205

"Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,
And be an eye-sore in my golden coat;
Some loathsome dash the herald 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. 10

"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?

214

For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crow11, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?

225

**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 forgo their light, my false heart bleed?

The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed;

And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, 230
But coward-like with trembling terror die.

"Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire,
Or lain 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;

235

But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend, The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.

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 remov-
ing.

Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw
Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe." 245

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 250
All pure effects, and doth so far proceed,
That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed.

"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;

270

Affection is my captain, and he leadeth;
And when his gaudy banner is display'd,
The coward fights, and will not be dismay'd.

Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating, die! Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age! 2:5 My heart shall never countermand mine eye. Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage; My part is youth, and beats these from the stage.

Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize;

Then who fears sinking where such treasure lies?"

As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear
Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust.
Away he steals with open list ning ear,
Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust;
Both which, as servitors to the unjust,

280

285

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;

290

But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, Which once corrupted takes the worser part;

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 thoughts might compass his fair

fair,

343

And they would stand auspicious to the hour. Even there he starts: quoth he, "I must deflower:

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 espi'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 eyeballs in his head.
By their high treason is his heart misled;
Which 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,
Coz'ning 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 entombed is: *
Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.

395

Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet; whose perfect white
Show'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 canopi'd in darkness sweetly lay,
Till they might open to adorn the day.

Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath;

O modest wantons! wanton modesty !
Showing life's triumph in the map of death,
And death's dim look in life's mortality.
Each in her sleep themselves so beautify,

400

As if between them twain there were no strife,

405

In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights.

His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,
Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!
May feel her heart-poor citizen!- dis-
tress'd,

465

Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall,
Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.
This moves in him more rage and lesser pity
To make the breach and enter this sweet city.

First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin 470
To sound a parley to his heartless foe;
Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin,
The reason of this rash alarm to know,
Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show;
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still 475
Under what colour he commits this ill.

even in my soul,

"I have debated, ev
What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall
breed;

But nothing can affection's course control, 800
Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.
I know repentant tears ensue the deed,

Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity;
Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy."

This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, sos
Which, like a falcon tow'ring in the skies,
Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade,
Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount, he
dies:

So under his insulting falchion lies

Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells 510 With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells.

While she, the picture of pure piety, Like a white hind under the gripe's sharp claws,

Pleads, in a wilderness where are no laws,

To the rough beast that knows no gentle right,

Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite.

But when a black-fac'd cloud the world doth threat,

In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, From earth's dark womb some gentle gust deth get,

Which blow these pitchy vapours from their biding,

Hind'ring their present fall by this dividing; So his unhallow'd haste her words delays. And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays

Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally, While in his hold-fast foot the weak motse panteth.

Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,
A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth
His ear her prayers admits, but his heart
granteth

No penetrable entrance to her plaining; Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.

Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed
In the remorseless wrinkles of his face;
Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed,
Which to her oratory adds more grace.
She puts the period often from his place;
And midst the sentence so her accent breaks.
That twice she doth begin ere once she
speaks.

She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's
oath;

By her untimely tears, her husband's love,
By holy human law, and common troth.
By heaven and earth, and all the power of

both,

That to his borrow'd bed he make retire, And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.

Quoth she, "Reward not hospitality
With such black payment as thou hast pre-
tended;

Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee;
Mar not the thing that cannot be amended;
End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended;
He is no woodman that doth bend his bow
To strike a poor unseasonable doe.

"My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare

me:

Thyself art mighty; for thine own sake leave

me:

Myself a weakling; do not then ensnare me: Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive

me.

My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave thee.

And, lo, there falls into thy boundless flood
Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning,
Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood.
If all these petty ills shall change thy good,
Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hearsed,
And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed.

"So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave;

Thon nobly base, they basely dignifi'd;
Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave;
Thou loathed in their shame, they in thy pride.
The lesser thing should not the greater hide;

The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot, But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root, ses "So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state,

"No more," quoth he; "by heaven, I will not hear thee.

Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate, Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear

thee;

That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee 670
Unto the base bed of some rascal groom,
To be thy partner in this shameful doom,"

This said, he sets his foot upon the light,
For light and lust are deadly enemies;
Shame folded up in blind concealing night, ers
When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize.
The wolf hath seiz'd his prey, the poor lamb
cries;

Till with her own white fleece her voice con

troll'd

Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold.