None shall think lightly of me, as if weak,
Of courage void, or with a soul too tame,
But form'd by Heaven in a far different mould.
The terror of my foes, and to my friends
Benignant : for most glorious are the lives
Of those who act with such determin'd zeal.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

Let me not be deem'd
A poor, low-thoughted, tame, and timid thing:
No; to my foes relentless is my soul,
But to my friends all gentleness; and such
Are held through life in honour's highest rank.
[tr. Potter (1814)]

Let none believe me weak and lethargic
Nor tame in spirit, but far other souled;
Dour to my foes, but to my friends most helpful:
For the lives of such do wear the nobler grace.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

Let no one deem me a poor weak woman who sits with folded hands, but of another mould, dangerous to foes and well-disposed to friends; for they win the fairest fame who live their life like me.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Let no one think me mean-spirited and weak, nor of a gentle temper, but of a contrary disposition to my foes relentless, and to my friends kind: for the lives of such sort are most glorious.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Let none account me impotent, nor weak,
Nor meek of spirit! — Nay, in other sort,
Grim to my foes, and kindly to my friends,
For of such is the life most glorious.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

Names have I
Among your folk? One light? One weak of hand?
An eastern dreamer? — Nay, but with the brand
Of strange suns burnt, my hate, by God above,
A perilous thing, and passing sweet my love!
For these it is that make life glorious.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

Let no man think of me as mean or weak
Or a quiet soul, -- nay very far from it! --
As dangerous a foe as loyal friend.
For such are they that live most honourable.
[tr. Lucas, ed. Higham (1938)]

Let no one think me a weak one, feeble-spirited,
A stay-at-home, but rather just the opposite,
One who can hurt my enemies and help my friends;
For the lives of such persons are most remembered.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

Let no one think of me as “poor” or “weak”
Or “retiring”, but quite the contrary, a millstone
Around my enemies’ necks, a boon to my friends.
The lives of people like that are most renowned.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

Let no one think me weak, contemptible, untroublesome. No, quite the opposite, hurtful to foes, to friends kindly. Such persons live a life of greatest glory.
[tr. Kovacs (Loeb) (1994)]

Let no one think me a weak and feeble woman, or one to let things pass, but rather one of the other sort, a generous friend but an enemy to be feared. It is people like that who achieve true fame in life.
[tr. Davie (1996)]

Let no one think that I am some weak and sickly woman, or one of those quiet spirits!
Quite the opposite! I am most friendly to my friends and most fearsome to my enemies. It’s only people like me who live a life of glory.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

Let no one think that I am mean or weak
nor peaceful, but of the other sort,
a weight upon my enemies but to my friends most kind.
It is to such people the heroic way of life belongs.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

Let no one think that I’m a trivial woman,
a feeble one who sits there passively.
No, I’m a different sort — dangerous
to enemies, but well disposed to friends.
Lives like mine achieve the greatest glory.
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 957ff]

Let no one think me weak, worthless, or docile. Let me be thought the opposite of these: harsh with my ehemies, gentle with my friends. Such people live lives of great renown.
[tr. Kovacs / Kitzinger (2016)]

Let no one think me weak, contemptible,
untroublesome; no, quite the opposite,
hurtful to foes, kindly to friends;
such persons live a life of greatest glory.
[tr. Kovacs; ed. Yeroulanos (2016)]

Let no one think me insignificant or weak,
or gentle -- I am quite the opposite;
a heavy burden on my enemies
and a great help to my friends;
people like this live the most glorious life.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

Let no one consider me trifling and weak, as one who lives in serenity [hēsukhiā], but of another mold: dangerous to enemies [ekhthroi], and well-disposed to philoi. They win the fairest kleos who live their life like me.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

Let no one think of me as weak, contemptible, untroublesome. No, quite the opposite: hurtful to foes, to friends kindly. Such people live a life of greatest glory.
[tr. Kovacs / Zhang / Rogak]

There is another kinde of glorie, which is an over-good opinion we conceive of our worth. It is an inconsiderate affection, wherewith wee cherish our selves, which presents-us unto our selves other then wee are. As an amorous passion addeth beauties, and lendeth graces to the subject it embraceth, and maketh such as are therewith possessed, with a troubled conceite, and distracted Judgement, to deeme what they love, and finde what they affect, to bee other, and seeme more perfect, then in trueth it is. [tr. Florio (1603)]

There is another sort of glory, which is the having too good an opinion of our own merit. It is an inconsiderate affection, with which we flatter ourselves, and that represents us to ourselves other than what we truly are: like the passion of love, that lends beauties and graces to the object of it; and makes those who are caught with it, by a depraved and corrupt judgment, consider the thing they love other and more perfect than it is.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

There is another sort of glory, which is the having too good an opinion of our own worth. ’Tis an inconsiderate affection with which we flatter ourselves, and that represents us to ourselves other than we truly are: like the passion of love, that lends beauties and graces to the object, and makes those who are caught by it, with a depraved and corrupt judgment, consider the thing which they love other and more perfect than it is.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

There is another sort of glory, which is a too high opinion that we conceive of our worth. It is an ill-advised affection with which we flatter ourselves, which represents us to ourselves other than we are; as amourous passion lends beauties and charms to that which it embraces, and causes those who are possessed by it, their judgement being disturbed and diverted, to deem what they love different from what it is, and more perfect.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

There is another sort of glory, which is to have too good an opinion of our own worth. It is an unthinking affection with which we flatter ourselves, that represents us to ourselves other than we truly are: like the passion of love, that lends beauties and charms to the object it embraces, and makes those who are possessed by it, with a troubled and corrupt judgment, consider the thing they love other and more perfect than it is.
[tr. Zeitlin (1934)]

There is another kind of vainglory, which is an over-good opinion we form of our own worth. It is an unreasoning affection, by which we cherish ourselves, which represents us to ourselves as other than we are; as the passion of love lends beauties and graces to the object it embraces, and makes its victims, with muddled and unsettled judgment, think that what they love is other and more perfect than it is.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

There is another kind of glory, which is to have too good an opinion of our own worth. It is an unthinking affection with which we flatter ourselves, and which presents us to ourselves as other than we are; just as the passion of love lends beauties and charms to the object it embraces in such a way that the love's judgement is troubled and distracted, and he finds the lady he loves other and more perfect than she is.
[tr. Cohen (1958)]

There is another kind of "glory": the over-high opinion we conceive of our own worth. It is an imprudent affection by which we hold our own self dear, presenting ourself to ourself other than we are, just as passionate love lends grace and beauty to the person it embraces and leads to those who are enraptured by it being disturbed and confused in their judgement, so finding their Beloved other than she is, and more perfect.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

Thou thyself doest transgress in many things, and art even such another as they are. And though perchance thou doest forbear the very act of some sins, yet hast thou in thyself an habitual disposition to them, but that either through fear, or vainglory, or some such other ambitious foolish respect, thou art restrained.
[tr. Casaubon (1634), 11.16]

Don't forget you are like the rest of the World, and Faulty your self in a great many Instances; That tho' you may forbear running Riot in some Cases, 'tis not for want of an Inclination: And that nothing but Cowardize, Vanity, or some such scandalous Principle, hinders you from breaking out.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

You have many faults of your own, and are much such another. And, that, though you abstain from some such crimes, yet you have a like strong inclination; however from fear, or concern about your character, you abstain from them.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

Reflect that you yourself are guilty of many faults, and are in many respects like those that offend you. And though you abstain from some vicious acts, you have an habitual inclination to commit them, but are restrained by fear, a regard to character, or some other less virtuous motive, from further indulgence in them.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

Consider that thou also doest many things wrong, and that thou art a man like others; and even if thou dost abstain from certain faults, still thou hast the disposition to commit them, though either through cowardice, or concern about reputation, or some such mean motive, thou dost abstain from such faults.
[tr. Long (1862)]

You are like others, and often do wrong yourself. Even if you abstain from some forms of wrong, all the same you have the bent for wrongdoing, though cowardice or desire for popularity, or some other low motive keeps you from wrong of that kind.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

You yourself do often sin, and are no better than another. And, if you abstain from certain sins, still you have the disposition to commit them, even if through cowardice, fear for your character, or other meanness, you hold back.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

Thou too doest many a wrong thing thyself and art much as others are, and if thou dost refrain from certain wrong-doings, yet hast thou a disposition inclinable thereto even supposing that through cowardice or a regard for thy good name or some such base consideration thou dost not actually commit them.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

You yourself also often do wrong and are another such as they are, and that, even if you do abstain from some kinds of wrong action, at all events you have at least a proclivity to them, though cowardice or tenderness for your good name or some similar bad motive keeps you from offences like theirs.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

You yourself offend in various ways, and are no different from them. You may indeed avoid certain faults, yet the inclination is there nevertheless, even if cowardice or a regard for your reputation or some such ignoble motive has restrained you from imitating their misdeeds.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]

You for your own part also commit many wrongs, and are just the same as they are; and that even if you do refrain from certain kinds of wrongdoing, you have at least the inclination to commit such wrongs, even if cowardice, or concern for your reputation, or some other vice of that kind, saves you from actually committing them.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

You've made enough mistakes yourself. You're just like them. Even if there are some you've avoided, you have the potential. Even if cowardice has kept you from them. Or fear of what people would say. Or some equally bad reason.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

You yourself have many faults and are no different from them. If you do refrain from some wrongs you still have the proclivity to them, even if your restraint from wrongs like theirs is due to the fear or pursuit of public opinion, or some other such poor motive.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

Remember that you yourself are often mistaken, and so you are just like them; also that, even if you manage to refrain from doing some wrongs, you nevertheless have it in you to do such things, were it not for the fact that fear, thirst for reputation, or some other unworthy motive keeps you from doing what they do.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

Consider that you for your own part also commit many wrongs, and are just the same as they are; and that even if you do refrain from certain kinds of wrongdoing, you have at least the inclination to commit such wrongs, even if cowardice, or concern for your reputation, or some other vice of that kind, saves you from actually committing them.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]