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to THE RIGHT HONOURAB LE HENRY WRIOTHEs LY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
The love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. , Were my worth greater, my duty would shew greater; mean time, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with happiness.
Your lordship's in all duty,
Willia M SHAksPEARE.
Lucius o: his excessive pride surnamed Superbus) after he had caused his own father-in-law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs, not requiring or staying for the people's suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom; went, accompanied with his sons, and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. . During which siege, the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son, in their discourses after supper every one commended the virtues of his own wife; among whom, Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. T. that pleasant humour they all posted to Rome; and intending, by their secret and sudden arrival, to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds his wife to, it were late in the night) spinning amongst her maids; the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or in several disports. Yor. the noblemen o Collatinus the victory, and his wife the same. At that time, Sextus 'fool. being inflamed with Lucrece' beauty, yet smothering his assions for the present, departed with the rest back to the camp; from whence he shortly after Fo withdrew himsels, and was §. his state) royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night, he treacherously stealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this, lamentable plight, hastily desteheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, another to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one accompanied with Junius rutus, the other with Publius Valerius; and finding Lucrece attired in mouruing habit, demanded the cause of her sorrow. She first o: oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his deling, and withal suddenly stabbed herself. Which done, with one consent, they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the Tarquins; and bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed, with a bitter investive against the tyrann of the king; wherewith the people were so moved, that with one consent and a general acclamation, the Tarquins were all o, and the state government changed from kings to consuls.
From the besieg'd Ardea all in post, For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state:
Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire, In the possession of his beauteous mate;
Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire, Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate,
And girdle with embracing flames the waist That kings might be espoused to more fame,
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste. But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
Hoo'. that name of chaste unhapp’ly set O happiness enjoy'd but of a few
This bateless edge on his keen appetite; And, if possess'd, as soon decay’d and done
When Collatine unwisely did not let As is the morning's silver-melting dew
To praise the clear unmatched red and white Against the golden splendour of the sun'
Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight; An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun:
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
With pure aspécts did him peculiar duties. Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.
Beauty itself doth of itself
The eyes of men without an orator;
What needeth then apology be made,
To set forth that which is so singular?
Or why is Collatine the publisher
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
From thievish ears, because it is his own?
Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty
Suggested this proud issue of a king ;
For by our ears our hearts ofttainted be:
Perchance that envy of so rich a thing,
Braving compare, disdainfully did sting [vaunt
His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should
That golden hap which their superiors want.
But some untimely thought did instigate
His all-too-timeless s , if none of those :
His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state,
Neglected all, with swift intent he goes
To quench the coal which in his liver glows.
O rash-false heat, wrapt in repentant cold,
Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old!
When at Collatium this false lord arriv'd,
Well was he welcom'd by the Roman dame,
Within whose face beauty and virtue striv'd
Which of them both should underprop her fame:
When virtue bragg'd,beauty would blush for shame;
When beauty boasted blushes, in despite
Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white.
But beauty, in that white intituled,
From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field;
Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red,
Which virtue gave the golden age to gild
Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield;
Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, L
When shame assail'd, the red should sence the white.
This heraldry in Lucrece’ face was seen,
Argued by heauty's red, and virtue's white.
Of either's colour was the other queen,
Proving from world's minority their right:
Yet their ambition makes them still to fight;
The sovereignty of either being so great,
That oft they interchange each other's seat.
This silent war of lilies and of roses,
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field,
In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses;
Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd,
The coward captive vanquished doth yield
To those two armies, that would let him go,
Rather than triumph in so false a foe.
Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue
(The niggard prodigal that prais'd her so)
In that high task hath done her beauty wrong,
Which far exceeds his barren skill to shew :-
Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe,
Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise,
In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes.
This earthly saint, adored by this devil,
Little suspecteth the false worshipper;
For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil;
Birds never lim'd no secret bushes fear:
So guiltless she securely gives good cheer
And reverend welcome to her princely guest,
Whose inward ill no outward so express'd:
For that he colour'd with his high estate,
Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty;
That nothing in him seem'd inordinate,
Save sometime too much wonder of his eye,
Which, having all, all could not satisfy;
But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store,
That cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more.
But she, that never cop'd with stranger eyes,
Gould pick no meaning from their parling looks,
Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies
Writ in the glassy margents of such books;
She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks;
Nor could she moralize his wanton sight
More than his eyes were open'd to to
He stories to her ears her husband's fame,
Won in the fields of fruitful Italy;
And decks with praises Collatine's high name,
Made glorious by his manly chivalry
With bruised arius and wreaths of victory;
Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express,
And wordless so, greets heaven for his success.
Far from the purpose of his coming thither,
He makes excuses for his being there.
No cloudy shew of stormy blustering weather,
Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear:
Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Ferr,
Upon the world dim darkness doth display,
And in her vaulty prison stows the day.
For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
Intending weariness with heavy spright;
For, after supper, long he questioned
With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night:
Now leaden slumber with life’s strength doth foot-
And every one to rest himself betakes, [wakes.
Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, to
As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining;
Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, of
Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstan-
Despair to gain, doth traffic oft for gaining;
And when great treasure is the meed propos'd,
Though death be adjunct, there's no death supposł.
Those that much covet, are with gain so fond,
That what they have not, that which they posses,
They scatter and unloose it from their booid.
And so, by hoping more, they have but less;
Or, gaining more, the profit of excess
Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain,
That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
The aim of all is but to nurse the life
With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age;
And in this aim there is such thwarting strife,
That one for all, or all for one we gage;
As life for honour, in fell battles' rage;
Honour for wealth; and ost that wealth doth cost
The death of all, and altogether lost.
So that in vent'ring ill, we leave to be
The things we are for that which we expect;
And this ambitious foul infirmity,
In having much, torments us with defect
Of that we have : so then we do neglect
The thing we have; and, all for want of wit,
Make something nothing, by augmenting it.
Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make,
Pawning his honour to obtain his lust;
And, for himself, himself he must forsake:
Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust?
When shall he think to find a stranger just,
When he himself himself confounds, betrays
To slanderous tongues, and wretched hateful days'
Now stole upon the time the dead of night,
When heavy sleep had clos'd up mortal eyes;
No comfortable star did lend his light,
No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries:
Now serves the season that they may surprise
The silly lambs; pure thoughts are dead and still,
While lust and murder wake, to stain and kill.
And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed,
Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm;
Is madly toss'd between desire and dread;
Th’ one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm;
But honest Fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charm,
Doth too too oft betake him to retire,
Beaten away by brain-sick rude Desire.
His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth,
That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly;
Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth,
Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye;
And to the flame thus speaks advisedly:
As from this cold flint I enforc'd this fire,
So Lucrece must I force to my desire.
Here pale with fear he doth premeditate * The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, * And in his inward mind he doth debate * What following sorrow may on this arise: * Then looking scornfully, he doth despise
His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust, - And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust. * Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not
To darken her whose light excelleth thine! ... And die, unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot * With your uncleanness that which is divine! Osfer pure incense to so pure a shrine: Let fair humanity abhor the deed [weed. * That spots and stains love's modest snow-white
O shame to knighthood and to shining arms!
Q foul dishonour to my household's grave!
O impious act, including all foul harms!
A martial man to be soft fancy's slave!
True valour still a true respect should have;
Then my digression is so vile, so base,
* That it will live engraven in my face.
- Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, ... And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; ... Some loathsome dash the #. will contrive, ... To cipher me, how fondly I did dote; ... That my posterity, sham'd with the note, Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin To wish that I their father had not been.
* What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week?
. Or sells eternity, to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
- Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?
If Collatinus dream of my intent,
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent}
This siege that hath engirt his marriage,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,
This dying virtue, this surviving shame,
Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame?
O, what excuse can my invention make,
When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed?
Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake?
Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed!
The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed;
And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,
But coward-like with trembling terror die.
, Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire,
Orlain in ambush to betray my life,
Or were he not my dear friend, this desire
Might have excuse to work upon his wife;
As in revenge or quittal of such strife:
But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend,
The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.
Shameful it is ;-ay, if the fact be known:
Hateful it is;–there is no hate in loving:
I'll beg her love;—but she is not her own:
The worst is but denial, and reproving:
My will is strong, past reason's weak removing:
Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw,
Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.
Thus, graceless, holds he disputation,
'Tween frozen conscience and hot burning will,
And with good thoughts makes dispensation,
Urging the worser sense for vantage still;
Which in a moment doth confound and kill
All pure effects, and doth so far proceed,
That what is vile shews like a virtuous deed.
Quoth he, she took me kindly by the hand,
And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes;
Fearing some hard news from the warlike band,
Where her beloved Collatinus lies.
O, how her fear did make her colour rise!
First red as roses that on lawn we lay,
Then white as lawn, the roses took away.
And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd,
Fore'd it to tremble with her loyal fear?
Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd,
Until her husband's welfare she did hear;
Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer,
That had Narcissus seen her as she stood,
Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood.
Why hunt I then for colour or excuses :
All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth;
Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses;
Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth:
Affection is my captain, and he leadeth;
And when his gaudy banner is displayid,
The coward fights, and will not be dismay’d.
Then childish fear, avaunt! debating, die!
Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age -
My so shall never countermand mine eye:
Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage;
My part is youth, and beats these from the stage:
Desire §. is, beauty my prize;
Then who fears sinking, where such treasure lies?
As corn o'er-grown by weeds, so heedful fear
Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust.
Away he steals with open listening ear,
Full of foul hope, and full of fond mistrust;
Both which, as servitors to the unjust,
So cross him with their opposite persuasion,
That now he vows a league, and now invasion.
Within his thought her heavenly image sits,
And in the self-same seat sits Collatine:
That eye which looks on her, confounds his wits;
That eye which him beholds, as more divine,
Unto a view so false will not incline;
But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart,
Which once corrupted, takes the worser part;
And therein heartens up his servile powers,
Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund shew,
Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours;
And as their captain, so their pride doth grow,
Paying more slavish tribute than they owe.
By reprobate desire thus madly led,
#. Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.
The locks between her chamber and his will,
Each one by him enforc'd, retires his ward;
But as they open, they all rate his ill,
Which drives the creeping thief to some regard:
The threshold grates the door to have him heard;
Night-wandering weasels shriek, to see him there;
They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.
As each unwilling portal yields him way,
Through little vents and crannies of the place
The wind wars with his torch, to make him stay,
And blows the smoke of it into his face,
Extinguishing his conduct in this case;
But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch,
Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch:
And being lighted, by the light he spies
Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks;
He takes it from the rushes where it lies;
And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks:
As who should say, this glove to wanton tricks
Is not inur'd , return again in haste; -
Thou seest our mistress' ornaments are chaste.
But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;
He in the worst sense construes their denial:
The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him,
He takes for accidental things of trial;
Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial;
Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let,
Till every minute pays the hour his debt.
So, so, quoth he, these lets attend the time,
Like its. frosts that sometime threat the spring,
To add a more rejoicing to the prime, -
And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing.
Pain pays theincome of each precious thing; [sands,
Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves and
The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.
Now is he come unto the chamber-door,
That shuts him from the heaven of his thought,
Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,
Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing he sought.
So from himself impiety hath wrought,
That for his prey to pray he doth begin,
As if the heavens should countenance his sin.
But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer,
Having solicited the eternal power
That his foul to oughts might compass his fair fair,
And they would stand auspicious to the hour,
Even there he starts:—quoth he, I must deflour;
The powers to whom I pray, abhor this fact,
How can they then assist me in the act?
Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide'
My will is back'd with resolution:
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried,
The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution;
Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution.
The eye of heaven is out, and misty night
Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.
This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,
And with his knee the door he opens wide:
The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch :
Thus treason works ere traitors be espy’d.
Who sees the lurking serpent, steps aside;
But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.
Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,
And gazeth on her yet-unstained bed.
The curtains being close, about he walks,
Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head:
By their high treason is his heart misled;
hich gives the watch-word to his hand full soon,
To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon.
Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun,
Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight;
Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun
To wink, being blinded with a greater light:
Whether it is, that she reflects so bright,
That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed;
But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed.
O, had they in that darksome prison died,
Then had they seen the period of their ill!
Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side,
In his clear bed might have reposed still:
But they must ope, this blessed league to kill;
And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight
Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight.
Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss;
Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder,
Swelling on either side, to want his bliss ;
Between whose hills her head intombed is :
Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.
Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet : whose perfect white
Shew'd like an April daisy on the grass,
With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night.
Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light;
And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay,
Till they might open to adorn the day.
Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her
O modest wantons ! wanton modesty! [breath;
Shewing life's triumph in the map of death,
And death's dim . in life's mortality:
Each in her sleep themselves so beautify,
As if between them twain there were no strife,
But that life liv'd in death, and death in life.
Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue,
A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,
Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred;
'ho, like a foul usurper, went about
From this fair throne to heave the coner out.
What could he see, but mightily he noted?
What did he note, but strongly he desir'd?
What he beheld, on that he firmly doted,
And in his will his wilful eye he tir’d.
With more than admiration he admir’d
Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin.
As the grin lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied.
So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,
His rage of lust, by gazing qualified ;
Slack'd, not suppress'd ; for standing by her so
His eye, which late this mutiny restrains,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins:
And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fight:
Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor children's tears, nor mothers' groans respects:
Swell in their pride, the onset still experties.
Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liko
His drumming heart chears up his burning eye
His eye commends the leading to his hand;
His hand, as proud of such a dignity,
Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his so
On her bare breast, the heart of all her land:
Whose ranks of blue veins. as his hand did sto
Left their round turrets destitute and pale.
They mustering to the quiet cabinet
Where their dear governess and lady lies,
Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,
And fright her with confusion of their cries:
She, much amaz'd, breaks ope her lock'd-up so
Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold,
Are §§. flaming torch dimm'd and controlsd.
Imagine her as one in dead of night
From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy wałis:
That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly spore
Whose grim aspéct sets every joint a shaking
What terror 'tis' but she, in worser taking,
From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view
The sight which makes supposed terror true.
Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears,
Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies;
She dares not look; yet, winking, there apper
Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes;
Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries:
Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights
In darkness daunts them with more dreadfuls:
His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,
(Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall !)
May feel her heart (poor citizen') distress'd,
Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall,
Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withil.
This moves in him more rage, and lesser pi:
To make the breach, and enter this sweet city.
First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin
To sound a parley to his heartless foe;
Who, o'er the white sheet peers her whiter ch:
The reason of this rash alarm to know,
Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to shew,
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still,
Under what colour he commits this ill.
Thus he replies: The colour in thy face
o even for anger makes the lily pale.
nd the red rose blush at her own disgrace.)
Shall plead for me, and tell my loving tale:
Under that colour am I come to scale
Thy never-conquer'd fort; the fault is thine,
For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine.
Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide:
Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night,
Where thou with patience must my will abide
My will that marks thee for my earth's delight
Which I to conquer sought with all my might
But as reproof and reason beat it dead,
By thy bright beauty was it newly bred.