Shame

HIde, for shame,
Romans, your grandsires' images,
That blush at their degenerate progeny.

Have you no modesty, no maiden shame?

Ye have borne the shame of the heathen.

Honor and shame from no condition rise.

And every woe a tear can claim
Except an erring sister's shame.

O C sar, what a wounding shame is this!

Guides who are the shame of religion.

Were there but one righteous in the world, he would . . . shame the world, and not the world him.

And with foul cowardice his carcass shame.

Ye have shamed the counsel of the poor.

I do shame
To think of what a noble strain you are.