William Shakespeare

“ True grief is fond and testie as a child,
Who way-ward once, his mood with nought agrees,
Old woes, not infant sorrows bear them milde;
Continuance tames the one, the other wilde,
⁠Like an unpractiz'd swimmer plunging still,
⁠With too much labour drowns for want of skill.
So she deep drenched in a Sea of care,
Holds disputation with each thing she viewes,
And to her self all sorrow doth compare,
No object but her passions strength renews,
And as one shifts, another straight ensues,
⁠Sometime her grief is dumbe and hath no words,
⁠Sometime 'tis mad, and too much talk affords. ”

“ In vain (quoth she) I live, and seek in vain
Some happy meane to end a hapless life:
I feard by Tarquins fauchion to be slain,
Yet for the self-same purpose seek a knife,
But when I fear'd I was a loyal wife;
⁠So am I now; O no, that cannot be,
⁠Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me.
O that is gone for which I sought to live,
And therefore now I need not fear to die,
To clear this spot by death (at least) I give
A badge of fame to slaunders livery,
A dying life to living infamy,
⁠Poor helpless help the treasure stoln away,
⁠To burn the guiltless Casket where it lay. ”

“ So should my shame still rest upon record,
⁠And never be forgot in mighty Rome,
⁠Th' adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom.
Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak,
(And farre the weaker with so strong a fear)
My bloody Judge forbad my tongue to speak,
No rightful plea might plead for Justice there:
His scarlet lust came evidence to swear,
⁠That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes,
⁠And when the Judge is rob'd, the prisoner dies.
O teach me how to make mine own excuse,
Or (at the least) this refuge let me find ”

“ If thou surcease to be, that should survive:
Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger,
And leave the foultring feeble soules alive?
The old Bees die, the young possess their hive,
⁠Then live sweet Lucrece, live again, and see
⁠Thy father die, and not thy father thee.
By this starts Colatine as from a dreame,
And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place,
And then in key-cold Lucrece bleeding streame
He fals, and bathes the pale fear in his face,
And counterfeits to die with her a space.
⁠Till manly shame bids him possess his breath,
⁠And live, to be revenged on her death. ”

“ So ore this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,
His rage of lust by grazing qualified;
Slackt, not supprest, for standing by her side,
⁠His eye which late this mutiny restrains,
⁠Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins.
And they like stragling slaves for pillage fighting,
Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting;
In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor childrens tears, nor mothers groans respecting,
Swell in their pride the onset still expecting,
⁠Anon his beating heart alarum striking,
⁠Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking. ”

“ For light and lust are deadly enemies:
Shame folded up in blind concealing night,
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 controld,
⁠Intombs her outcry in her lips sweet fold:
For with the nightly linnen that she wears,
He pens her piteous clamors in her head,
Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears,
That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed.
O that foule lust should staine so pure a bed:
⁠The spots whereof could weeping purifie;
⁠Her teares should drop on them perpetually. ”

“ To check the teares in Colatinus eyes,
Thou wronged Lord of Rome, quoth he, arise.
⁠Let my unsounded self suppos'd a fool
⁠Now set thy long experienst wit to school.
Why Colatine, is woe the cure for woe;
Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous deeds?
Is it revenge to give thy self a blow
For his foul act, by whom thy fair wife bleeds? ”

“ Beauty it self doth of it self perswade
The eyes of men without an orator,
What needeth then apologies be made
To set forth that which is so singular?
Or why is Colatine the publisher
⁠Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown,
⁠From theevish ears because it is his own?
Perchance his boast of Lucrece Sov'rainty,
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
His high pitcht thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt
That golden hap which their superiors want. ”

“ I know what thornes the growing rose defends,
I think the hony guarded with a sting,
All this beforehand counsel comprehends;
But will is deafe, and heares no heedful friends.
⁠Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
⁠And dotes on what he lookes, 'gainst law or duty.
I have debated even in my soule,
What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed,
But nothing can affections course controle,
Or stop the headlong fury of his speed,
I know repentant tears ensue the deed,
⁠Reproch, disdaine, and deadly enmity,
⁠Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy. ”

“ This forced league doth force a further strife,
This momentary joy breeds moneths of pain,
This hot desire converts to cold disdain:
⁠Pure Chastity is rifled of her store,
⁠And lust, the thief, far poorer than before.
Look as the ful-fed hound or gorged Hawke,
Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight,
Make slow pursuit, or altogether bauke
The prey wherein by Nature they delight:
So surfet-taking Tarquin fares this night. ”

“ Great grief grieves most at that would do it good;
Deep woes roul forward like a gentle floud,
⁠Who being stopt, the bounding banks oreflows,
⁠Grief dallied with, nor law nor limit knows.
You mocking birds (quoth she) your tunes intomb
Within your hollow swelling feathered breasts,
And in my hearing be you ever dumb,
My restlesse discord loves no stops nor rests;
A woful hostesse brooks not merry guests:
⁠Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears,
⁠Distresse likes dumps when time is kept with tears. ”

“ No noise but Owles and Wolves death-boding cries:
Now serves the season that they may surprize
⁠The silly Lambs, pure thoughts are dead and still,
⁠While Lust and Murder wake to stain and kill.
3.Tarquin disputing the matter, at last resolves to satisfie his lust.
And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed,
Throwing his mantle rudely ore his arm,
Is madly tost between desire and dread;
Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm:
But honest fear, bewicht with lusts foul charm,
⁠Doth too too oft betake him to retire,
⁠Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. ”

“ With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night:
Now leaden slumber with lives strength doth fight,
⁠And every one to rest themselves betake,
⁠Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that wake.
As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining;
Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,
Tho weak-built hopes perswade him to abstaining,
Despair to gain doth traffique oft for gaining,
⁠And when great treasure is the meed proposed,
⁠Though death be adjunct, there's no death supposed. ”

“ And both she thinks too long with her remaining.
Short time seems long in sorrows sharp sustaining.
⁠Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps,
⁠And they that watch see time how slow it creeps.
Which all this time hath overslipt her thought,
That she with painted Images hath spent,
Being from the feeling of her own grief brought
By deep surmise of others detriment,
Losing her woes in shews of discontent:
⁠It easeth some, though none it ever cured,
⁠To think their dolour others have endured.
Upon Lucrece sending for Colatine in such haste, he with divers of his Allies and Friends returns home. ”

“ Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense,
⁠My self was stirring ere the break of day,
⁠And ere I rose was Tarquin gone away.
But Lady, if your maid may be so bold,
She would request to know your heaviness.
O peace (quoth Lucrece) 'if it should be told,
The repetition cannot make it lesse:
For more it is than I can well expresse,
⁠And that deep torture may be call'd a Hell,
⁠When more is felt than one hath power to tell. ”

“ Such shadows are the weak braines forgeries;
⁠Who angry that the eyes flie from their lights,
⁠In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights.
His hand that yet remaines upon her brest,
(Rude Ram to batter such an Ivory wall:)
May feele her heart (poor citizen) distrest,
Wounding it self to death, rise up and fall:
Beating her bulke, that his hand shakes withal. ”

“ Thy self art mighty, for thine own sake leave me:
My self a weakeling, do not then insnare me:
Thou look'st not like deceit, do not deceive me.
My sighs like whirlwinds labour hence to heave thee,
⁠If ever man was mov'd with woman's mones,
⁠Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my grones. ”

“ And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds,
And one mans lust these many lives confounds.
⁠Had doting Priam checkt his sons desire,
⁠Troy had bin bright with fame, and not with fire.
Here feelingly she weeps Troyes painted woes:
For sorrow like a heavy hanging bell,
Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes,
Then little strength rings out the doleful knell:
So Lucrece set awork, sad tales doth tell,
⁠To pencil'd pensiveness, and colour'd sorrow,
⁠She lends them words, and she their looks doth borrow. ”

“ The Orphan pines while the Oppressor feeds;
Justice is feasting while the widow weeps:
Advise is sporting while infection breeds,
Thou grant'st no time for charitable deeds:
⁠Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murther rages,
⁠Thy hainous hours wait on them as their pages.
When Truth and Vertue have to do with thee,
A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid;
They buy thy help, but Sin nere gives a fee
He gratis comes, and thou art well apaid,
As well to hear, as grant what he hath said.
⁠My Colatine would else have come to me:
⁠When Tarquin did, but he was staid by thee. ”

“ She thought he blusht, as knowing Tarquins lust,
And blushing with him, wistly on him gazed,
Her earnest eye did make him more amazed:
⁠The more saw the blood his cheeks replenish,
⁠The more she thought he spied in her some blemish.
But long she thinks till he return again,
And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone,
The weary time she cannot entertain,
For now 'tis stale to sigh, to weepe, to grone,
So woe hath wearied woe, mone tyred mone,
That she her plaints a little while doth stay,
⁠Pawsing for meanes to mourne some newer way. ”

“ Drunken desire must vomit his receit,
Ere he can see his own abomination.
While lust is in his pride, no exclamation
⁠Can curbe his heat, or rein his rash desire,
⁠Till like a jade, self-will himself doth tire. ”

“ Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hours blot:
⁠For markes descried in mens nativity,
⁠Are Natures faults, not their owne infamy.
Here with a Cockatrice dead killing eye,
He rowseth up himself, and makes a pause,
While she the picture of pure piety,
Like a white Hinde under the gripes sharp claws,
Pleads in a wilderness where are no lawes,
⁠To the rough beast, that knowes no gentle right,
⁠Nor ought obeyes but his foul appetite. ”

“ Retire again, till meeting greater ranks
⁠They join, and shoote their fome at Simois banks.
To this well painted piece is Lucrece come,
To find a face where all distress is steld;
Many she sees, where cares have carved some,
But none where all distresse and dolor dweld,
Till she despairing Hecuba beheld,
⁠Staring on Priams wounds with her old eyes,
⁠Which bleeding under Pyrrhus proud foot lies. ”

“ Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring,
Unwholsome weeds take root with precious flowers,
The Adder hisseth where the sweet birds sing,
What vertue breeds iniquity devours:
We have no good that we can say is ours ”

“ Tarquin welcomed by Lucrece. Tarquin overthrows all disputing with wilfulness. He puts bis resolution in practice. Lucrece awakes, and is amazed to he so surprized. She pleads in defence of Chastity. Tarquin all impatient, interrupteth her, and ravisheth her by force. Lucrece complains on her abuse. She disputeth whether she should kill her self or no. She is resolved on her self-murther, yet sendeth first for her Husband. Colatinus with his friends return home. Lucrece relateth the mischief; they swear revenge, and she to exasperate the matter, killeth her self. ”

“ 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 Peoples suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom; went accompanied with his sons, and other noble men of Rome to besiege Ardea: during which, the principal men of the Army meeting one evening at the Tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the kings son, in their discourses after supper, every one commended the vertues of his own wife ”

“ Her eyes like Marigolds had sheath'd their light,
⁠And canopied in darknesse sweetly lay,
⁠Till they might open to adorne the day. ”

“ So with her self is she in mutiny,
⁠To live or die which of the twain were better,
⁠When life is sham'd, and Death reproaches debter.
To kill my self, quoth she, alacke what were it,
But with my body my poore souls pollution?
They that lose halfe with greater patience bear it,
Than they whose whole is swallowed in confusion.
That mother tries a mercilesse conclusion,
⁠Who having two sweet babes, when death takes one,
⁠Will slay the other, and be nurse to none. ”