I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there?

Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,No touch of bashfulness?

Like the violet, which alone Prospers in some happy shade, My Castara lives unknown To no looser eye betrayed.

Modesty is the lowest of the virtues, and is a confession of the deficiency it indicates. He who undervalues himself is justly overvalued by others.