Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes.

He was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned Sole monarch of the universal earth.

O shame, where is thy blush?

He was not born to shame.Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.

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

The expense of spirit in a waste of shameIs lust in action.