Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

Evil Deeds Do Not Prosper; The Slow Man Catches Up With The Swift.

O Friends, Be Men, And Let Your Hearts Be Strong And Let No Warrior In The Heat Of Fight, Do What May Bring Him Shame In Others' Eyes

Toil Is The Lot Of All, And Bitter Woe The Fate Of Many.

Thou Wilt Lament Hereafter, When The Evil Shall Be Done And Shall Admit No Cure.

Who Love Too Much, Hate In The Like Extreme.