There's many a thing which they - Whose coats are tattered never dare to say |
There's nothing costs a man less than his son |
They whose sole bliss is eating can give but that one brutish reason why they live |
This is his first punishment, that by the verdict of his own heart no guilty man is acquitted. |
Travelers with naught sing in the robber's face |
Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign, can match the fierce, the unutterable pain, he feels, who night and day, devoid of rest, carries his own accuser in his breast |
Two things only the people anxiously desire - bread and circuses |
Virtue is the one and only nobility. |
Virtue's admired - and shivers with the cold |
Warmed up cabbage wears out the poor master's life |
We deem those happy who from the experience of life have learned to bear its ills, without being overcome by them |
What man have you ever seen who as content with one crime only |
When a man's life is at stake, no delay is too long |
When talent fails, indignation writes the verse. |
Who is to guard the guards themselves? |