The act of evil / breeds others to follow, / young sins in its own likeness.

Let there be / wealth without tears; enough for / the wise man who will ask no further.

This is a sickness rooted and inherent / in the nature of a tyranny: / that he that holds it does not trust his friends.

Time in his aging overtakes all things alike.

Time brings all things to pass.

Who, except the gods, / can live time through forever without any pain?

For sufferers it is sweet to know before-hand clearly the pain that still remains for them.

The high strength of men / knows no content with limitation.

Every ruler is harsh whose rule is new.

Do you not know, Prometheus, that words are healers of the sick temper?