The Venal Herd. [lat., Venale Pecus.]

Let Me Moderate Our Sorrows. The Grief Of A Man Should Not Exceed Proper Bounds, But Be In Proportion To The Blow He Has Received. [lat., Ponamus Nimios Gemitus: Flagrantior Aequo Non Debet Dolor Esse Viri, Nec Vulnere Major.]

Revenge Is Sweeter Than Life Itself. So Think Fools.

Lost Money Is Bewailed With Deeper Sighs Than Friends, Or Kindred, And With Louder Cries.

For The Gods, Instead Of What Is Most Pleasing, Will Give What Is Most Proper. Man Is Dearer To Them Than He Is To Himself.

The Short Bloom Of Our Brief And Narrow Life Flies Fast Away. While We Are Calling For Flowers And Wine And Women, Old Age Is Upon Us. [lat., Festinat Enim Decurrere Velox Flosculus Angustae Miseraeque Brevissima Vitae Portico; Dum Bibimus Dum Sera Unguenta Puellas Poscimus Obrepit Non Intellecta Senectus.]