Is it then so sad a thing to die?
Don't trust the horse, Trojans. Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks even bearing gifts. -Equo ne credite, Teucri. Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes
The flocks fear the wolf, the crops the storm, and the trees the wind.
Persistent work triumphs.
Harsh necessity, and the newness of my kingdom, force me to do such things and to guard my frontiers everywhere.
Look with favor upon a bold beginning.