Were you with these, my prince, you 'd soon forget The pale, unripened beauties of the north.

More from Cato

• A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
• Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
• Blesses his stars and thinks it luxury.
• Curse all his virtues! they 've undone his country.
• Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
• From hence, let fierce contending nations know What dire effects from civil discord flow.