My Only Hope Lies In My Despair.

The Crime Of A Mother Is A Heavy Burden.

The Glory Of My Name Increases My Shame. Less Known By Mortals, I Could Better Escape Their Eyes.

It Is A Maxim Of Old That Among Themselves All Things Are Common To Friends.

You Who Love Wild Passions, Flee The Holy Austerity Of My Pleasures. All Here Breathes Of God, Peace And Truth.

Too Much Virtue Can Be Criminal.