I confess, Eudora, it pained me to see you listen to his idle flattery.
How is it possible for me to confess, when I tell you I know nothing about her?
To confess the strange truth, he never told me you were musical.
Out of your bed and down on your knees to your own blessed father, and confess your sins.
It is not easy for an Anglo-Saxon to confess the realities of affection ...