No One Rejoices More In

So Much Greater Is Our Thirst For Glory Than For Virtue.

The Pupil Will Eclipse His Tutor, I Warrant.

The People That Once Bestowed Commands, Consulships, Legions, And All Else, Now Concerns Itself No More, And Longs Eagerly For Just Two Things: Bread And Circuses!

Money Lost Is Bewailed With Unfeigned Tears. [lat., Ploratur Lacrimis Amissa Pecunia Veris.]

Trust Me No Tortures Which The Poets Feign Can Match The Fierce Unutterable Pain He Feels, Who Night And Day Devoid Of Rest Carries His Own Accuser In His Breast.