Vice, like virtue, Grows in small steps, and no true innocence Can ever fall at once to deepest guilt.

Ah, why can't I know if I love, or if I hate?

To save our imperiled honor everything must be sacrificed, even virtue.

What does it matter if, by chance, a little vile blood be spilled?

Sun, I come to see you for the last time.

My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.

The glory of my name increases my shame. Less known by mortals, I could better escape their eyes.