To each man at his birth nature has given some fault.
Love presses my head with carefully placed feet, wretch that he is, until he has taught me to detest chaste girls, and to live with no counsel.
Something greater than the Iliad now springs to birth -Nescio quid maius nascitur Iliade
Great is the height I just scale, but the prospect of glory gives me strength.
Faith is not sure, if you cannot turn love to quarrel; may my enemies obtain a mild mistress.
Never change when love has found its home.