Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with read more

Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine,
To mask their brows and hide their infamy;
But I alone, alone must sit and pine,
Seasoning the earth with show'rs of silver brine,
Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.

I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
And bear the read more

I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
And bear the marks upon a blushing face,
OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.

Blushing is the colour of virtue.

Blushing is the colour of virtue.

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To bear her secrets so bewrayed.

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To bear her secrets so bewrayed.

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what read more

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindess shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance.

Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and
vanity.
[Fr., Les hommes rougissent moins de read more

Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and
vanity.
[Fr., Les hommes rougissent moins de leur crimes que de leurs
faiblesses et de leur vanite.]

Such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.

Such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.

Innocence is not accustomed to blush.
[Fr., L'innocence a rougir n'est point accoutumee.]

Innocence is not accustomed to blush.
[Fr., L'innocence a rougir n'est point accoutumee.]

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.