0 <T title>TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, +
0 EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD
<T prose>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 he 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, meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom I wish long life still lengthened with all happiness.
Your lordship's in all duty,
William Shakespeare
0 <T title>THE ARGUMENT
<T prose>Lucius Tarquinius (for 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 everyone 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 everyone 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 wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius, being enflamed with Lucrece' beauty, yet smothering his passions for the present, departed with the rest back to the camp, from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself and was, according to his estate, 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 dispatcheth messengers_one to Rome for her father, another to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius, and, finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause of her sorrow. 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 bitter invective against the tyranny of the King; wherewith 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.
0 <T title>The Rape of Lucrece
1 <T verse> From the besieged Ardea all in post,
2 Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,
3 Lust-breathe\d Tarquin leaves the Roman host
4 And to Collatium bears the lightless fire
5 Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire
6 And girdle with embracing flames the waist
7 Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.
8 Haply that name of chaste unhapp'ly set
9 This bateless edge on his keen appetite,
10 When Collatine unwisely did not let
11 To praise the clear unmatche\d red and white
12 Which triumphed in that sky of his delight,
13 Where mortal stars as bright as heaven's beauties
14 With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.
15 For he the night before in Tarquin's tent
16 Unlocked the treasure of his happy state,
17 What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
18 In the possession of his beauteous mate,
19 Reck'ning his fortune at such high-proud rate
20 That kings might be espouse\d to more fame,
21 But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
22 O happiness enjoyed but of a few,
23 And, if possessed, as soon decayed and done
24 As is the morning's silver melting dew
25 Against the golden splendour of the sun,
26 An expired date cancelled ere well begun!
27 Honour and beauty in the owner's arms
28 Are weakly fortressed from a world of harms.
29 Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
30 The eyes of men without an orator.
31 What needeth then apology be made
32 To set forth that which is so singular?
33 Or why is Collatine the publisher
34 Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
35 From thievish ears, because it is his own?
36 Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sov'reignty
37 Suggested this proud issue of a king,
38 For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be.
39 Perchance that envy of so rich a thing,
40 Braving compare, disdainfully did sting
41 His high-pitched thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt
42 That golden hap which their superiors want.
43 But some untimely thought did instigate
44 His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those.
45 His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state
46 Neglected all, with swift intent he goes
47 To quench the coal which in his liver glows.
48 O rash false heat, wrapped in repentant cold,
49 Thy hasty spring still blasts and ne'er grows old!
50 When at Collatium this false lord arrived,
51 Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame,
52 Within whose face beauty and virtue strived
53 Which of them both should underprop her fame.
54 When virtue bragged, beauty would blush for shame;
55 When beauty boasted blushes, in despite
56 Virtue would stain that or with silver white.
57 But beauty, in that white entitule\d
58 From Venus' doves, doth challenge that fair field.
59 Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red,
60 Which virtue gave the golden age to gild
61 Their silver cheeks, and called it then their shield,
62 Teaching them thus to use it in the fight:
63 When shame assailed, the red should fence the white.
64 This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
65 Argued by beauty's red and virtue's white.
66 Of either's colour was the other queen,
67 Proving from world's minority their right.
68 Yet their ambition makes them still to fight,
69 The sovereignty of either being so great
70 That oft they interchange each other's seat.
71 This silent war of lilies and of roses
72 Which Tarquin viewed in her fair face's field
73 In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses,
74 Where, lest between them both it should be killed,
75 The coward captive vanquishe\d doth yield
76 To those two armies that would let him go
77 Rather than triumph in so false a foe.
78 Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue,
79 The niggard prodigal that praised her so,
80 In that high task hath done her beauty wrong,
81 Which far exceeds his barren skill to show.
82 Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe
83 Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise
84 In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes.
85 This earthly saint adore\d by this devil
86 Little suspecteth the false worshipper,
87 For unstained thoughts do seldom dream on evil.
88 Birds never limed no secret bushes fear,
89 So guiltless she securely gives good cheer
90 And reverent welcome to her princely guest,
91 Whose inward ill no outward harm expressed,
92 For that he coloured with his high estate,
93 Hiding base sin in pleats of majesty,
94 That nothing in him seemed inordinate
95 Save sometime too much wonder of his eye,
96 Which, having all, all could not satisfy,
97 But poorly rich so wanteth in his store
98 That, cloyed with much, he pineth still for more.
99 But she that never coped with stranger eyes
100 Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,
101 Nor read the subtle shining secrecies
102 Writ in the glassy margins of such books.
103 She touched no unknown baits nor feared no hooks,
104 Nor could she moralize his wanton sight
105 More than his eyes were opened to the light.
106 He stories to her ears her husband's fame
107 Won in the fields of fruitful Italy,
108 And decks with praises Collatine's high name
109 Made glorious by his manly chivalry
110 With bruise\d arms and wreaths of victory.
111 Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express,
112 And wordless so greets heaven for his success.
113 Far from the purpose of his coming thither
114 He makes excuses for his being there.
115 No cloudy show of stormy blust'ring weather
116 Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear
117 Till sable night, mother of dread and fear,
118 Upon the world dim darkness doth display
119 And in her vaulty prison stows the day.
120 For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
121 Intending weariness with heavy sprite;
122 For after supper long he questione\d
123 With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night.
124 Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight,
125 And everyone to rest himself betakes
126 Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that wakes.
127 As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
128 The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining,
129 Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,
130 Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining.
131 Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining,
132 And when great treasure is the meed proposed,
133 Though death be adjunct, there's no death supposed.
134 Those that much covet are with gain so fond
135 That what they have not, that which they possess,
136 They scatter and unloose it from their bond,
137 And so by hoping more they have but less,
138 Or, gaining more, the profit of excess
139 Is but to surfeit and such griefs sustain
140 That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
141 The aim of all is but to nurse the life
142 With honour, wealth, and ease in waning age,
143 And in this aim there is such thwarting strife
144 That one for all, or all for one, we gage,
145 As life for honour in fell battle's rage,
146 Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost
147 The death of all, and all together lost.
148 So that, in vent'ring ill, we leave to be
149 The things we are for that which we expect,
150 And this ambitious foul infirmity
151 In having much, torments us with defect
152 Of that we have; so then we do neglect
153 The thing we have, and all for want of wit
154 Make something nothing by augmenting it.
155 Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make,
156 Pawning his honour to obtain his lust,
157 And for himself himself he must forsake.
158 Then where is truth if there be no self-trust?
159 When shall he think to find a stranger just
160 When he himself himself confounds, betrays
161 To sland'rous tongues and wretched hateful days?
162 Now stole upon the time the dead of night
163 When heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes.
164 No comfortable star did lend his light,
165 No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries
166 Now serves the season, that they may surprise
167 The silly lambs. Pure thoughts are dead and still,
168 While lust and murder wakes to stain and kill.
169 And now this lustful lord leapt from his bed,
170 Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm,
171 Is madly tossed between desire and dread.
172 Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm,
173 But honest fear, bewitched with lust's foul charm,
174 Doth too-too oft betake him to retire,
175 Beaten away by brainsick rude desire.
176 His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth,
177 That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly,
178 Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth,
179 Which must be lodestar to his lustful eye,
180 And to the flame thus speaks advisedly:
181 `As from this cold flint I enforced this fire,
182 So Lucrece must I force to my desire."
183 Here pale with fear he doth premeditate
184 The dangers of his loathsome enterprise,
185 And in his inward mind he doth debate
186 What following sorrow may on this arise.
187 Then, looking scornfully, he doth despise
188 His naked armour of still-slaughtered lust,
189 And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust:
190 `Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not
191 To darken her whose light excelleth thine;
192 And die, unhallowed thoughts, before you blot
193 With your uncleanness that which is divine.
194 Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine.
195 Let fair humanity abhor the deed
196 That spots and stains love's modest snow-white weed.
197 `O shame to knighthood and to shining arms!
198 O foul dishonour to my household's grave!
199 O impious act including all foul harms!
200 A martial man to be soft fancy's slave!
201 True valour still a true respect should have;
202 Then my digression is so vile, so base,
203 That it will live engraven in my face.
204 `Yea, though I die the scandal will survive
205 And be an eyesore in my golden coat.
206 Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive
207 To cipher me how fondly I did dote,
208 That my posterity, shamed with the note,
209 Shall curse my bones and hold it for no sin
210 To wish that I their father had not been.
211 `What win I if I gain the thing I seek?
212 A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
213 Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week,
214 Or sells eternity to get a toy?
215 For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
216 Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
217 Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?
218 `If Collatinus dream of my intent
219 Will he not wake, and in a desp'rate rage
220 Post hither this vile purpose to prevent?_
221 This siege that hath engirt his marriage,
222 This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,
223 This dying virtue, this surviving shame,
224 Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame.
225 `O what excuse can my invention make
226 When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed?
227 Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake,
228 Mine eyes forgo their light, my false heart bleed?
229 The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed,
230 And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,
231 But coward-like with trembling terror die.
232 `Had Collatinus killed my son or sire,
233 Or lain in ambush to betray my life,
234 Or were he not my dear friend, this desire
235 Might have excuse to work upon his wife
236 As in revenge or quittal of such strife.
237 But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend,
238 The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.
239 `Shameful it is_ay, if the fact be known.
240 Hateful it is_there is no hate in loving.
241 I'll beg her love_but she is not her own.
242 The worst is but denial and reproving;
243 My will is strong past reason's weak removing.
244 Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw
245 Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe."
246 Thus graceless holds he disputation
247 'Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will,
248 And with good thoughts makes dispensation,
249 Urging the worser sense for vantage still;
250 Which in a moment doth confound and kill
251 All pure effects, and doth so far proceed
252 That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed.
253 Quoth he, `She took me kindly by the hand,
254 And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes,
255 Fearing some hard news from the warlike band
256 Where her belove\d Collatinus lies.
257 O how her fear did make her colour rise!
258 First red as roses that on lawn we lay,
259 Then white as lawn, the roses took away.
260 `And how her hand, in my hand being locked,
261 Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear,
262 Which struck her sad, and then it faster rocked
263 Until her husband's welfare she did hear,
264 Whereat she smile\d with so sweet a cheer
265 That had Narcissus seen her as she stood
266 Self-love had never drowned him in the flood.
267 `Why hunt I then for colour or excuses?
268 All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth.
269 Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses;
270 Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth;
271 Affection is my captain, and he leadeth,
272 And when his gaudy banner is displayed,
273 The coward fights, and will not be dismayed.
274 `Then childish fear avaunt, debating die,
275 Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age!
276 My heart shall never countermand mine eye,
277 Sad pause and deep regard beseems the sage.
278 My part is youth, and beats these from the stage.
279 Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize.
280 Then who fears sinking where such treasure lies?"
281 As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear
282 Is almost choked by unresisted lust.
283 Away he steals, with open list'ning ear,
284 Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust,
285 Both which as servitors to the unjust
286 So cross him with their opposite persuasion
287 That now he vows a league, and now invasion.
288 Within his thought her heavenly image sits,
289 And in the selfsame seat sits Collatine.
290 That eye which looks on her confounds his wits,
291 That eye which him beholds, as more divine,
292 Unto a view so false will not incline,
293 But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart,
294 Which once corrupted, takes the worser part,
295 And therein heartens up his servile powers
296 Who, flattered by their leader's jocund show,
297 Stuff up his lust as minutes fill up hours,
298 And as their captain, so their pride doth grow,
299 Paying more slavish tribute than they owe.
300 By reprobate desire thus madly led
301 The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.
302 The locks between her chamber and his will,
303 Each one by him enforced, retires his ward;
304 But as they open they all rate his ill,
305 Which drives the creeping thief to some regard.
306 The threshold grates the door to have him heard,
307 Night-wand'ring weasels shriek to see him there.
308 They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.
309 As each unwilling portal yields him way,
310 Through little vents and crannies of the place
311 The wind wars with his torch to make him stay,
312 And blows the smoke of it into his face,
313 Extinguishing his conduct in this case.
314 But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch,
315 Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch,
316 And being lighted, by the light he spies
317 Lucretia's glove wherein her needle sticks.
318 He takes it from the rushes where it lies,
319 And gripping it, the needle his finger pricks,
320 As who should say `This glove to wanton tricks
321 Is not inured. Return again in haste.
322 Thou seest our mistress' ornaments are chaste."
323 But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;
324 He in the worst sense consters their denial.
325 The doors, the wind, the glove that did delay him
326 He takes for accidental things of trial,
327 Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial,
328 Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let
329 Till every minute pays the hour his debt.
330 `So, so," quoth he, `these lets attend the time,
331 Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring
332 To add a more rejoicing to the prime,
333 And give the sneape\d birds more cause to sing.
334 Pain pays the income of each precious thing.
335 Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves, and sands
336 The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands."
337 Now is he come unto the chamber door
338 That shuts him from the heaven of his thought,
339 Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,
340 Hath barred him from the blesse\d thing he sought.
341 So from himself impiety hath wrought
342 That for his prey to pray he doth begin,
343 As if the heavens should countenance his sin.
344 But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer
345 Having solicited th' eternal power
346 That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair,
347 And they would stand auspicious to the hour,
348 Even there he starts. Quoth he, `I must deflower.
349 The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact;
350 How can they then assist me in the act?
351 `Then love and fortune be my gods, my guide!
352 My will is backed with resolution.
353 Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried;
354 The blackest sin is cleared with absolution.
355 Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution.
356 The eye of heaven is out, and misty night
357 Covers the shame that follows sweet delight."
358 This said, his guilty hand plucked up the latch,
359 And with his knee the door he opens wide.
360 The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch.
361 Thus treason works ere traitors be espied.
362 Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside,
363 But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing,
364 Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.
365 Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,
366 And gazeth on her yet-unstaine\d bed.
367 The curtains being close, about he walks,
368 Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head.
369 By their high treason is his heart misled,
370 Which gives the watchword to his hand full soon
371 To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon.
372 Look as the fair and fiery-pointed sun
373 Rushing from forth a cloud bereaves our sight,
374 Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun
375 To wink, being blinded with a greater light.
376 Whether it is that she reflects so bright
377 That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed,
378 But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed.
379 O had they in that darksome prison died,
380 Then had they seen the period of their ill.
381 Then Collatine again by Lucrece' side
382 In his clear bed might have repose\d still.
383 But they must ope, this blesse\d league to kill,
384 And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight
385 Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight.
386 Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under,
387 Coz'ning the pillow of a lawful kiss,
388 Who therefore angry seems to part in sunder,
389 Swelling on either side to want his bliss;
390 Between whose hills her head entombe\d is,
391 Where like a virtuous monument she lies
392 To be admired of lewd unhallowed eyes.
393 Without the bed her other fair hand was,
394 On the green coverlet, whose perfect white
395 Showed like an April daisy on the grass,
396 With pearly sweat resembling dew of night.
397 Her eyes like marigolds had sheathed their light,
398 And canopied in darkness sweetly lay
399 Till they might open to adorn the day.
400 Her hair like golden threads played with her breath_
401 O modest wantons, wanton modesty!_
402 Showing life's triumph in the map of death,
403 And death's dim look in life's mortality.
404 Each in her sleep themselves so beautify
405 As if between them twain there were no strife,
406 But that life lived in death, and death in life.
407 Her breasts like ivory globes circled with blue,
408 A pair of maiden worlds unconquere\d,
409 Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew,
410 And him by oath they truly honoure\d.
411 These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred,
412 Who like a foul usurper went about
413 From this fair throne to heave the owner out.
414 What could he see but mightily he noted?
415 What did he note but strongly he desired?
416 What he beheld, on that he firmly doted,
417 And in his will his wilful eye he tired.
418 With more than admiration he admired
419 Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
420 Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin.
421 As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
422 Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied,
423 So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,
424 His rage of lust by gazing qualified,
425 Slaked not suppressed for standing by her side.
426 His eye which late this mutiny restrains
427 Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins,
428 And they like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,
429 Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting,
430 In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
431 Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans respecting,
432 Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting.
433 Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
434 Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking.
435 His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye,
436 His eye commends the leading to his hand.
437 His hand, as proud of such a dignity,
438 Smoking with pride marched on to make his stand
439 On her bare breast, the heart of all her land,
440 Whose ranks of blue veins as his hand did scale
441 Left their round turrets destitute and pale.
442 They, must'ring to the quiet cabinet
443 Where their dear governess and lady lies,
444 Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,
445 And fright her with confusion of their cries.
446 She much amazed breaks ope her locked-up eyes,
447 Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold,
448 Are by his flaming torch dimmed and controlled.
449 Imagine her as one in dead of night
450 From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking,
451 That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite
452 Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking.
453 What terror 'tis! But she in worser taking,
454 From sleep disturbe\d, heedfully doth view
455 The sight which makes suppose\d terror true.
456 Wrapped and confounded in a thousand fears,
457 Like to a new-killed bird she trembling lies.
458 She dares not look, yet, winking, there appears
459 Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes.
460 Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries,
461 Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights,
462 In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights.
463 His hand that yet remains upon her breast_
464 Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall_
465 May feel her heart, poor citizen, distressed,
466 Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall,
467 Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.
468 This moves in him more rage and lesser pity
469 To make the breach and enter this sweet city.
470 First like a trumpet doth his tongue begin
471 To sound a parley to his heartless foe,
472 Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin,
473 The reason of this rash alarm to know,
474 Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show.
475 But she with vehement prayers urgeth still
476 Under what colour he commits this ill.
477 Thus he replies: `The colour in thy face,
478 That even for anger makes the lily pale
479 And the red rose blush at her own disgrace,
480 Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale.
481 Under that colour am I come to scale
482 Thy never-conquered fort. The fault is thine,
483 For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine.
484 `Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide:
485 Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night,
486 Where thou with patience must my will abide,
487 My will that marks thee for my earth's delight,
488 Which I to conquer sought with all my might.
489 But as reproof and reason beat it dead,
490 By thy bright beauty was it newly bred.
491 `I see what crosses my attempt will bring,
492 I know what thorns the growing rose defends;
493 I think the honey guarded with a sting;
494 All this beforehand counsel comprehends.
495 But will is deaf, and hears no heedful friends.
496 Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
497 And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty.
498 `I have debated even in my soul
499 What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed;
500 But nothing can affection's course control,
501 Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.
502 I know repentant tears ensue the deed,
503 Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity,
504 Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy."
505 This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade,
506 Which like a falcon tow'ring in the skies
507 Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade
508 Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount he dies.
509 So under his insulting falchion lies
510 Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells
511 With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcons' bells.
512 `Lucrece," quoth he, `this night I must enjoy thee.
513 If thou deny, then force must work my way,
514 For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee.
515 That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll slay
516 To kill thine honour with thy life's decay;
517 And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,
518 Swearing I slew him seeing thee embrace him.
519 `So thy surviving husband shall remain
520 The scornful mark of every open eye,
521 Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain,
522 Thy issue blurred with nameless bastardy,
523 And thou, the author of their obloquy,
524 Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes
525 And sung by children in succeeding times.
526 `But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend.
527 The fault unknown is as a thought unacted.
528 A little harm done to a great good end
529 For lawful policy remains enacted.
530 The poisonous simple sometime is compacted
531 In a pure compound; being so applied,
532 His venom in effect is purified.
533 `Then for thy husband and thy children's sake
534 Tender my suit; bequeath not to their lot
535 The shame that from them no device can take,
536 The blemish that will never be forgot,
537 Worse than a slavish wipe or birth-hour's blot;
538 For marks descried in men's nativity
539 Are nature's faults, not their own infamy."
540 Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye
541 He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause,
542 While she, the picture of pure piety,
543 Like a white hind under the gripe's sharp claws,
544 Pleads in a wilderness where are no laws
545 To the rough beast that knows no gentle right,
546 Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite.
547 But when a black-faced cloud the world doth threat,
548 In his dim mist th' aspiring mountains hiding,
549 From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth get
550 Which blows these pitchy vapours from their biding,
551 Hind'ring their present fall by this dividing;
552 So his unhallowed haste her words delays,
553 And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays.
554 Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally
555 While in his holdfast foot the weak mouse panteth.
556 Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,
557 A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth.
558 His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth
559 No penetrable entrance to her plaining.
560 Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.
561 Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed
562 In the remorseless wrinkles of his face.
563 Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed,
564 Which to her oratory adds more grace.
565 She puts the period often from his place,
566 And midst the sentence so her accent breaks
567 That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks.
568 She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
569 By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's oath,
570 By her untimely tears, her husband's love,
571 By holy human law and common troth,
572 By heaven and earth and all the power of both,
573 That to his borrowed bed he make retire,
574 And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.
575 Quoth she, `Reward not hospitality
576 With such black payment as thou hast pretended.
577 Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee;
578 Mar not the thing that cannot be amended;
579 End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended.
580 He is no woodman that doth bend his bow
581 To strike a poor unseasonable doe.
582 `My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare me.
583 Thyself art mighty; for thine own sake leave me;
584 Myself a weakling; do not then ensnare me.
585 Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive me.
586 My sighs like whirlwinds labour hence to heave thee.
587 If ever man were moved with woman's moans,
588 Be move\d with my tears, my sighs, my groans.
589 `All which together, like a troubled ocean,
590 Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threat'ning heart
591 To soften it with their continual motion,
592 For stones dissolved to water do convert.
593 O, if no harder than a stone thou art,
594 Melt at my tears, and be compassionate.
595 Soft pity enters at an iron gate.
596 `In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee.
597 Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame?
598 To all the host of heaven I complain me.
599 Thou wrong'st his honour, wound'st his princely name.
600 Thou art not what thou seem'st, and if the same,
601 Thou seem'st not what thou art, a god, a king,
602 For kings like gods should govern everything.
603 `How will thy shame be seeded in thine age
604 When thus thy vices bud before thy spring?
605 If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage,
606 What dar'st thou not when once thou art a king?
607 O be remembered, no outrageous thing
608 From vassal actors can be wiped away;
609 Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay.
610 `This deed will make thee only loved for fear,
611 But happy monarchs still are feared for love.
612 With foul offenders thou perforce must bear
613 When they in thee the like offences prove.
614 If but for fear of this, thy will remove;
615 For princes are the glass, the school, the book
616 Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look.
617 `And wilt thou be the school where lust shall learn?
618 Must he in thee read lectures of such shame?
619 Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern
620 Authority for sin, warrant for blame,
621 To privilege dishonour in thy name?
622 Thou back'st reproach against long-living laud,
623 And mak'st fair reputation but a bawd.
624 `Hast thou command? By him that gave it thee,
625 From a pure heart command thy rebel will.
626 Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity,
627 For it was lent thee all that brood to kill.
628 Thy princely office how canst thou fulfil
629 When, patterned by thy fault, foul sin may say
630 He learned to sin, and thou didst teach the way?
631 `Think but how vile a spectacle it were
632 To view thy present trespass in another.
633 Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear;
634 Their own transgressions partially they smother.
635 This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy brother.
636 O, how are they wrapped in with infamies
637 That from their own misdeeds askance their eyes!
638 `To thee, to thee my heaved-up hands appeal,
639 Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier.
640 I sue for exiled majesty's repeal;
641 Let him return, and flatt'ring thoughts retire.
642 His true respect will prison false desire,
643 And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eyne,
644 That thou shalt see thy state, and pity mine."
645 `Have done," quoth he; `my uncontrolle\d tide
646 Turns not, but swells the higher by this let.
647 Small lights are soon blown out; huge fires abide,
648 And with the wind in greater fury fret.
649 The petty streams, that pay a daily debt
650 To their salt sovereign, with their fresh falls' haste
651 Add to his flow, but alter not his taste."
652 `Thou art," quoth she, `a sea, a sovereign king,
653 And lo, there falls into thy boundless flood
654 Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning,
655 Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood.
656 If all these petty ills shall change thy good,
657 Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hearsed,
658 And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed.
659 `So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave;
660 Thou nobly base, they basely dignified;
661 Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave;
662 Thou loathe\d in their shame, they in thy pride.
663 The lesser thing should not the greater hide.
664 The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot,
665 But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root.
666 `So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state"_
667 `No more," quoth he, `by heaven, I will not hear thee.
668 Yield to my love. If not, enforce\d hate
669 Instead of love's coy touch shall rudely tear thee.
670 That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee
671 Unto the base bed of some rascal groom
672 To be thy partner in this shameful doom."
673 This said, he sets his foot upon the light;
674 For light and lust are deadly enemies.
675 Shame folded up in blind concealing night
676 When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize.
677 The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb cries,
678 Till with her own white fleece her voice controlled
679 Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold.
680 For with the nightly linen that she wears
681 He pens her piteous clamours in her head,
682 Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears
683 That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed.
684 O that prone lust should stain so pure a bed,
685 The spots whereof could weeping purify,
686 Her tears should drop on them perpetually!
687 But she hath lost a dearer thing than life,
688 And he hath won what he would lose again.
689 This force\d league doth force a further strife,
690 This momentary joy breeds months of pain;
691 This hot desire converts to cold disdain.
692 Pure chastity is rifled of her store,
693 And lust, the thief, far poorer than before.
694 Look as the full-fed hound or gorge\d hawk,
695 Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight,
696 Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk
697 The prey wherein by nature they delight,
698 So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night.
699 His taste delicious, in digestion souring,
700 Devours his will that lived by foul devouring.
701 O deeper sin than bottomless conceit
702 Can comprehend in still imagination!
703 Drunken desire must vomit his receipt
704 Ere he can see his own abomination.
705 While lust is in his pride, no exclamation
706 Can curb his heat or rein his rash desire,
707 Till like a jade self-will himself doth tire.
708 And then with lank and lean discoloured cheek,
709 With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless pace,
710 Feeble desire, all recreant, poor, and meek,
711 Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case.
712 The flesh being proud, desire doth fight with grace,
713 For there it revels, and when that decays,
714 The guilty rebel for remission prays.
715 So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome
716 Who this accomplishment so hotly chased;
717 For now against himself he sounds this doom,
718 That through the length of times he stands disgraced.
719 Besides, his soul's fair temple is defaced,
720 To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares
721 To ask the spotted princess how she fares.
722 She says her subjects with foul insurrection
723 Have battered down her consecrated wall,
724 And by their mortal fault brought in subjection
725 Her immortality, and made her thrall
726 To living death and pain perpetual,
727 Which in her prescience she controlle\d still,
728 But her foresight could not forestall their will.
729 Ev'n in this thought through the dark night he stealeth,
730 A captive victor that hath lost in gain,
731 Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth,
732 The scar that will, despite of cure, remain;
733 Leaving his spoil perplexed in greater pain.
734 She bears the load of lust he left behind,
735 And he the burden of a guilty mind.
736 He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence;
737 She like a wearied lamb lies panting there.
738 He scowls, and hates himself for his offence;
739 She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear.
740 He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear;
741 She stays, exclaiming on the direful night.
742 He runs, and chides his vanished loathed delight.
743 He thence departs, a heavy convertite;
744 She there remains, a hopeless castaway.
745 He in his speed looks for the morning light;
746 She prays she never may behold the day.
747 `For day," quoth she, `night's scapes doth open lay,
748 And my true eyes have never practised how
749 To cloak offences with a cunning brow.
750 `They think not but that every eye can see
751 The same disgrace which they themselves behold,
752 And therefore would they still in darkness be,
753 To have their unseen sin remain untold.
754 For they their guilt with weeping will unfold,
755 And grave, like water that doth eat in steel,
756 Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel."
757 Here she exclaims against repose and rest,
758 And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind.
759 She wakes her heart by beating on her breast,
760 And bids it leap from thence where it may find
761 Some purer chest to close so pure a mind.
762 Frantic with grief, thus breathes she forth her spite
763 Against the unseen secrecy of night:
764 `O comfort-killing night, image of hell,
765 Dim register and notary of shame,
766 Black stage for tragedies and murders fell,
767 Vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!
768 Blind muffled bawd, dark harbour for defame,
769 Grim cave of death, whisp'ring conspirator
770 With close-tongued treason and the ravisher!
771 `O hateful, vaporous, and foggy night,
772 Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime,
773 Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light,
774 Make war against proportioned course of time.
775 Or if thou wilt permit the sun to climb
776 His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed
777 Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head.
778 `With rotten damps ravish the morning air,
779 Let their exhaled unwholesome breaths make sick
780 The life of purity, the supreme fair,
781 Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick;
782 And let thy musty vapours march so thick
783 That in their smoky ranks his smothered light
784 May set at noon, and make perpetual night.
785 `Were Tarquin night, as he is but night's child,
786 The silver-shining queen he would distain;
787 Her twinkling handmaids too, by him defiled,
788 Through night's black bosom should not peep again.
789 So should I have co-partners in my pain,
790 And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage,
791 As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage.
792 `Where now I have no one to blush with me,
793 To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine,
794 To mask their brows and hide their infamy,
795 But I alone, alone must sit and pine,
796 Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine,
797 Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
798 Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.
799 `O night, thou furnace of foul reeking smoke,
800 Let not the jealous day behold that face
801 Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak
802 Immodestly lies martyred with disgrace!
803 Keep still possession of thy gloomy place,
804 That all the faults which in thy reign are made
805 May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade.
806 `Make me not object to the tell-tale day:
807 The light will show charactered in my brow
808 The story of sweet chastity's decay,
809 The impious breach of holy wedlock vow.
810 Yea, the illiterate that know not how
811 To cipher what is writ in learne\d books
812 Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks.
813 `The nurse to still her child will tell my story,
814 And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name.
815 The orator to deck his oratory
816 Will couple my reproach to Tarquin's shame.
817 Feast-finding minstrels tuning my defame
818 Will tie the hearers to attend each line,
819 How Tarquin wronge\d me, I Collatine.
820 `Let my good name, that senseless reputation,
821 For Collatine's dear love be kept unspotted;
822 If that be made a theme for disputation,
823 The branches of another root are rotted,
824 And undeserved reproach to him allotted
825 That is as clear from this attaint of mine
826 As I ere this was pure to Collatine.
827 `O unseen shame, invisible disgrace!
828 O unfelt sore, crest-wounding private scar!
829 Reproach is stamped in Collatinus' face,
830 And Tarquin's eye may read the mot afar,
831 How he in peace is wounded, not in war.
832 Alas, how many bear such shameful blows,
833 Which not themselves but he that gives them knows!
834 `If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me,
835 From me by strong assault it is bereft;
836 My honey lost, and I, a drone-like bee,
837 Have no perfection of my summer left,
838 But robbed and ransacked by injurious theft.
839 In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath crept,
840 And sucked the honey which thy chaste bee kept.
841 `Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wrack;
842 Yet for thy honour did I entertain him.
843 Coming from thee, I could not put him back,
844 For it had been dishonour to disdain him.
845 Besides, of weariness he did complain him,
846 And talked of virtue_O unlooked-for evil,
847 When virtue is profaned in such a devil!
848 `Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud,
849 Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests,
850 Or toads infect fair founts with venom mud,
851 Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts,
852 Or kings be breakers of their own behests?
853 But no perfection is so absolute
854 That some impurity doth not pollute.
855 `The age\d man that coffers up his gold
856 Is plagued with cramps, and gouts, and painful fits,
857 And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold,
858 But like still-pining Tantalus he sits,
859 And useless barns the harvest of his wits,
860 Having no other pleasure of his gain
861 But torment that it cannot cure his pain.
862 `So then he hath it when he cannot use it,
863 And leaves it to be mastered by his young,
864 Who in their pride do presently abuse it.
865 Their father was too weak and they too strong
866 To hold their curse\d-blesse\d fortune long.
867 The sweets we wish for turn to loathe\d sours
868 Even in the moment that we call them ours.
869 `Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring,
870 Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers,
871 The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing,
872 What virtue breeds, iniquity devours.
873 We have no good that we can say is ours
874 But ill-annexe\d opportunity
875 Or kills his life or else his quality.
876 `O opportunity, thy guilt is great!
877 'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's treason;
878 Thou sets the wolf where he the lamb may get;
879 Whoever plots the sin, thou points the season.
880 'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason;
881 And in thy shady cell where none may spy him
882 Sits sin, to seize the souls that wander by him.
883 `Thou mak'st the vestal violate her oath,
884 Thou blow'st the fire when temperance is thawed,
