O happiness enjoy'd but of a few!
And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done
As is the morning's silver-melting dew
Against the golden splendour of the sun;
An expir'd date, cancell'd ere well begun:
Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.

Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
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

29

32

Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown From thievish ears, because it is his own? Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty 36 Suggested this proud issue of a king; For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: Perchance that envy of so rich a thing, Braving compare, disdainfully did sting

40

This silent war of lilies and of roses,
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, 72
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, 76
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 show: 81
Therefore that praise which Collatine doth

His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt

owe

That golden hap which their superiors want.

But some untimely thought did instigate

This earthly saint, adored by this devil,

His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state,

For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on

Neglected all, with swift intent he goes

evil,

To quench the coal which in his liver glows.

O! rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold, Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows

old.

49

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 nooutward harmexpress'd:

88

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;

96

But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, That, cloy'd with much, he pineth still for

more.

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

140

144

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 oft that wealth doth
cost

The death of all, and all together lost.

So that in venturing 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

148

152

The thing we have: and, all for want of wit, Make something nothing by augmenting it.

116

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.'

187

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;
Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine:

191

Let fair humanity abhor the deed That spots and stains love's modest snowwhite weed.

196

'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, 204
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,

208

232

236

The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.

240

'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.' 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
All pure effects, and doth so far proceed,
That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed.
Quoth he, 'She took me kindly by the hand, 253
And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes,
Fearing some hard news from the war-like 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.

249

256

261

Forc'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, 264
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; 268
Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses;
Love thrives not in the heart that shadows

As corn o'ergrown 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; 284
Both which, as servitors to the unjust,

So cross him with their opposite persuasion,
That now he vows a league, and nowinvasion.
Within his thought her heavenly image sits, 288
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;

292 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 show, Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; 297 And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. By reprobate desire thus madly led,

300

The 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;

304

[there; Night-wandering weasels shriek to see him They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.

And they would stand auspicious to the hour, Even there he starts: quoth he, 'I must deflower; 348

The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact, How can they then assist me in the act?

352

'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 356 Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.'

316

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

320