For that he colour'd with his high estate, more. 92 Those that much covet are with gain so fond, 96 140 The aim of all is but to nurse the life The death of all, and all together lost. So that in venturing ill we leave to be 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, Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, 161 Now stole upon the time the dead of night, 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, 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: 232 180 The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed; Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 187 191 'Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not Let fair humanity abhor the deed 196 'O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! 236 But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend, 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, 200 'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, 204 'What win I if I gain the thing I seek? 208 212 For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? down? 'If Collatinus dream of my intent, 217 220 Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear 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 This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch, catch: 360 Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. 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; Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let, soon, To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. Into the chamber wickedly he stalks, 368 Which gives the watchword to his hand full O! had they in that darksome prison died, And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight 384 Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting, 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; Where, like a virtuous monument she lies, Anon his beating heart, alarum striking, Gives the hot charge and bids them do their liking. 389 And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath; O modest wantons! wanton modesty! 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, What could he see but mightily he noted? 412 416 Imagine her as one in dead of night needfully Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking; 464 Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells. His hand, that yet remains upon her breast, 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, 1 First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin chin, 472 The reason of this rash alarm to know, 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. 'I see what crosses my attempt will bring; 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 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 |