The ghost of Lucrece. By T.M. Gent

THE GHOST of Lucrece MEdeas Magicke , and Calipsoes drugges , Circes enchauntments , Hecates triforme Weanes my soule sucking at Reuenges dugges , To feed vpon the aire . What wind ? what storme Blew my disseuered limmes into this forme ? And from the Virgin-Paradise of death , Coniures my Ghost with poetizing breath ? The candle of my shame burnes in the skie , Set on the crosse-Poles of the firmament , To feare away diuine Virginitie , And light this world below , that being bent To follow me , they goe not as I went : But when I hope to see the candle waine , Then Tarquins spirit falls on the snuffe againe . So that the snuffe , ( the sauour of my shame , That stinckes before the throne of chastitie ) Is still rekindled with veneriall flame , To shew that Tarquins planet plants in me , The roote of fierie bloud , and luxurie : First forcing with his breath , one flames retire , Then takes my bloud for oyle , his lust , for fire . Now burnes the beacon of my soule , indeede , Too high for fame , but low enough for fume : Saints , keep your cloister-house , Vesta make speede , Take in thy flowers , for feare the fire consume Thy eternall-sweete-Virginitie-perfume : For Lust , and Bloud are mingled in one lampe , To seale my soule with Rape and Murders stampe . Before my shame , yon candle had no fire , Vestals nil feard me , the world saw me not , Shame was the tinder , and the flint desire That strucke in Tarquins bosome , and begot A childe of fire , a firebrand , and so hot , That it consumde my chastitie to dust , And on my heart painted the mouth of lust . Was I the cradle ? O my chastitie , To rocke and lull this bastard firebrand , N●rst with my bloud , we and with my tragedie , Fed at my kniues sharpe point vpon my hand , Borne and reborne , where ere my spirites stand ? I was the cradle● see the fie●…e dart , That burnes Dianaes temples in my heart . Behold this blade varnisht with bloud and teares , Bloud from my heart , teares from my stilling eies , Behold ( I say ) this knife , whereon appeares Vestaes Vermision melting from her skies , And teares of pearles in bloudy misteries ; This is the Tragicke knife , here you may see , Teares striue for fame , and bloud for chastitie . Right hand , thou act'st Reuenges hand aright : This knife and thou haue sworne to kisse my breast , Thou art my Vestaes antidote , to fright Lust from the bed of Colatinus rest : Performer of thy vow ( hand ) be thou blest . For thou in this hast showne me what thou art , Driuing the foe from scaling of my heart . Come spirit of fire , bred in a wombe of bloud , Forgd in a furnace by the Smith of hell , Begot and formed in that burning floud , Where Plutoes Phlegetonticke tennants dwell : And scalded spirits in their fiery cell , Breathes from their soule the flame of luxurie . From that luxurious clime I coniure thee . Now is my tyde of bloud : Come , quench thy soule , The sluces of my spirit now runs againe : Come , I haue made my breast an luorie bowle , To hold the bloud that streameth from my veyne , Drinke to my chastitie which thou hast slaine : " But ( woe the while ) that labour is in vaine . " To drinke to that which cannot pledge againe Quaffe thine owne fill , and let that lustfull flame : ( That circuits in the circle of thy spirite Pledge thy desire , carowsing off my shame , Which swimmes amidst my bloud , and doth inherite The portion of my soule without a merite : And if this spring of bloud cannot suffize , I le raine downe teares from my Elementall eies . Thou art my nurse-child , Tarquin : thou art he , In steede of milke , sucke bloud , and teares , and all , In liew of teats : Lucrece , thy nurse , euen she , By tragicke art seene through a Christall wall , Hath carued with her knife thy festiuall : Here 's bloud for milke , sucke till thy veines run ouer , And such a teat , which scarce thy mouth can couer . Tarquin the rauisher oh at that name See how mine eies dissolueth into teares . Tarquin the Roman : I describe my shame , Frorm Rome it came , a Romane name it beares . Tarquin my guest : lo , here began my feares : Tarquin from Ardea postes , hence sprang the fire , " For Ardeas name sounds ardent hot desire . Tarquin my kinsman : O Diuinitie , Where art thou fled ? hast thou for sooke thy sphaere ? Where 's Vertue , Knight-hood , and Nobilitie ? Faith ? Honor ? Pietie ? they should be neere , For kinsman sounds all these they are not here . Tarquin my kinsman : was it thou didst come , To sacke my Colatines Collatium ? Tarquin my kinsman , too vnkindly done , And by a kinsman too : my Ghost auers it , Doth therefore that same name of kinred run , To see their kin-redde , and with bloud prefers it ? " O enemie to faith , that still defers it . Had Tarquin neuer lustfull Tarquin beene , Lucrece the chaste should haue chaste Lucrece seene . Tarquin the Prince : had Rome no better heires , Thou mistris of the world no better men , Thou Prodigalitie of Natures faires , Are Tygers kings ? mak'st thou thy throne a den ? Thy siluer-glittering streames , blacke Lernaes fen ? Thy seauen hilles that should or'e looke thy euilles . Like seauen helles to nurse vp Roman diuelles . To thee , ( that makst the Moone thy looking glasse , To view thy triple crowne , and seauen-fold head ) To thee , I say , ( the Ghost of what I was ) Plaines mee and it , sith thou so long hast fed The rauisher , and starude the rauished . " If Vestaes lines were euer writ in thee , " Then weigh the blotting of those lines in mee . Tarquin the Prince : sham'st thou to heare thy name ? Rome , t is thy heire , sham'st thou to call him sonne ? Tarquin the Prince , lo I le repeate thy shame , A Roman heire , from him to thee I runne , I le shame you both before my shame be done : Tarquin the Prince , Tarquin the Roman heire , Thus wil I haunt , and hunt you to dispaire . Tarquin the traytor : bid my spirit rise , And call vp al the senses of my soule , " For treason should be guarded with more eies , Then was Ioues lo vnder his controule , " For treasons guile doth winne the traitors gole : Tarquin the traytor : watch when time 's in season , " For treason doth betray all things to treason . Tarquin the lecher : virgin chastitie , Melts at the heate of that luxurious word , ( Like maiden snow vpon a promontorie , Kissing the un her heauenly louely Lord , Then dies , and melts into a watry ford : ) So did my chastities-white-snow attire , Dissolue in bloud , at Tarquins lustfull fire . Tarquin the night-owle : Chastitie beware , Thou art beset with millions of deceits , Thy eies haue leaden liddes , they take no care , Thy senses rockt asleepe , and thy conceites Tempred with silence , feare nor snares , nor baites : Onely the vestall purenesse of thy soule , Bade me beware that Night-obseruing owle . Tarquin the Night-owle : in whose flaming eies , Lust and Desire banded their balles of bloud , Chasing my spirit with fiery misteries , Vnto the hazard where destruction stoode , Ready to strike my soule into a clowde : So when the Sunne had seene my vapour rise , Then with his beames to dash me from the skies . Tarquin the Night-owle : watch destruction , What ? hath the eies of Lust no Iiddes at all ? Or doe they houer for confusion , Answering in silence when affections call ? " When lust awakes , the eie liddes neuer fall : " But like a courser holding reasons raine , " Doth shut the eies , and opens them againe . Tarquin the Night-owle Vesta , looke about , The fourth allarum of my feares now rings , And yet the houre of dread is scarce runne out , For midnights face more force of terror brings , To thinke on that , my sinewes shake like strings : And chastitie which yet had spirit and breath , Lay quauering at my heart to tune her death . Tarquin the Night-owle : turne the glasse againe , Fiue times my tongue , the hammer of my soule , ( That beates vpon my breath , and strikes a straine , " Sounding all quauers , that s the song of dole : ) Fiue times my tongue did euen my tongue controule , " For feare is such a slaue , and coward elfe , " That fearing others , runnes and feares himselfe . Tarquin the Night-owle : Enter trecherie , Sextus Tarquinius , this sixt houre is thine , Farewell my life , farewell my chastitie , Farewel ( though not mine now ) that which was mine , Thy grapes are now deuour'd , alas poore vine : The Tyr-ant with his force of luxurie , Tires mean Ant , through imbecillitie . Now enters on the stage of Lucrece heart , Blacke appe●ites in flamde habiliments : When they haue acted all , then they depart . Rape entring next , armed in murders tents , Wrackes Vestaes tennants , and takes all her rents : " This shewes that Vestaes Deitie is poore , " She hath the stalke , but Ve●●… hath the store . This is the tragicke sceane : bleede hearts , weepe eies , Flie soule from bodie , spirit from my veines , Follow my chastitie where ere it lies , Which my vnhalowed body now refraines , Looke to the lampe of chastitie , it waines : The starre which guided all my elements , Pulls in her head , and leaues the firmaments . Rape in his pawes of bloud , and fangs of Lust , Hath stainde th' immaculate lillie of my field , And hath sepulchred in the shade of dust Dianaes milken robe , and Vestaes shield , " When Tygers prey , the seely lambes must yeeld : When Tarquin postes from Ardea , by and by Lucrece must loose her life and chastitie . O Colatine , where sleepes thy troubled spirite ? What new come Morpheus hath arrested thee ? Doth thy heart soundly sleepe ? doth nothingstirre it ? Deare Colatine , awake , wert thou with mee The arches of mine eies would waken thee For teares like waues rush at my eie liddes doore , Striuing together who should goe before . Come Colatine the foe hath sackt thy cittie , Collatium goes to wracke : come Colatine , Come Colatine , all pietie and pittie Is turnde to pettie treason : what is thine Is ceazde vppon long since : and what is mine " Carried away : true man thou sleepst at Rome , " Euen while a Roman theefe robs thee at home . Come Colatine , t is Lucrece bids thee come , Or shal I send my purseuant of grones Vnto prowde Rome from poore Collatium , To make all priuate means by publique mones , Discoursing my blacke storie to the stones ? Come Colatine , t is Tarquins dreadfull drum , That coniures me to call , and thee to come . Thy Lucrece bed , which had faire canopies Spangled with starres like to the firmament , And curtaines wrought with many deities , Resembling Ioues white lacteall element , Are stained now by lust and reuishment , The starres out starde , the deities defied , These I had storde , the other deified . The night before Tarquin and Lust came hither , ( Ill token for a chaste memoriall , ) My maides and I poore maide , did spin together , Like the three sisters , which the Fates we call , " And Fortune lent vs wheeles to turne withall ; Round goes our wheeles like worlds , on mine alone Stoode fortune reeling on a rowling stone . Yet was my heart so light , that still I said , Sing merrily my maides , our wheeles goe round , ( Who would not sing and spin , and be a maide , To serue so sweete a Goddesse , and be bound Apprentise , where such mistresses abound ? ) Sing merrily my maides ( againe she sayes , ) For Vesta is the Goddesse of our layes . Maidens , quoth I , but thinke what maidens be , " They are the verie string that ties their hearts , " The pillars of their soules pure puritie , " The distillations of th' essentiall parts , " Both good deseruers , and the good desarts : Then seeing Vesta hath so many trades , Go round our wheeles , sing merrily my maides . What nimble fingers hath Virginitie , To twist the thread , and turne the wheele about ? O Virgines , that same pearle of chastitie Shines like the Moone , to light your thoughts throughout , " Pure cogitations neuer harbours doubt , But like the fairest-purest chrisolite , Admits no bruise without a cracke with it . Spin merily my maiden-paradise , Thus with a merrie cheere I whirld their wheels , And made them rid at once more then at twice , " Such prettie pleasure true affection feeles , " That times olde head runnes swifter then his heeles : " For mirths fledg'd wings , are of so quicke a flight , " I hat maks the morn seem noon , the noon seem night My maides , those ayrie sinewes in your hands , Were of a finer thred then that you spinne , It was a merry age in golden bands , When Saturne sowed the earth , and did begin To teach bad husbands a new way to win : " Then was true labour exercisde and donne , " When gods did reele , what Goddesses had sponne . Those times are waxen balde , a prowder ayre Blowes in the heauen , and breathes vpon the earth , That age is out of date , another heyre Claimes his possession by an yron birth , And in an yron throne of death and dearth Rules this yong age , sucking vntill it whine , Euen at the dugges of Plutoes proserpine . Thus like Diana by a lillie fount , Sate I amidst my vestall elements , Thus did my selfe still with my selfe account , To free my thoughts from chained discontents And stirre vp mirth , the nurse of nourishments : Thus with a lightsome spirit and soules carouse , I like a huswife cherisht vp my house . When Roman dames tickled with pride and lust , Rauisht with amorous Philosophie , Printed the measures of their feete in dust , Tempring their bloud with Musickes harmonie , " ( The very Synode-house of Venerie ) Then I at home insteade of melodie , Grated my wheele vpon the axeltree . How like Arachne turned I my wheele ? Each of my maids how like a shepheardesse ? Had Colatine my shepheard held the reele , We foure might well haue made a country messe , " But one abroade , makes one at home the lesse : My Colatine my shepheard was at Rome , And left poore me to feede his flocke at home . Is Venus made a Laundresse to the Court ? Cupid her sonne elected for a page ? No maruaile if Dianaes starres doe sport With Venus planets vpon Cupids stage : " Yron must haue fire , this is an yron age : " Our soules like smithes with anuills of desire , " Beate on our flesh , and still we sparkle fire . The Princes Court is eu'n a firmament , All wrought with beames by day , and starres by night , The Prince himselfe the sunnie element , From whence all beames and starres do borow light , To paint their faces with a red and white : Those beames embassadors of his bright array , Those starres his counsellors by night and day . How comes it then ? speake , speake , Iniquitie , Thou blur of kingdomes , and thou blot of Kings , Thou Metamorphosis of puritie , That shap'st the greater things to lesser things , How comes it then , that Cupids bow-string swings About the heeles of time ? Iniquitie , It is the halter of thy luxurie . Thou hast burnt out the humour of thy bones , And made them powders of impietie , To strew about the earth as thicke as stones , Like wombes of lust , in toombes of lecherie , And all thy sinewes , O Iniquitie , Are so dried vp , and now so slender sponne , " That Venus makes them bow-strings for her sonne . Where is the spring of blouds virginitie , That wont to serue thy veines like conduit heads , And clense thy cesterne of iniquitie , With maiden-humours from chaste Floraes meads ? Then slepst thou like a Lorde , in Honors beds : Then Vertue was thy bedfellow , now know , " As great an ebbe followes as great a flow . Loe , vnder that base tipe of Tarquins name , I cypher figures of iniquitie , He writes himselfe the shamer , I the shame , The Actor hee , and I the tragedie , The stage am I , and he the historie : The subiect I , and he the rauisher , He murdring me , made me my murderer . O Lust , this pen of mine that writes thee lust , Lies blasted at the sulphure of thy fire , The quill and fethers burnt to ashie dust , Like dust and ashes flies before Desire , Vnable to endure thy flamd attire : " For in the skie of contrarietie , " The winners life is , when the loosers die . If l proceede : O fierie Incolants , Of that vast hell , which Pluto tearmes his haule , Tarquins companions , ye I say that haunts The bankes of burning baths , to you I call , Send me Prometheus heart t' endite withall : And from his vultures wings a pen of bloud , Thrice steept and dipt in Phlegetonticke floud . Then shall I stamp the figure of the night On Tarquins brow , and marke him for her sonne , The heire of darknesse , bastard of the light , The clowde of heauen , th'e clipser of the sunne , The staine in Vestaes cheekes , which first begunne In Tarquins flesh , begot of fiery dust . " O thou the hell of loue , vntutred Lust . " It bribes the flesh to warre against the spirit , " With tickling bloud mustring in euerie vaine , " It weanes the conscience from her heauenly merit , " Deprauing all chaste thoughts , her maiden traine , " It makes the heart thinke , and vnthinke againe : " It taints the breath with fire , the braine with bloud , " And sets a diuel where a God had stood . Beeing in the eie , Lust is a Cockatrice , " Hemlocke in taste , a canker in the thought , " And in the life a moth , which in a trice Consumes that treasure which so deare was bought , And cost so many dropps of bloud ( for nought ) So many streames of bloud , and baths of sweate , To bathe our spirites , and to quench our heate . O hell-eyde Lust , when I behold thy face Praefigured in my Ghost , drawne in my mind , I thinke of Sydons flowers that grow apace , And fauour thee by qualitie and kind , " They looke like faith before , and fame behind : But if thou sauour these well-fauoured euills , They haue the sight of gods , the sent of deuills . If I had like a curious herbalist , Measurde thy quantitie by qualitie , Or Esculapius-wise , on Reasons fist , Had planted vertue by the propertie , Or with the lapidaries policie " Made choice by insight , that s the note of wit , And not by outward hue to iudge of it , Then like that skilfull Esculapius , ( Setting apart the colour of deceit ) I might haue knowne Tarquin from Tyreus , And Lucrece bed from Philomelaes baite , Vesta concei●'d what Venus did conceit : But wanting Esculapius in my choice , I left sweete verdure for a flattering voice . " Did Beautie that same bauins blaze , incense thee ? " That flower of ●…me which buds with vanitie , " That string of fortunes wheel , which doth commence thee The graduate of hell borne iniquitie , Was beautie made the marke of luxurie ? Then heauens from henceforth let the world behold " Beautie in lead , deformitie in gold . Say Beauties beames dazled thy clowdie eies , " This Beautie hangs but at the heeles of time , And when times wings a loftier measure flies , Then Beautie like poore Iearus must clime , Or plunge into the puddle of her slime : " For Beauties limmes are of a waxen frame , " And melts like Icarus wings at euery flame . Sawst thou the colours which quaint Phydias drew , In dead-liue pictures with a touch of art . Such red and white hath Beautie being new , Made onely to amazeth ' amazers heart , Yet Phydias colours piercing like a dart Were staind with euery breath , and lost their prime , " So Beauties blot drops from the pen of time . But O my heauen , shall I forget thy spheres , O spheres of heauen , shall I let passe your skies ? O skies which weares out time , and neuer weares , Shall I make dim the tapers of your eies ? O eies of heauen , Sunne , Moone , and starres that rise To wake the day , and free imprisoned night , Shall my obliuious vapour clowde your light ? T' is thou ô chastitie , shall I sorsake thee , Or drowne thy memorie in my bloudy streame ? Remember ô my soule , did she not make thee Out of Dianaes ribbes ? did not that beame , ( Which glisters in thy spirit like Ioues-eie-gleame , ) Reflect from Vestaes face vpon thy heart , Like Phoebus brow the pride of heauens art . O thou that mak'st the Via Lactea whiter , " That virgin-gallery of maiesticke Ioue , " Faire Iunoes maze , to foote it , doth delight her , " The siluer path of heauen , and bath of loue , There sits the lambe , the swanne , the turtle doue , Ensignes of peace , of faith , and chastitie : " O siluer stage to golden harmonie . " That quire of saints in virgin-ornament , " Where Angells sing like queristers of heauen , " Where all the Martyrs kneele the element " Where Cynthiaes robe , and great Apolloes steauen , Hangs at the altar of this milken hauen : And to conclude , not able to begin , I write of that which flesh hath neuer seene . T was thou ô chastitie m'eternall eie , The want of thee made my ghost reele to hell , T was thou ô chastitie , that guild'st the skie With beames of vertue , it is thou dost dwell In that white-milken-christall-siluer cell : Thou laundresse to the gods and goddesses , Washing their soules in fonts of holinesse . O thou that deckst our Phoebus in the East , Circling his temples with spirituall beames , And guides his vestall chariot to the west , Through that pure christall tracke of lacteall streames , Siluering his wheeles with alablaster gleames , Then tempring the bright porphurie of his face , " With chaste Endimions blush , the die of grace . That doing dutie to his father Ioue Vpon his knee of fire , bids him arise , And blessing all his beames with kissing loue , Like a maiesticke father guilds his eies , To adde a rarer shine vnto the skies , Then takes his chariot with a brighter pride , And cries alowd , S. Vesta be my guide . S. Vesta , O thou sanctifying Saint , That lends a beame vnto the cleerest Sunne , Which els within his fiery course would faint , And end his race ere he had halfe begun , Making the world beleeue his power were done , His oyle burnt out , his lampe returnde to slime , His fires extinguishde by the breath of time . " O thou the pearle that hangs on Iunoes brow , " Like to the Moone the massie pearle of night , " Thou iewel in the eare of Ioue , to show The pride of loue , the puritie of light , " Thou Atlas of both worlds , vmpire of right : " Thou hauen of heauen , th' assigner of each signe , " Sanctities saint , Diuinities diuine . " O thou the siluer taper of the Moone , Set in an alablaster candlesticke , That by the bed of heauen at afternoone , Stands like a lillie ( which faire virgins picke , To match it with the lillie of their cheeke : " Thou lillie lambe , thou christall fether'd doue , That nestles in the pallace of thy Ioue . O touch my veins againe , thou bloud diuine , O feede my spirit thou foode angelicall , And all chaste functions with my soule combine . Colour my ghost with chastitie , whose All Feedes fat leane Death and time in generall : Come siluer doue , heauens alablaster nunne , I le hugge thee more then euer I haue donne . Lucrece , alas , thou picture of thy selfe , " Drawne poore and pale by that old painter time , " And ouerdasht by Death that meagre elfe , Which dries our element of bloud to thime , And tempreth our old ashes with new slime : Lucrece I say how canst thou Lucrece bee ? " Wanting a God to giue a life to thee . Bleede no more lines , ( my heart , ) this Knife , my pen , This bloud my incke , hath writ enough to Lust , " Tarquin , to thee thou very diuell of men I send these lines , thou art my fiend of trust , To thee I dedicate my toombe of dust : To thee I consecrate this little-Most , Writ by the bloudy fingers of my Ghost . This little scrole of fire ( that burnes my hand , In repetition of thy fiery name ) I fold vpon my heart ( my bloudy land ) And to thy ghost my ghost doth send the same , " Intituled , The lines of bloud and flame , " The Ghost of Lucrece , that s the Ghost of bloud , " The Ghost of Tarquin , that s the fiery floud . Now for thy title , and deserued stile , In dedication to thy worthinesse , " To thee the second of Cocytus I le , " Chiefe senior to the Phlegetonticke messe , " High steward vnto Plutoes holinesse : " Temprer of flames , the L. Tysiphonie , My bloudy fires begs patronage of thee . Now lacke I nothing but the post of hell , To flie like Vestaes arrow from my bow With these my red hot newes , and then to tell " How many times my heart did ebbe and flow , ( Like seas ) with teares aboue , and bloud below : And from poore Lucrece mouth tell Tarquin thus , That Philomel hath writ to Tyreus . Here stops the streame of tragicke bloud and fire , And now Melpomene hales my spirit in , The stage is downe , and Philomelaes quire Is husht from prick-song : Acherons bells begin To call our ghosts clad in the spirits of sin : Now Tyreus meets with rauishde Philomel , Lucrece with Tarquin ; in the haule of hell . FINIS .