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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.

92 Those that much covet are with gain so fond,
For what they have not, that which they possess
They scatter and unloose it from their bond, 136
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.

96

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140

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 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

144

148

152

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

Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express,

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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?

161

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;

164

Now serves the season that they may surprise The silly lambs; pure thoughts are dead and

still,

till

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.

173

His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, 176 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.'

232

180 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,
184 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:

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:

187

191

'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:

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

196

'O shame to knighthood and to shining arms!
O 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;

236

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

247

'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; 249 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. Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin 'And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd, To wish that I their father had not been.

Then my digression is so vile, so base,
That it will live engraven in my face.

200

'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,

'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?

208

212

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,

217

220

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, 225
When thou shalt charge me with so black a
deed?
[shake,
Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints
Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart

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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:

1 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, The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.

300

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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:

360

Thus treason works ere traitors be espied.
Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside;
But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such
thing,

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He in the worst sense construes their denial: 324 The door, 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. 329

soon,

To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon.

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;

368

Which gives the watchword to his hand full

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O! had they in that darksome prison died,
Then had they seen the period of their ill; 380
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 384

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Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans re
specting,

Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight. Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: 432

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 entombed is:

Where, like a virtuous monument she lies,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes. 392

Anon his beating heart, alarum striking, Gives the hot charge and bids them do their liking.

389

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And canopied 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

404

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,
408
Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred;
Who, like a foul usurper, went about
From this fair throne to heave the owner
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

412

416

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Imagine her as one in dead of night
From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking.
That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly
sprite,

needfully

Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking;
What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking, 453
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; 457
She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears
Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes:
Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries;
Who, angry that the eyes fly from their
lights,
[sights.
In darkness daunts them with more dreadful

464

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

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 withal. 'Lucrece,' quoth he, 'this night I must enjoy

thee:

512

This moves in him more rage, and lesser pity,

468

To make the breach and enter this sweet city.

If thou deny, then force must work my way,
For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee:
That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll
slay,

1

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

chin,

472

The reason of this rash alarm to know,
Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show;
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still
Under what colour he commits this ill. 476

Thus he replies: 'The colour in thy face, —

That even for anger makes the lily pale,

And the red rose blush at her own disgrace, Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale; 480 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: 484 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.

488

To kill thine honour with thy life's decay; 516 And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,

Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him.

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'I see what crosses my attempt will bring;
I know what thorns the growing rose defends;
I think the honey guarded with a sting;
All this, beforehand, counsel comprehends:
But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends;

For marks descried in men's nativity

493

Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.'

540

Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, 496 And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty.

'I have debated, even in my soul,

What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall

breed; But nothing can affection's course control, 500 Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. I know repentant tears ensue the deed,

Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye
He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause;
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.

544

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

In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, 504 From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth

Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity; Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.' This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, Which like a falcon towering 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

508

get,

549

Which blows these pitchy vapours from their
biding,
Hindering their present fall by this dividing;
So his unhallow'd haste her words delays, 552
And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays.

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