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Sich in his prime death doth my love destroy, For every little grief to wet his eyos :
And so 'tis thine ; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast, as in his blood. And in his blood, that on the ground lay spilld, Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white; Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: She bows her head the new-sprung flower to smell, There shall not be one minute in an hour, Comparing it to her Adonis' breathi:
\Vherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower. And says within her bosom it shall dweli,
Thus weary of the world, away she hies, Since he himself is rest from her by death.
And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid, She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears Their mistress mounted through the empty skies Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. In he: light chariot quickly is convey'v ;. Poor flower, quoth she, this was thy father's guise, Holding their courso to Paphos, where their quoon
Meaus to immure herself, and not be seen. (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,)
RAPE OF LUCRECE.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton and Baron of Titchfield.
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 show greater; mean time, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom I wish long life, súll lengthened with happiness.
Your lordship's in all duty,
The Argument. LUCIUS TARQUINIUS, (for his extensive pride surnamed Superbueces,) after he had caused his own father
in-law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Ronan laws and customs, not requiring or staying for the people's sufrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom; went, accompanied with his sons, and other noblemen of Rome, io besiege Ardea. During which siege, the principal inen 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. In 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, (though it were late in the night,) spinning amongst her maids; the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or in several disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus the victory, and his wite the fame. At that time, Sextus Tarquinius, being intlamed with Lucrece's beauty, yet smothering his passions for the present, departed with the rest back in the camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself, and was (according to his state) royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he treacherously sealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, hastily despatcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, another to the camp for Collatine. They calle, the one accompanied with Judius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius; and finding Lucrece auired in mourning habit, demanded the cause of her gorrow. She first taking an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his dealing, 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 biler invective against the tyranny of the king: where with the people were so moved, that with one consent and a general acclamation, the Tarquins were all exiled, 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 lo such a peerless dame. Haply 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, cancell'd ere well begun : Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
He stories to her ears her husband's fame, The eyes of men without an orator ;
Won in the fields of fruitful Italy; What needeth then apology be made,
And decks with praises Collatine's high name, To set forth that which is so singular ?
Made glorious by his manly chivalry, Or why is Collatine the publisher
With bruised arms and wreaths of victory; Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express, From thievish ears, because it is his own ? And wordless so, greets heaven for his success Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty Far from the purpose of his coming thither, Suggested this proud issue of a king;
He makes excuses for his being there ; For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be:
No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather, Perchance that envy of so rich a thing,
Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear; Braving compare, disdainfully did sting (vaunt Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear, His high pitch'd thoughts, that moaner men should upon the world dim darkness doth display, That golden hap which their superiors want. And in her vaulty prison stows the day. But some untimely thought did instigate
For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those : Intending weariness with heavy spright; His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state, For, after supper, long he questioned Neglected all, with swift intent he goes
With modesi Lucrece, and wore out the night; To quench the coal which in his liver glows. Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight; 0, rash-false heat, wrapt in repentant cold, And every one to rest himself betakes, (wakes. Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old! Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, that When at Collatium this false lord arriv'd,
As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving Well was he welcom'd by the Roman dame, The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining; Within whose face beauty and virtue striv'd Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, [ing: Which of them both should underprop her fame : Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstainWhen virtue bragg’d, beauty would blush for shame; Despair to gain, doth traffic oft for gaining; When beauty boasted blushes, in despite
And when great treasure is the meed propos'd, Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white. Though death be adjunct, there's no death suppos'd. But beauty, in that white intituled,
Those that much covet, are with gain so fond, From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field; That what they have not, that which they possess, Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red, They scatter and unloose it from their bond, Which virtue gave the golden age to gild
And so, by hoping more, they have but less; Their silver eheeks, and call'd it then their shield; Or, gaining more, the profil of excess Teachir.g them thus to use it in the fight, - Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white. That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rích gain. This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
The aim of all is but to nurse the life Argued by beauty's red, and virtue's white. With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age, or either's colour was the other queen,
And in this aim there is such thwarting strife, Proving from world's minority their right : That one for all, or all for one we gage ; Yet their ambition makes them still to fight;
As life for honour, in fell battle's rage ; The sovereignty of either being so great
Honour for wealth ; and oft that wealth doth cost
So that in vent'ring ill, we leave to be
of that we have: so then we do neglect
Make something nothing, by augmenting it. Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tonguc, Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, (The niggard prodigal that prais'd her so,) Pawning his honour to obtain his lust; In that high task hath done her beauty wrong, And, for himself, himself he must forsake Which far exceeds his barren skill to show : Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe, When shall he think to find a stranger just, Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, When he himself himself confounds, betrays In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes.
To slanderous tongues, and wretched hateful days ? This earthly saint adored by this devil,
Now stole upon the time the dead of night, Little suspecteth the false worshipper;
When heavy sleep had clos'd up mortal eyes; For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil; No comfortable star did lend his light, Birds never lim'd no secret bushes fear:
No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries : So guiltless she securely gives good cheer Now serves the season that they may surprise And reverend welcome to her princely guest, The silly lambs; pure thoughts are dead and still, Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd : Whilo lust and murder wake, to stain and kill. For that he colour'd with his high estate,
And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed, Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty;
Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; That nothing in him seem'd inordinate,
Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm Which, having all, all could not satisfy ;
But honest Fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charm, But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store,
Doth too, too oft betake him to retire,
Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth,
As from this cold flint l'enforc'd this fire,
Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 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, What following sorrow may on this arise :
Where her beloved Collatinus lies. Then looking scornfully, he doth despise
0, how her fear did make her colour rise ! His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust,
First red as roses that on lawn we lay,
Forc'd it to tremble with her loyal fear!
Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd, With your uncleanness that which is divine ! Until her husband's welfare she did hear ; Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine :
Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer, Lel fair humanity abhor the deed
[weed. That had Narcissus seen her as she stood, That spots and stains love's modest snow-white Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood. O shame to knighthood and to shining arms!
Why hunt I then for colour or excuses ? O foul dishonour to my household's grave !
All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth, O impious act, including all foul harms !
Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses;
Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth: A martial man to be soft fancy's slave! True valour still a true respect should have ;
Affection is my captain, and he leadeth; Then my digression is so vile, so base,
And when bis gaudy banner is display'd, That it will live engraven in my face.
The coward fights, and will not be dismay'd. Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,
Then childish fear, avaunt! debating, die ! And be an eye-sore in my golden coat;
Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age!
My heart shall never countermand mine eye:
pause To cipher me, how fondly I did dote ;
and deep regard beseem the sage;
My part is youth, and beats these from the stage : That my posterity, sham'd with the note, Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin
Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize ;
Then who fears sinking, where such treasure To wish that I their father had not been.
lies? What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust. Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week?
Away he steals with open listening ear, Or sells eternity, to get a toy ?
Full of foul hope, and full of fond mistrust ;. For one swed grape who will the vine destroy ?
Both which, as servitors to the unjust, Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, So cross him with their opposite persuasion, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down ? That now he vows a league, and now invasion. If Collatinus dream of my intent,
Within his thought her heavenly image sits, Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage
And in the self-same seat sits Collatine : Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent? That eye which looks on her confounds his wits ; This siege that hath engirt his marriage,
That eye which him beholds, as more divine, This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,
Unto a view so false will not incline This dying virtue, this surviving shame,
But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame ? Which once corrupted, takes the worser part; O, what excuse can my invention make,
And therein heartens up his servile powers, When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund show, Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake? Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours ; Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed? And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed; Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,
By reprobate desire thus madly led, But coward-like with trembling terror die.
The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire,
The locks between her chamber and his will, Or lain in ambush to betray my life,
Each one by him enforc'd, retires his ward ; Or were he not my dear friend, this desire
But as they open, they all rate his ill, Might have excuse to work upon his wife ;
Which drives the creeping thief to some regard :
The threshold grates the door to have him heard ; As in revenge or quittal of such strife : But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend,
Night-wandering weasels shriek, to see him there ; The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.
They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.
As each unwilling portal yields him way, Shameful it is ;-ay, if the fact be known :
Through little vents and crannies of the place Hateful it is ;-there is no hate in loving :
The wind wars with his torch, to make him stay, I'll beg her love ;-but she is not her own :
And blows the smoke of it into his face,
Extinguishing his conduct in this case ;
But his hot beart, which fond desire doth scorch, Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw, Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch: Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.
And being lighted, by the light he spies Thus, graceless, holds he disputation,
Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks; 'Tween frozen conscience and hot burning will, He takes it from the rushes where it lies; And with good thoughts makes dispensation,
And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks : Urging the worser sense for vantage still;
As who should say, this glove to wanton tricks which in a moment doth confound and kill
Is not inur'd; return again in haste ; All pure effects, and doch so far proceed,
Thou seest our mistress' ornaments are chaste. That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed.
But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him ;
He in the worst sense construes their denial : 1 Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive! In the books of heraldry, a particular mark
of disgrace The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him, is mentioned, by which the escutcheons of those per.
He takes for accidental things of trial ; sons were anciently distinguished, who discourteously Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial; used a widow, maid, or wife, against her will.:-Ma. 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, Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blu.,
Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew
What could he see, but mightily he noted ?
With more than admiration he admir'd
Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins :
Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effecting,
Left their round lurrets destitute and pale
They, mustering to the quiet cabinet
Where their dear governess and lady lies,
And fright her with confusion of their cries :
Imagine her as one in dead night
What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking,
Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, Then had ihey seen the period of their ill! Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies; Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side,
She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears
Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes;
His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,
(Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall !) Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, May feel her heart (poor citizen!) distress'd, Swelling on either side, to want his bliss ;
Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall, Between whose hills her head intombed is : Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, This moves in him more rage, and lesser pity, To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd
To make the breach, and enter this sweet city. Without the bed her other fair hand was,
First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin
Who, o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin,
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still,
Under what colour he commits this ill. Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath; Thus he replies : The colour in thy face, O modest wantons! wanton modesty!
(That even for anger makes the lily pale, Showing life's triumph in the map of death, And the red rose blush at her own disgrace,) And death's dim look in life's mortality :
Shall plead for me, and tell my loving tale :
Under that colour am I come to scale
Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide : |Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd
And 'midst the sentence so her accent breaks,
That twice she doth begin, ere once she speaks. I see what crosses my attempt will bring;
She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
By her untimely tears, her husband's love,
By heaven and earth, and all the power of both, Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
That to his borrow'd bed he make retire,
[breed ; Quoth she, reward not hospitality
Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; I know repentant tears epsue the deed;
End thy ill aim, before thy shoot be ended; Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity;
He is no wood-man that doth bend his bow Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.
To strike a poor unseasonable doe. This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, My husband is thy friend, for his sake spare mo; Which, like a falcon towering in the skies, Thyself art mighty, for thine own sake leave me; Coucherh the fowl below with his wings' shade, Myself a weakling, do not then ensnare me: Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount he dies: Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive me : So under his insulting falchion lies
My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells,
thee. With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells. If ever man were mov'd with woman's moans,
Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans , Lucrece, quoth he, this night I must enjoy thee : If thou deny, then force must work my way, All which together, like a troubled ocean, For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee; Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threat'ning heart, That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll slay, To soften it with their continual motion ; To kill thine honour with thy life's decay ; For stones dissolv'd to water do convert. And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him, 0, if no harder than a stone thou art, Swearing 1 slew him, seeing thee embrace him. Melt at my tears and he compassionate! So thy surviving husband shall remain
Soft pity enters at an iron gate. The scornful mark of every open eye;
In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee: Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain, Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame ? Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy: To all the host of heaven I complain me, (name. And thou, the author of their obloquy,
Thou wrong'st his honour, wound'st his princely Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes, Thou art not what thou seem'st; and if the same, And sung by children in succeeding times. Thou seem'st not what thou art, a god, a king; But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend :
For kings like gods should govern cvery thing. The fault unknown is as a thought unacted; How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, A little harm, done to a great good end,
When thus thy vices bud before thy spring ? For lawful policy remains enacted.
If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage, The poisonous simple sometimes is compacted What dar'st thou not, when once thou art a king ? In a pure compound; being so applied,
O, be remember'd, no outrageous thing llis venom in effect is purified.
From vassal actors can be wip'd away; Then for thy husband, and thy children's sake,
Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay. Tender my suit: bequeath not to their lot This deed will make thee only lov'd for fear, The shame that from them no device can take, But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love : The blemish that will never be forgot ;
With foul offenders thou perforce must bear, Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot : When they in thee the like offences prove : For marks descried in men's nativity
If but for fear of this, thy will remove; Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.
For princes are the glass, the school, the book. Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye,
Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look. He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause; And wilt thou be the school where Lust shalt learni While she, the picture of pure piety,
Must he in thee read lectures of such shame? Like a white hind under the grype's sharp claws, Wilt thou be glass, wherein it shall discern Pleads in a wilderness, where are no laws, Authority for sin, warrant for blame, To the rough beast that knows no gentle right, To privilege dishöhour in thy name Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite.
Thou black'st reproach against long-lived laud, Look, when a black-fac'd cloud the world doth And mak'st fair reputalion but a bawd. threat,
Hast thou command ? by him that gave it thee, In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, From a pure heart command thy rebel will: From earth's dark womb some gentle dust doth get, Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity, Which blows these pitchy vapours from their biding, For it was lent thee all that brood to kill. Hindering their present fall by this dividing: Thy princely office how canst thou fulfil, So his unhallow'd haste her words delays, When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul Sin may say, And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays. He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the way? Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally, Think but how vile a spectacle it were, While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth: To view thy present trespass in another. Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,
Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear; A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth : Their own transgressions partially they smother : His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy brother. No penetrable entrance to her plaining :
O, how are they wrapp'd in with infarnies, Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining. That from their own misdeeds askaunce their eyes!