Let who will boast their courage in the field, I find but little safety from my shield, Nature’s, not honour’s law we must obey: This made me cast my useless shield away.

Old women should not seek to be perfumed.

And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life which valour could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again?

I have a high art: I hurt with cruelty those who would wound me.