It is a kind of sickness with me to compose books and to be ashamed of them afterwards.
[ed. Guterman (1963)]

I have the disease of writing books and being ashamed of them when I have written them.
[tr. Clark (2012)]

The wicked man flees when no one is after him ....
[JB (1966)]

The wicked flees when no one is pursuing ....
[NJB (1985)]

The wicked run when no one is chasing them ....
[GNT (1992 ed.)]

The wicked run away even though no one pursues them ....
[CEB (2011)]

The wicked flee when no one pursues ....
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

A wicked person flees though no one gives chase ....
[RJPS (2023 ed.)]

Blessed are the forgetful: for they get over their stupidities.
[tr. Kaufmann (1966)]

Blessed are the forgetful: for they shall "have done" with their stupidities too.
[tr. Hollingdale (1973, 1990)]

Blessed are the forgetful, for they are "done" with their stupidities as well.
[tr. Johnston]

If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat;
and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink:
for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head,
and the Lord shall reward thee.
[KJV (1611)]

If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat; if thirsty, something to drink.
By this you heap red-hot coals on his head, and Yahweh will reward you.
[JB (1966)]

If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat; if thirsty, something to drink.
By this you will be heaping red-hot coals on his head, and Yahweh will reward you.
[NJB (1985)]

If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them a drink. 22 You will make them burn with shame, and the Lord will reward you.
[GNT (1992 ed.)]

If your enemies are hungry, give them bread to eat,
and if they are thirsty, give them water to drink,
for you will heap coals of fire on their heads,
and the Lord will reward you.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat;
If he is thirsty, give him water to drink.
You will be heaping live coals on his head,
And God will reward you.
[RJPS (2023 ed.)]

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.)]

Few men durst publish the secret petitions they make to God.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

There are few men who dared publish to the world the prayers they make to Almighty God.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

There are few men who would dare to exhibit openly the secret petitions which they make to God.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

There are few men who would dare place in evidence the secret requests they make of God.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

Not many men would care to submit to view the secret prayers they make to God.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

First, though my life is pure from guilt, my name
Is infamous; this ill, this charge of crimes
From which the soul is free, is more severe
Than what from truth arises.
[tr. Potter (1783), l. 304ff]

First of all exposed
To slanderous tongues, although I ne'er have erred.
It were a lesser evil e'en to sin
Than be suspected falsely.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

First indeed, not being unjust, I am in ill repute; and this is a greater evil than the truth, when any one is charged with evils he does not possess.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]

First, although I never acted wrongly, my good name is gone. And this trouble is stronger than the reality, if someone incurs blame for wrongs that are not his own.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

First, an ill name, though I am clean of sin;
And worse is this than suffering for just cause,
To bear the burden of sins that are not ours.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1912)]

First, I have lost my name, thought I have done no wrong;
and it is worse than suffering what one deserves
if one must suffer for the things one never did.
[tr. Warner (1951)]

In the first place, though I am innocent, my name is a byword of reproach; and if there is any worse fate than suffering for real crimes, it is suffering for crimes that were never committed.
[tr. Vellacott (1954)]

I have done nothing wrong and yet my reputation
is bad, and worse than a true evil is it to bear
the burden of faults that are not truly yours.
[tr. Lattimore (1956)]

First of all, I am blameless,
and yet I am blamed.
It is easier to bear what belongs to you
than what does not.
[tr. Meagher (1986)]

Firstly, I have done nothing wrong and yet my name is reviled. When someone is punished though innocent of crime, it is a worse affliction than getting his just deserts.
[tr. Davie (2002)]

First, although I never sinned, my good name is gone. And this is a grief beyond the reality, if a man incurs blame for sins that are not his.
[tr. Athenian Society (2006)]

First, I am not wicked, but people think I am.
There's nothing worse than being innocent,
But treated as guilty.
[tr. A. Wilson (2007)]

To begin with, my good reputation has been destroyed though I have done nothing wrong, and there’s nothing worse than to be burdened by the shame which one has not earned.
[tr. Theodoridis (2011)]

First, though I’ve done nothing wrong, my name is loathed.
It’s so much worse to be scorned for things you haven’t done
than to suffer honest charges!
[Ambrose et al. (2018)]

First, although I never acted wrongly, my good name is gone. And this trouble [kakon] is stronger than the truth [alētheia], if someone incurs blame for evils [kaka] that are not his own. [tr. Coleridge / Helen Heroization Team]

Whatever Reason we may find for the Passion that subdues us, we shall always be a little ashm'd to own it.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

Whatever reason we may find for the passion that subdues us, we always feel some shame in owning it.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

Whatever reasons we may find to justify the love that conquers us, there is always a certain shame attached to the avowal of it.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

Whatever gratification we may find for the passion that subdues us, we shall always be rather ashamed to own it.
[tr. Mathew (1890). 4.4]

Whatever reasons we may find for the love which conquers us, there is always a little shame in the avowal of it.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

Whatever cause we find to justify
The love that masters us, we still must feel
Some little shame in owning it.
[tr. Page (1909)]

Even though overmastered by our feelings,
We always find it shameful to admit them.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

However strong and justified our flame,
We never can admit it without shame.
[tr. Frame (1967)]

No matter how much love persuades us,
we always feel a tiny bit of shame.
[tr. Steiner (2008)]

Thou must use thyself to think only of such things, of which if a man upon a sudden should ask thee, what it is that thou art now thinking, thou mayest answer This, and That, freely and boldly, that so by thy thoughts it may presently appear that in all thee is sincere, and peaceable; as becometh one that is made for society, and regards not pleasures, nor gives way to any voluptuous imaginations at all: free from all contentiousness, envy, and suspicion, and from whatsoever else thou wouldst blush to confess thy thoughts were set upon.
[tr. Casaubon (1634)]

Let it be your way to think upon nothing, but what you could freely Discover, if the Question was put to you : So that if your Soul was thus laid open, there would nothing appear, but what was Sincere, Good-natur'd, and publick Spirited; not so much as one Libertine, or Luxurious Fancy, nothing of Litigiousness, Envy, or unreasonable Suspicion, or any thing else, which would not bear the Light, without Blushing.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

We ought, therefore, to [...] enure ourselves to think on such things, as, if we were of a sudden examined, what are we now musing upon, we could freely answer, such or such matters: so that all within might appear simple and goodnatured, such as becomes a social being, who despises pleasure, and all sensual enjoyment, and is free from emulation, envy, suspicion, or any other passion that we would blush to own we were now indulging in our minds.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

Indeed you should regulate your thoughts in such a manner, that if any one should ask you, on a sudden, what is the subject of them, you may answer him without embarrassment; so that they may evidently appear to be all simplicity and benevolence, and such as become a being born for society; free from every idea of sensuality or lasciviousness; from rancour, envy, or suspicion; or from any other sentiment, which, if you were to confess it, would occasion a blush.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

A man should use himself to think of those things only about which if one should suddenly ask, What hast thou now in thy thoughts? with perfect openness thou mightest immediately answer, This or That; so that from thy words it should be plain that everything in thee is simple and benevolent, and such as befits a social animal, and one that cares not for thoughts about pleasure or sensual enjoyments at all, nor has any rivalry or envy and suspicion, or anything else for which thou wouldst blush if thou shouldst say that thou hadst it in thy mind.
[tr. Long (1862)]

[A man] ought, therefore, not to work his mind to no purpose, nor throw a superfluous link into the chain of thought; and more especially, to avoid curiosity and malice in his inquiry. Accustom yourself, therefore, tot hink up on nothing but what you could freely reveal, if the question were put to you; so that if your soul were thus laid open, there would nothing appear but what was sincere, good-natured, and public-spirited -- not so much as one voluptuous or luxurious fancy, nothing of hatred, envy, or unreasonable suspicion, nor aught else which you could not bring to the light without blushing.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

Limit yourself habitually to such regards, that if suddenly asked 'What is in your thoughts now?,' you could tell at once the candid and unhesitating truth -- a direct plain proof, that all your thoughts were simple and in charity, such as befit a social being, who eschews voluptuous or even self-indulgent fancies, or jealousy of any kind, or malice and suspicion, or any other mood which you would blush to own.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

Accustom yourself so, and only so, to think, that, if any one were suddenly to ask you, “Of what are you thinking-now?” you could answer frankly and at once, “Of so and so.” Then it will plainly appear that you are all simplicity and kindliness, as befits a social being who takes little thought for enjoyment or any phantom pleasure; who spurns contentiousness, envy, or suspicion; or any passion the harbouring of which one would blush to own.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

A man should accustom himself to think only of those things about which, if one were to ask on a sudden, What now in thy thoughts? thou couldst quite frankly answer at once, This or that; so that thine answer should immediately make manifest that all that is in thee is simple and kindly and worthy of a living being that is social and has no thought for pleasures or for the entire range of sensual images, or for any rivalry, envy, suspicion, or anything else, whereat thou wouldst blush to admit that thou hadst it in thy mind.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

You must habituate yourself only to thoughts about which if some one were suddenly to ask: 'What is in your mind now?', you would at once reply, quite frankly, this or that; and so from the answer it would immediately be plain that all was simplicity and kindness, the thoughts of a social being, who disregards pleasurable, or to speak more generally luxurious imaginings or rivalry of any kind, or envy and suspicion or anything else about which you would blush to put into words that you had it in your head.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

A man should habituate himself to such a way of thinking that if suddenly asked, "What is in your mind at this minute?" he could respond frankly and without hesitation; thus proving that all his thoughts were simple and kindly, as becomes a social being with no taste for the pleasures of sensual imaginings, jealousies, envies, suspicions, or any other sentiments that he would blush to acknowledge in himself.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]

You must train yourself only to think such thoughts that if somebody were suddenly to ask you, "What are you thinking of?" you could reply in all honesty and without hesitation of this or that, and so make it clear at once from your reply that all within you is simple and kindly, and worthy of a social being who has no thought for pleasure, or luxury in general, or contentiousness of any kind, or envy, or suspicion, or anything else that you would blush to admit if you had it in your mind.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

Train yourself to think only those thoughts such that in answer to the sudden question ‘What is in your mind now?’ you could say with immediate frankness whatever it is, this or that: and so your answer can give direct evidence that all your thoughts are straightforward and kindly, the thoughts of a social being who has no regard for the fancies of pleasure or wider indulgence, for rivalry, malice, suspicion, or anything else that one would blush to admit was in one’s mind.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

You should accustom yourself to think only of those things which, if someone were suddenly to ask "What are you thinking?" you could openly answer this or that, so as to reveal straightaway that everything within yourself is straightforward and well disposed, appropriate to a communal being, and without care for base pleasures or even a single one of the delights we take in our experiences, or for any rivalry, slander, suspicion, or anything else which you would blush to answer that you had in your mind.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

You must train yourself only to think such thoughts that if somebody were suddenly to ask you, ‘What are you thinking of?’ you could reply in all honesty and without hesitation, of this thing or that, and so make it clear at once from your reply that all within you is simple and benevolent, and worthy of a social being who has no thought for pleasure, or luxury in general, or contentiousness of any kind, or envy, or suspicion, or anything else that you would blush to admit if you had it in your mind.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]

You must train yourself only to think the kind of thoughts about which, if someone suddenly asked you, "what are you thinking now?" you would at once answer frankly, "this" or "that." So, from your reply it would immediately be clear that all your thoughts are straightforward and kind and express the character of a social being who has no concern with images of pleasure, or self-indulgence in general, or any kind of rivalry, malice, or suspicion, or anything else you would blush to admit you were thinking about.
[tr. Gill (2013)]

One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. In the case of the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God upheaves the soul as well as the ocean.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

It is no more possible to prevent thought from reverting to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. With the sailor this is called the tide; with the culprit it is called remorse; God heaves the soul like the ocean.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore: the sailor calls it the tide; the guilty man calls it remorse; God upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

We can no more prevent a thought returning to the mind than we can prevent the sea from rising on the foreshore. To the sailor it is the tide, to the uneasy conscience it is remorse. God moves the soul as He moves the oceans.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

The mind is no more to be prevented from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. For the sailor this is called the tide. For the guilty man, it is called remorse. God stirs the soul as he causes the ocean to swell.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

I Determine freely, to open my minde unto you by letters, which doe not blush; seeing in presence I never durst doe it, through a certaine modesty, I cannot say, but rather a rudenesse.
[tr. Webbe (1620)]

I have frequently had it in my intentions to talk with you upon the subject of this letter; but a certain aukward modesty, has always restrained me from proposing in person, what I can with less scruple request at this distance: for a letter, you know, spares the confusion of a blush.
[tr. Melmoth (1753), 1.20]

A certain sense of shame has often halted me when I have been minded to take up with you face to face the topic which I now will set forth more boldly in your absence; for a letter does not blush.
[tr. McKinlay (1926)]

Often, when I have attempted to discuss this topic with you face to face, I have been deterred by a sort of almost boorish bashfulness; but now that I am away from you I shall bring it all out with greater boldness; for a letter does not blush.
[tr. Williams (Loeb) (1928)]

Although I have more than once attempted to take up my present topic with you face to face, a sort of shyness, almost awkwardness, has held me back. Away from your presence, I shall set it out with less trepidation. A letter has no blushes.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1978), # 22]

I have often tried to speak of these matters with you in person, but an almost clownish sense of shyness has scared me off; now, being away from you, I shall declare them more boldly, since a letter does not blush.
[tr. @aleator (2013)]

She asked where he lived.
“Second to the right,” said Peter, “and then straight on till morning.”
“What a funny address!”
Peter had a sinking feeling. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address.
“No, it isn’t,” he said.

While laziness and timidity alone have the merit of keeping us in our duty, our virtue often has all the honour.
 
[Pendant que la paresse et la timidité ont seules le mérite de nous tenir dans notre devoir, notre vertu en a souvent tout l’honneur.]

Shame, laziness and timidity alone retain the merit of holding us back from our duty, while our virtue has all the honor.
 
[La honte, la paresse et la timidité conservent toutes seules le mérite de nous retenir dans notre devoir, pendant que notre vertu en a tout l’honneur.]

It must be admitted that virtue, by which we boast of doing everything good that we do, would not always have the strength to hold us back from the rules of our duty, if laziness, timidity, or shame did not make us see the disadvantages of departing from them.
 
[Il faut avouer que la vertu, par qui nous nous vantons de faire tout ce que nous faisons de bien, n’aurait pas toujours la force de nous retenir dans les règles de notre devoir, si la paresse, la timidité, ou la honte ne nous faisoient voir les inconvénients qu’il y a d’en sortir.]

We are many times kept within the limits of our duty by Shame, Sloth, and Timorousness, while in the mean time our Virtue hath all the credit of it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶5]

Many People are kept within their Duty, because they have not the Courage, or will not be at the pains of being wicked; and in such cases oftentimes our Vertue runs away with all the Praise.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶170]

Idleness, timidity, and shame, often keep us within the bounds of duty; whilst virtue seems to run away with the honour.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶233; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶163]

Idleness, timidity, or shame, often keeps us within the bounds of duty; whilst virtue seems to run away with the honour of it.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶202]

Indolence and timidity often keep us to our duty, while our virtue carries off all the credit of doing so.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶172]

Idleness and fear keeps us in the path of duty, but our virtue often gets the praise.
[tr. Bund / Friswell (1871), ¶169]

Although it is frequently laziness and timidity that keep us within the path of duty, it is virtue that reaps the credit.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶169]

Though indolence and timidity keep us to the path of duty, virtue often gets all the credit.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶169]

When laziness or cowardice keeps us to the path of duty, the credit is often given entirely to our honour.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶169]

When laziness and timidity yokes us to our duties, we often give virtue the credit for it.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶169]

While it is idleness and timidity that retain us in our duty, our virtue takes all the credit.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶169]

It is much less for a Man's Honour to distrust his Friends, than to be deceived by them.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶85]

It is more dishonourable to distrust a friend, than to be deceived by him.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶171; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶81; ed. Carvill (1835), ¶151]

It is more disgraceful to distrust; one's friends than to be deceived by them.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶87]

It is more disgraceful to distrust than to be deceived by our friends.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶84]

It is more disgraceful to mistrust one's friends than to be the victim of their treachery.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶84]

It is more shameful to distrust one's friends than to be deceived by them.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶84; tr. Tancock (1959), ¶84]

It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶84; tr. Whichello (2016), ¶84]

But what is base, if it appear not base
To those who practice what their soul approves?
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

What is shameful, if it does not seem to be so to those who do it?
[Source]

What's wrong if they who do it think not so?
[Source (1902)]

Why shameful, if it does not seem so to those who practice it?
[Source (2018)]

But to thee
This I maintain, that if the Gods commit
Aught that is base, they are no longer Gods.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

If gods do anything shameful, they are not gods.
[tr. Collard, Hargreaves, Cropp (1995)]

If gods do what is shameful, they are not gods.
[tr. Stevens (2012), frag. 286b]

If the gods do anything base, they are not gods.
[tr. Dixon (2014)]

What's the reason that we laugh so freely, and are asham'd to weep at the Theatre? Is Nature less subjects to be soften'd by pity, than to burst forth at what is Comical? [...] We must suppose 'tis the natural effect of a good Tragedy, to make us Weep freely in sight of the whole Audience, without any other trouble than drying our Eyes, and wiping our Faces. It being no more ridiculous to be seen Weeping, than to be heard to Laugh by the whole Theatre: On the contrary, we then conclude there was something acted very pleasantly, and to the life; and the restraint a man puts on him∣self to hide his tears, by an affected Grimace, plainly demonstrates that he ought not to resist the main design of a Tragedy, but give way to his Passions, and discover em as openly, and with as much confidence, as at a Comedy.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

What is the reason we laugh so freely, but are asham'd to weep at the Theatre? Is Nature less subject to be soften'd by Pity, than to burst out into Laughter at what is Comical? [...] As therefore 'tis thought no odd thing to hear the whole Amphitheatre ring with an Universal Laughter, at some passage of a Comedy; butr on the contrary, implies something was pleasantly said, and naturally perform';d; so the extreme violence which every one offers to himself in constraining his Tears, and disguising ;em with affected Grimaces, clealry prove that the Natural Effect of good Tragedy is to make us weep with all freedom, and in concert, in another's sight, and wihtout any other disturbance than wiping our Eyes.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

Why is it that we laugh so freely at the theatre and yet are ashamed to weep there? Is it less natural to be moved by what is pitiful than to be amused by what is ridiculous? [...] Since then it is no unusual thing to hear a whole theatre break into unanimous laughter at some passage in a comedy, since this implies, on the contrary, that it is amusing and extremely life-like, so the extreme violence we do to our feelings by restraining our tears, and the false laughter with which we try to conceal them, clearly proves that the natural effect of great tragedy should be to make us all weep quite openly, with one accord, in one another’s presence, with no further concern than to wipe our eyes.
[tr. Stewart (1970), "Of Books"]

If men could blush at their own actions, how many sins, publick and private, would they save by it?
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

If Men knew how to blush at their own Actions, how many Crimes, publick and private, would they save by it!
[Curll ed. (1713)]

If Men could blush for themselves, how many Sins, public and private, would they save by it!
[Browne ed. (1752)]

If a man knew how to blush at his own actions, what crimes, not only secret but public and overt, would he not spare himself!
[tr. Stewart (1970)]

When a country is well-governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. When a country is ill-governed, riches and honour are things to be ashamed of.
[tr. Legge (1861)]

Under a good government it will be a disgrace to him if he remain in poverty and low estate; under a bad one it would be equally disgraceful to him to hold riches and honours.
[tr. Jennings (1895)]

When there is justice and order in the government of his own country, he should be ashamed to be poor and without honour; but when there is no justice in the government of his own country he should be ashamed to be rich and honoured.
[tr. Ku Hung-Ming (1898)]

When law and order prevail in his State, he is ashamed to be needy and of no account. When law and order fail, he is ashamed to be in affluence and honour.
[tr. Soothill (1910)]

When a state is functioning, poverty and meanness are shameful; when a state is in chaos (ill governed) riches and honours are shameful. [Let us say: under a corrupt government.]
[tr. Pound (1933)]

When the Way prevails in your own land, count it a disgrace to be needy and obscure; when the Way does not prevail in your land, then count it a disgrace to be rich and honoured.
[tr. Waley (1938)]

If a state is following The Right Way, it is a disgrace to be in poverty and a low estate therein; if not, it is a disgrace to be rich and honored therein.
[tr. Ware (1950)]

It is a shameful matter to be poor and humble when the Way prevails in the state. Equally, it is a shameful matter to be rich and noble when the Way falls into disuse in the state.
[tr. Lau (1979)]

When the Way prevails in your own state, to be made poor and obscure by it is a disgrace; but when teh Way does not prevail in your own state, to be made rich and honourable by it is a disgrace.
[tr. Dawson (1993)]

In a country where the Way prevails, it is shameful to remain poor and obscure; in a country which has lost the Way, it is shameful to become rich and honored.
[tr. Leys (1997)]

When the state possesses the Way and you are poor and lowly, it is a shame; when the state loses the Way and you are rich and noble, it is also a shame.
[tr. Huang (1997)]

If the country is on the right way, it is the shame to be poor and low; If the country is not on the right way, it is the shame to be rich and honor.
[tr. Cai/Yu (1998), #201]

It is a disgrace to remain poor and without rank when the way prevails in the state; it is a disgrace to be wealthy and of noble rank when it does not.
[tr. Ames/Rosemont (1998)]

When the state has the Way, to be poor and humble in it is shameful; when the state has not the Way, to be wealthy and honored in it is shameful.
[tr. Brooks/Brooks (1998)]

When the Way rules in your country, there's shame in poverty and obscurity; when the Way's lost in your country, there's shame in wealth and renown.
[tr. Hinton (1998)]

In a state that has the Way, to be poor and of low status is a cause for shame; in a state that is without the Way, to be wealthy and honored is equally a cause for shame.
[tr. Slingerland (2003)]

When the state follows the Way, being poor and lowly is a cause for shame. When the state is without the Way, being rich and eminent is a cause for shame.
[tr. Watson (2007)]

When the moral way prevails in a state, being poor and lowly is a cause for shame. When the moral way does not prevail in the world, having wealth and position is a cause for shame.
[tr. Chin (2014)]

For I still thought "that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us"; and it delighted my pride, to be free from blame; and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself a sinner.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]

For I still thought, "that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us;" and it delighted my pride to be free from blame, and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself a sinner.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]

For it still seemed to me “that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us.” And it gratified my pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed any fault, not to acknowledge that I had done any, -- "that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee;" but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I wot not what) which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me against myself; and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did not deem myself a sinner.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]

For I still believed “that sin was not a voluntary act , but that some other nature, I knew not what, sinned in us;” and it flattered my pride to regard myself as free from fault; and when I had done anything wrong, not to admit that I had done it, “that Thou mightest heal my soul, because it had sinned against Thee;” but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse that which was in me, I knew not what, save that it was not myself. But indeed it was all myself, and my iniquity it was which had divided me against myself; and the sin which led me to deny, that I myself was a sinner, was on that account all the more incurable.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]

For as yet I held that it is not we who sin, but that some alien nature sins in us; and my pride delighted in the thought that I was not to blame, and that, when I had done evil I need not confess that I had done it, to the end that Thou mightest heal my soul, because I had sinned against Thee. But I loved to excuse my soul, and lay the guilt on something else, which was with me and was not myself. But in truth I was one, and nothing but my iniquity had divided me against myself; and the thought that I was not a sinner was the deadlier part of my sin.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]

For I still held the view that it was not we that sinned, but some other nature sinning in us; and it pleased my pride to be beyond fault, and when I did any evil not to confess that I had done it, that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You: I very much preferred to excuse myself and accuse some other thing that was in me but was not I. But in truth I was wholly I, it was my impiety that had divided me against myself. My sin was all the more incurable because I thought I was not a sinner.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]

For it still seemed to me “that it is not we who sin, but some other nature sinned in us.” And it gratified my pride to be beyond blame, and when I did anything wrong not to have to confess that I had done wrong -- “that thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against thee” -- and I loved to excuse my soul and to accuse something else inside me (I knew not what) but which was not I. But, assuredly, it was I, and it was my impiety that had divided me against myself. That sin then was all the more incurable because I did not deem myself a sinner.
[tr. Outler (1955)]

I still thought that it was not ourselves who sin, but that some sort of different nature within us commits the sin. It gave joy to my pride to be above all guilt, and when I did an evil deed, not to confess that I myself had done it, so that you might heal my soul, since it had sinned against you. I loved to excuse myself, and to accuse I know not what other being that was present with me but yet was not I. But in truth I was the one whole being, and my own impiety had divided me against myself. That sin was the more incurable whereby I judged myself to be no sinner.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]

For I was still of the opinion that it is not we ourselves who sin, but some other nature which is in us; it gratified my pride to think that I was blameless and, if I did something wrong, not to confess that I had done it, so that you might heal my soul, because my soul had sinned against you. Instead I liked to excuse myself and accuse something else -- something that was in me, but was not really I. But in fact I was wholly I and it was my impiety which had divided one me from another me. My sin was all the more incurable because I imagined that I was not a sinner.
[tr. Warner (1963)]

I still believed that it is not we who sin, but some undefined "nature" within us, and to be thus faultless was joy to my pride, as it was not to confess some evil I had done that you might heal my soul when I had sinned in your sight. I loved to excuse myself and blame something else which was with me, but not I. But truly it was wholly I, and my wickedness had divided me against myself. That sin was more incurable in which I did not consider myself a sinner.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]

The vices in which we abound, we sedulously conceal from others, and flatter ourselves with the pretence that they are diminutive and trivial, and even sometimes embrace them as virtues.
[Source (1813)]

The very vices that infest us we take pains to hide from others, while we flatter ourselves with the pretense that they are slight and insignificant, and even sometimes embrace them as virtues.
[Source (1984)]

The vices with which we abound we both carefully conceal from others, and flatteringly represent to ourselves as minute and trivial, no, sometimes hug them as virtues.
[tr. Beveridge (2008)]

The different forms of violence, whether toward individuals or entire populations, are motivated (caused) by the feeling of shame. The purpose of violence is to diminish the intensity of shame and replace it as far as possible with its opposite, pride, thus preventing the individual from being overwhelmed by the feeling of shame. Violence toward others, such as homicide, is an attempt to replace shame with pride.

And shame, a quality
Of so much weight, that both it helps and hurts excessively
Men in their manners, is not known, nor hath the pow’r to be,
In this man’s being.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 47ff]

Shame, man’s blessing or his curse.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 58]

Cowper footnotes: "His blessing, if he is properly influenced by it; his curse in its consequences if he is deaf to its dictates."

Nor in him is there sense of shame, which greatly hurts and profits men.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]

Conscience, arbiter of good and ill.
[tr. Derby (1864)]

Neither hath he shame, that doth both harm and profit men greatly.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]

That conscience which at once so greatly banes yet greatly boons him that will heed it.
[tr. Butler (1898)]

Neither is shame in his heart, the which harmeth men greatly and profiteth them withal.
[tr. Murray (1924)]

There is not in him any shame; which does much harm to men but profits them also.
[tr. Lattimore (1951)]

He has no shame -- that gift that hinders mortals but helps them, too.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]

No shame in the man,
shame that does great harm or drives men on to good.
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 52ff]

Shame and respect no
longer he has, which harm men greatly but profit them also.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]

Good friends, bring but yourselves to feel the noble stings of shame
For what ye suffer, and be men. Respect each other’s fame;
For which who strives in shame’s fit fear, and puts on ne’er so far,
Comes oft’ner off. Then stick engag’d; these fugitives of war
Save neither life, nor get renown, nor bear more mind than sheep.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 508ff]

O Greeks! respect your fame,
Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame:
Let mutual reverence mutual warmth inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire.
On valour's side the odds of combat lie,
The brave live glorious, or lamented die;
The wretch that trembles in the field of fame,
Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]

O my friends, be men, and set honour in your hearts, and have reverence for each other during the vehement conflicts. For more of those men who reverence each other are saved than slain; but of the fugitives, neither glory arises, nor any defence.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]

Brave comrades, quit ye now like men;
Bear a stout heart; and in the stubborn fight
Let each to other mutual succour give;
By mutual succour more are sav’d than fall;
In timid flight nor fame nor safety lies.
[tr. Derby (1864)]

My friends, be men, and fear dishonour; quit yourselves in battle so as to win respect from one another. Men who respect each other's good opinion are less likely to be killed than those who do not, but in flight there is neither gain nor glory.
[tr. Butler (1898)]

My friends, be men, and take ye shame in your hearts, and have shame each of the other in the fierce conflict. Of men that have shame more are saved than are slain; but from them that flee springeth neither glory nor any avail.
[tr. Murray (1924)]

Friends, respect yourselves as men,
respect each other in the moil of battle!
Men with a sense of shame survive
more often than they perish. Those who run
have neither fighting power nor any honor.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]

Be men, my friends! Discipline fill your hearts!
Dread what comrades say of you here in bloody combat!
When men dread that, more men come through alive --
when soldiers break and run, good-bye glory,
good-bye all defenses!
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 651ff]

Now, dear friends, be men, keep hold of your valorous spirit,
feel shame, each on account of the rest in the violent combats;
more of the men who feel such shame live safely than perish,
while from the ones who flee no glory nor any defense springs.
[tr. Merrill (2007), l. 529ff]

People, whose own Conduct is the most ridiculous, are always readiest to detract from that of others.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

They whose own conduct is the most ridiculous are always the first to slander others.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

The people whose conduct offers the greatest hold to ridicule are always the first to speak unkindly of others.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

People whose conduct is the most ridiculous, are always the readiest to run down that of others.
[tr. Mathew (1890)]

Those who are the most ridiculous in their own conduct are always the first to libel others.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

Those whose own conduct's most ridiculous,
Are always quickest to speak ill of others.
[tr. Page (1909)]

Those whose behavior is ridiculous
Always are first to see the faults of others.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

Those whose behavior is most asinine
Are always more than ready to malign.
[tr. Frame (1967)]

Since they are always talked about,
They're sniffing other scandal out.
[tr. Bolt (2002)]

It's always the most ridiculous people who are the first to slander others.
[tr. Steiner (2008)]

People with the most to hide are always the worst.
Always the first to criticize others.
[tr. Campbell (2013)]

Those whose conduct gives room for talk
Are always the first to attack their neighbors.
[Bartlett's]

• "Nothing is more humiliating than to see idiots succeed in enterprises we have failed in."
• "There is nothing so humiliating to see as blockheads succeed in undertakings in which we ourselves fail." [Ranout ed. (1922)]
• "There is nothing so humiliating as to see blockheads succeed in undertakings in which we fail." [tr. Bouvard ed. rev. (2003)]

The contumelious, too, commits slight -- for contumely is the infliction of injury and pain under such circumstances as cause shame to the sufferer, not that any good may accrue to himself (the agent) other than the act itself, but that he may be pleased. [...] The reason of pleasure accruing to the contumelious is, that they think themselves rendered far superior by thus acting injuriously. Whence the young and the rich are contumelious, for they think that to give affront shews their superiority.
[Source (1847)]

He, too, who acts contumeliously manifests slight; for contumely is the doing and saying of those things about which the person who is the subject of this treatment, has feelings of delicacy, not with a view that any thing should accrue to himself, other than what arises to him in the act, but in order that he may be gratified. [...] Now the cause of the pleasure felt by those who act contumeliously, is that, by injuring, they conceive themselves to be more decidedly superior: on which account young men and the rich are given to contumely, for in manifesting the contumely, they conceive themselves superior.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]

The man who insults, again, slights; for insolence is to do and say things which shame the sufferer; not in order that anything may accrue to the insulter, or because anything has been done to him, but in order that he may have joy. [...] The source of pleasure to the insulters is this, -- they fancy that, by ill-treating the other people, they are showing the greater superiority. Hence young men and rich men are insolent; they fancy that, by insulting, they are superior.
[tr. Jebb (1873)]

Insolence is also a form of slighting, since it consists in doing and saying things that cause shame to the victim, not in order that anything may happen to yourself, or because anything has happened to yourself, but simply for the pleasure involved. [...] The cause of the pleasure thus enjoyed by the insolent man is that he thinks himself greatly superior to others when ill-treating them. That is why youths and rich men are insolent; they think themselves superior when they show insolence.
[tr. Roberts (1924)]

Similarly, he who insults another also slights him; for insult consists in causing injury or annoyance whereby the sufferer is disgraced, not to obtain any other advantage for oneself besides the performance of the act, but for one's own pleasure. [...] The cause of the pleasure felt by those who insult is the idea that, in ill-treating others, they are more fully showing superiority. That is why the young and the wealthy are given to insults; for they think that, in committing them, they are showing their superiority.
[tr. Freese (1926)]

And disparagement may be motivated by abusiveness, which is acting and speaking in such a way as to make your victim feel shame, not because you will gain from it, and not in response to anything that has happened to you, but just for the pleasure of it. [...] The reason why an abusive man feels pleasure is his belief that by treating others badly he increases his superiority to them. That is why youth and wealth make people abusive: they think that by insulting others they are establishing their superiority.
[tr. Waterfield (2018)]

And he who is insolent to someone also slights him, for insolence is doing and saying such things as are a source of shame to the person suffering them, not so that some other advantage may accrue to the insolent person or because something happened to him, but so that he may gain pleasure thereby. [...] And a cause of the pleasure the insolent feel is their supposing that, by inflicting harm, they themselves are to a greater degree superior. Hence the young and the wealthy are insolent, for they suppose that, by being insolent, they are superior.
[tr. Bartlett (2019)]

Thus good men to themselves long life can give,
T' enjoy our former life is twice to live.
[tr. May (1629)]

Each must, in vertue, strive for to excell;
That man lives twice, that lives the first life well.
[tr. Herrick (1648)]

He liveth twice, who can the Gift retain
Of Mem'ry, to enjoy past Life again.
[tr. Cotton (1685)]

Thus a good man prolongs his mortal date;
Lives twice, enjoying thus his former slate.
[tr. Hay (1755)]

For he lives twice who can at once employ
The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.
[tr. Pope (1713)]

They stretch the limits of this narrow span;
And, by enjoying, live past life again.
[tr. Lewis (1750)]

A good man amplifies the span of his existence ; for this is to live twice, to be able to find enjoyment in past life.
[tr. Amos (1858); he gives several other contemporary uses and translations.]

A good man lengthens his term of existence; to be able to enjoy our past life is to live twice.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]

So good men lengthen life; and to recall
The past, is to have twice enjoyed it all.
[tr. Stevenson (c. 1883)]

The good man prolongs his life; to be able to enjoy one's past life is to live twice.
[Bartlett's (1891)]

A good man has a double span of life,
For to enjoy past life is twice to live.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]

A good man widens for himself his age's span; he lives twice who can find delight in life bygone.
[tr. Ker (1919)]

Redoubled happiness and life hath he
Whose joy doth live again in memory.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]

The good man lengthens out his earthly skein,
For living in the past is life again.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #525]

A good man's life is doubly long,
For he lives twice who, day and night,
Can in his whole past take delight.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]

Virtue extends our days: he lives two lives who relives his past with pleasure.
[Bartlett's (1968)]

A good man enlarges for himself his span of life. To be able to enjoy former life is to live twice over.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

The good man has no ugly past he would forget,
So memory gives him doubled life without regret.
[tr. Ericsson (1995)]

He does not deplore life's brevity.
For virtue is itself longevity.
[tr. Wills (2007)]

When I remember,
success, failure,
friend, enemy,
wife, lover
I live twice over.
[tr. Kennelly (2008), "Living"]

A good man can expand his life: he lives
twice over whose past life can be enjoyed.
[tr. McLean (2014)]

The good man broadens for himself the span of his years: to be able to enjoy the life you have spent, is to live it twice.
[tr. Nisbet (2015)]

[La pure valeur, s’il y en avoit, seroit de faire sans témoins ce qu’on est capable de faire devant le monde.]

Pure Valour, if there were any such thing, would consist in the doing of that without witnesses, which it were able to do, if all the world were to be spectators thereof.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶117]

True Valour would do all that, when alone, that it could do, if all the World were by.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶217]

Perfect valour consists in doing without witnesses all we should be capable of doing before the whole world.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶431; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶207; ed. Carvill (1835), ¶367]

Perfect valor is to do unwitnessed what we should be capable of doing before all the world.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶225]

Perfect valour is to do without witnesses what one would do before all the world.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶216]

Perfect valor accomplishes without witnesses what anyone could do before the eyes of the world.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶221]

Perfect courage consists in doing unobserved what we could do in the eyes of the world.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶216]

Perfect courage means doing unwitnessed what we would be capable of with the world looking on.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶216]

Perfect valor consists in doing without witnesses what one would be capable of doing before the world at large.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶216]

Perfect bravery is being able to do without witnesses what one would be able to do in front of everyone.
[tr. Siniscalchi (c. 1994)]

Perfect courage is to do without witnesses what one would do before all the world.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶216]

Perfect courage is to do without witnesses what one would be capable of doing with the world looking on.
[Source]

Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
[KJV (1611)]

Never try to get revenge; leave that, my friends, to God's anger. As scripture says: vengeance is mine - I will pay them back, the Lord promises. But there is more: If your enemy is hungry, you should give him food, and if he is thirsty, let him drink. Thus you heap red-hot coals on his head. Resist evil and conquer it with good.
[JB (1966)]

Never try to get revenge: leave that, my dear friends, to the Retribution. As scripture says: Vengeance is mine -- I will pay them back, the Lord promises. And more: If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat; if thirsty, something to drink. By this, you will be heaping red-hot coals on his head. Do not be mastered by evil, but master evil with good.
[NJB (1985)]

Never take revenge, my friends, but instead let God's anger do it. For the scripture says, “I will take revenge, I will pay back, says the Lord.” Instead, as the scripture says: “If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them a drink; for by doing this you will make them burn with shame.” Do not let evil defeat you; instead, conquer evil with good.
[GNT (1992 ed.)]

Don’t try to get revenge for yourselves, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath. It is written, Revenge belongs to me; I will pay it back, says the Lord. Instead, If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink. By doing this, you will pile burning coals of fire upon his head. Don’t be defeated by evil, but defeat evil with good.
[CEB (2011)]

Into the composition of every happiness enters the thought of having deserved it.
[tr. Calvert (1866), ch. 5]

It is an element of all happiness to fancy that we deserve it.
[tr. Collins (1928), ch. 5]

Not to be giltye or war wan at anye falte at all,
A bulwarke that, to beare all bruntes, be that the brasen wall.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

Be this a wall of Brass, to have within
No black accuser, harbour no pale sin.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]

Be this thy Guard, and this thy strong defence,
A vertuous Heart, and unstain'd Innocence;
Not to be conscious of a shameful sin:
Nor yet look pale for Scarlet Crimes within.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

True, conscious Honour is to feel no sin,
He ’s arm'd without that’s innocent within;
Be this thy Screen, and this thy Wall of Brass.
[tr. Pope (1737), ll. 93-95]

Be this thy brazen bulwark of defence,
Still to preserve thy conscious innocence,
Nor e'er turn pale with guilt.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Be good, then, and be great;
This be your tower of strength, your throne of state;
To keep your heart unconscious of a sin,
And feel no goadings of remorse within!
[tr. Howes (1845)]

Let this be a [man’s] brazen wall, to be conscious of no ill, to turn pale with no guilt.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Be this your wall of brass, your coat of mail,
A guileless heart, a cheek no crime turns pale.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

Let this be a wall of brass around you -- "Not to be conscious of crime, or of any fault which spreads paleness over the countenance."
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Be this our wall of bronze, to have no guilt at heart, no wrongdoing to turn us pale.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

And this bronze wall should be ours: to let no shame
Steal across our faces, no guilt steal into our hearts.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Make this your barrier of bronze,
that no crime burdens you, no guilt has turned you pale.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Let a man stand
Behind this bronze wall:
Never guilty,
Never pale with sin, and fear
Of sin.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

Let this be our defense: not to have any
Wrongdoing on our conscience to worry over.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

So let this be your wall of brass:
to have nothing on your conscience, nothing to give you a guilty pallor.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Let that be your wall of bronze,
To be free of guilt, with no wrongs to cause you pallor.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

CONSCIENCE. The inner voice which warns us that someone is looking.
[A Book of Burlesques, "The Jazz Webster" (1924)]

Conscience is the inner voice which warns us that someone may be looking.
[Chrestomathy, ch. 30 "Sententiae" (1949)]

[Talking and writing] plainly are powerless to guide the mass of men to Virtue and goodness; because it is not their nature to be amenable to a sense of shame but only to fear; nor to abstain from what is low and mean because it is disgraceful to do it but because of the punishment attached to it
[tr. Chase (1847), ch. 8]

But, for most men, mere precept is powerless to dispose them to noble conduct. For their nature is such, that they are not ruled by a proper sense of shame, but only by fear, and do not abstain from vice because of the disgrace which attaches to it, but because of the punishment which its practice involves.
[tr. Williams (1869)]

[Theories] are impotent to inspire the mass of men to chivalrous action; for it is not the nature of such men to obey honour but terror, nor to abstain from evil for fear of disgrace but for fear of punishment.
[tr. Welldon (1892)]

Yet [theories] are powerless to turn the mass of men to goodness. For the generality of men are naturally apt to be swayed by fear rather than by reverence, and to refrain from evil rather because of the punishment that it brings than because of its own foulness.
[tr. Peters (1893)]

[Arguments] are not able to encourage the many to nobility and goodness. For these do not by nature obey the sense of shame, but only fear, and do not abstain from bad acts because of their baseness but through fear of punishment.
[tr. Ross (1908)]

Yet [theories] are powerless to stimulate the mass of mankind to moral nobility. For it is the nature of the many to be amenable to fear but not to a sense of honor, and to abstain from evil not because of its baseness but because of the penalties it entails.
[tr. Rackham (1934)]

[Arguments are] unable to encourage ordinary people toward noble-goodness. For ordinary people naturally obey not shame but fear and abstain from base things not because of their shamefulness but because of the sanctions involved.
[tr. Reeve (1948)]

[Arguments] cannot exhort ordinary men to do good and noble deeds, for it is the nature of these men to obey not a sense of shame but fear, and to abstain from what is bad not because this is disgraceful but because of the penalties which they would receive.
[tr. Apostle (1975)]

[Discourses] are incapable of impelling the masses toward human perfection. For it is the nature of the many to be ruled by fear rather than by shame, and to refrain from evil not because of the disgrace but because of the punishments.
[tr. Thomson/Tredennick (1976)]

But [arguments] seem unable to turn the many toward being fine and good. For the many naturally obey fear, not shame; they avoid what is base because of the penalties, not because it is disgraceful.
[tr. Irwin/Fine (1995)]

Men blush not so much for their Crimes, as for their Weaknesses and Vanity.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

Men don't so much blush for their Crimes, as for their Weaknesses and Vanity.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

Men are less ashamed of their crimes than of their weaknesses and their vanity.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

Men are less ashamed of their crimes than of their failings and of what touches their vanity.
[tr. Stewart (1970)]

There are few people who are not ashamed of their amours when the fit is over.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶271; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶69]

Most people are ashamed of their amours when the fit is over.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶232]

There are very few people who, when their love is over, are not ashamed of having been in love.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶181]

There are few people who would not be ashamed of being beloved when they love no longer.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

There are few of us who are not ashamed of a mutual passion when love has died.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶177]

When two people have ceased to love, the memory that remains is almost always one of shame.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Few people, when they love no longer, but feel shame for having loved.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

There are few people who, when their love for each other is dead, are not ashamed of that love.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

There are few people who are not ashamed of having loved each other when they no longer do so.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.
[KJV (1611)]

If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.
[JB (1966)]

Let the one among you who is guiltless be the first to throw a stone at her.
[NJB (1985)]

Whichever one of you has committed no sin may throw the first stone at her.
[GNT (1992 ed.)]

Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]