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.
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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.
His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
That two red fires in both faces blazed.
She thought he read more
His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
That two red fires in both faces blazed.
She thought he blushed as knowing Tarquin's lust,
And, blushing with him, wistly on him gazed;
Her earnest eye did make him more amazed.
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.
The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.
The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.
I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
read more
I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth.
Blushed like the waves of hell.
Blushed like the waves of hell.
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.
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.
