Lucrece

THE RAPE OF LVCRECE . FROM the besieged Ardea all in post , Borne by the trustlesse wings of false desire , Lust-breathed TARQVIN , leaues the Roman host , And to Colatium beares the lightlesse fire , Which in pale embers hid , lurkes to aspire , And girdle with embracing flames , the wast Of COLATINES fair loue , LVCRECE the chast . Hap'ly that name of chast , vnhap'ly set This batelesse edge on his keene appetite : When COLATINE vnwisely did not let , To praise the cleare vnmatched red and white , Which triumpht in that skie of his delight : Where mortal stars as bright as heauens Beauties , With pure aspects did him peculiar dueties . For he the night before in Tarquins Tent , Vnlockt the treasure of his happie state : What priselesse wealth the heauens had him lent , In the possession of his beauteous mate . Reckning his fortune at such high proud rate , That Kings might be espowsed to more fame , But King nor Peere to such a peerelesse dame . O happinesse enioy'd but of a few , And if possest as soone decayed and done : As is the mornings siluer melting dew , Against the golden splendour of the Sunne . An expir'd date canceld ere well begunne . Honour and Beautie in the owners armes , Are weakelie fortrest from a world of harmes . Beautie it selfe doth of it selfe perswade , The eies of men without an Orator , What needeth then Apologies be made To set forth that which is so singuler ? Or why is Colatine the publisher Of that rich iewell he should keepe vnknown , From theeuish eares because it is his owne ? Perchance his bost of Lucrece Sou'raigntie , Suggested this proud issue of a King : For by our eares our hearts oft taynted be : Perchance that enuie of so rich a thing Brauing compare , disdainefully did sting His high picht thoughts that meaner men should vant , That golden hap which their superiors want . But some vntimelie thought did instigate , His all too timelesse speede if none of those , His honor , his affaires , his friends , his state , Neglected all , with swift intent he goes , To quench the coale which in his liuer glowes . O rash false heate , wrapt in repentant cold , Thy hastie spring still blasts and nere growes old . When at Colatia this false Lord arriued , Well was he welcom'd by the Romaine dame , Within whose face Beautie and Vertue striued , Which of them both should vnder prop her fame . When Vertue brag'd , Beautie wold blush for shame , When Beautie bosted blushes , in despight Vertue would staine that ore with siluer white . But Beautie in that white entituled , From Venus doues doth challenge that faire field , Then Vertue claimes from Beautie , Beauties red , Which Vertue gaue the golden age , to guild Their siluer cheekes , and cald it then their shield , Teaching them thus to vse it in the fight , When shame assaild , the red should fence the white . This Herauldry in LVCRECE face was seene , Argued by Beauties red and Vertues white , Of eithers colour was the other Queene : Prouing from worlds minority their right , Yet their ambition makes them still to fight : The soueraignty of either being so great , That oft they interchange ech others seat . This silent warre of Lillies and of Roses , Which TARQVIN vew'd in her faire faces field , In their pure rankes his traytor eye encloses , Where least betweene them both it should be kild . The coward captiue vanquished , doth yeeld To those two Armies that would let him goe , Rather then triumph in so false a foe . Now thinkes he that her husbands shallow tongue , The niggard prodigall that praisde her so : In that high taske hath done her Beauty wrong . Which farre exceedes his barren skill to show . Therefore that praise which COLATINE doth owe , Inchaunted TARQVIN aunswers with surmise , In silent wonder of still gazing eyes . This earthly sainct adored by this deuill , Little suspecteth the false worshipper : " For vnstaind thoughts do seldom dream on euill . " Birds neuer lim'd , no secret bushes feare : So guiltlesse shee securely giues good cheare , And reuerend welcome to her princely guest , Whose inward ill no outward harme exprest . For that he colourd with his high estate , Hiding base sin in pleats of Maiestie : That nothing in him seemd inordinate , Saue sometime too much wonder of his eye , Which hauing all , all could not satisfie ; But poorly rich so wanteth in his store , That cloy'd with much , he pineth still for more . But she that neuer cop't with straunger eies , Could picke no meaning from their parling lookes , Nor read the subtle shining secrecies , Writ in the glassie margents of such bookes , Shee toucht no vnknown baits , nor feard no hooks , Nor could shee moralize his wanton sight , More then his eies were opend to the light . He stories to her eares her husbands fame , Wonne in the fields of fruitfull Italie : And decks with praises Colatines high name , Made glorious by his manlie chiualrie , With bruised armes and wreathes of victorie , Her ioie with heaued-vp hand she doth expresse , And wordlesse so greetes heauen for his successe . Far from the purpose of his comming thither , He makes excuses for his being there , No clowdie show of stormie blustring wether , Doth yet in his faire welkin once appeare , Till sable Night mother of dread and feare , Vppon the world dim darknesse doth displaie , And in her vaultie prison , stowes the daie . For then is Tarquine brought vnto his bed , Intending wearinesse with heauie sprite : For after supper long he questioned , With modest Lucrece , and wore out the night , Now leaden slumber with liues strength doth fight , And euerie one to rest themselues betake , Saue theeues , and cares , and troubled minds that wake . As one of which doth Tarquin lie reuoluing The sundrie dangers of his wils obtaining : Yet euer to obtaine his will resoluing . Though weake-built hopes perswade him to abstaining Dispaire to gaine doth traffique oft for gaining , And when great treasure is the meede proposed , Though death be adiunct , ther 's no death supposed . Those that much couet are with gaine so fond , That what they haue not , that which they possesse They scatter and vnloose it from their bond , And so by hoping more they haue but lesse , Or gaining more , the profite of excesse Is but to surfet , and such griefes sustaine , That they proue banckrout in this poore rich gain . The ayme of all is but to nourse the life , With honor , wealth , and ease in wainyng age : And in this ayme there is such thwarting strife , That one for all , or all for one we gage : As life for honour , in fell battailes rage , Honor for wealth , and oft that wealth doth cost The death of all , and altogether lost . So that in ventring ill , we leaue to be The things we are , for that which we expect : And this ambitious foule infirmitie , In hauing much torments vs with defect Of that we haue : so then we doe neglect The thing we haue , and all for want of wit , Make something nothing , by augmenting it . Such hazard now must doting TARQVIN make , Pawning his honor to obtaine his lust , And for himselfe , himselfe he must forsake . Then where is truth if there be no selfe-trust ? When shall he thinke to find a stranger iust , When he himselfe , himselfe confounds , betraies To sclandrous tongues & wretched hateful daies ? Now stole vppon the time the dead of night , When heauie sleeep had closd vp mortall eyes , No comfortable starre did lend his light , No noise but Owles , & wolues death-boding cries : Now serues the season that they may surprise The sillie Lambes , pure thoughts are dead & still , While Lust and Murder wakes to staine and kill . And now this lustfull Lord leapt from his bed , Throwing his mantle rudely ore his arme , Is madly tost betweene desire and dred ; Th' one sweetely flatters , th' other feareth harme , But honest feare , bewicht with lustes foule charme , Doth too too oft betake him to retire , Beaten away by brainesicke rude desire . His Faulchon on a flint he softly smiteth , That from the could stone sparkes of fire doe flie , Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth , Which must be lodestarre to his lustfull eye . And to the flame thus speakes aduisedlie ; As from this cold flint I enforst this fire , So LVCRECE must I force to my desire . Here pale with feare he doth premeditate , The daungers of his lothsome 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 slaughtered lust , And iustly thus controlls his thoughts vniust . Faire torch burne out thy light , and lend it not To darken her whose light excelleth thine : And die vnhallowed thoughts , before you blot With your vncleannesse , that which is deuine : Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine : Let faire humanitie abhor the deede , That spots & stains loues modest snow-white weed . O shame to knighthood , and to shining Armes , O foule dishonor to my houshoulds graue : O impious act including all foule harmes . A martiall man to be soft fancies slaue , True valour still a true respect should haue , Then my digression is so vile , so base , That it will liue engrauen in my face . Yea though I die the scandale will suruiue , And be an eie-sore in my golden coate : Some lothsome dash the Herrald will contriue , To cipher me how fondlie I did dote : That my posteritie sham'd with the note Shall curse my bones , and hold it for no sinne , To wish that I their father had not beene . What win I if I gaine the thing I seeke ? A dreame , a breath , a froth of fleeting ioy , Who buies a minutes mirth to waile a weeke ? Or sels eternitie to get a toy ? For one sweete grape who will the vine destroy ? Or what fond begger , but to touch the crowne , Would with the scepter straight be stroken down ? If COLATINVS dreame of my intent , Will he not wake , and in a desp'rate rage Post hither , this vile purpose to preuent ? This siege that hath ingirt his marriage , This blur to youth , this sorrow to the sage , This dying vertue , this suruiuing shame , Whose crime will beare an euer-during blame . O what excuse can my inuention make When thou shalt charge me with so blacke a deed ? Wil not my tongue be mute , my fraile ioints shake ? Mine eies forgo their light , my false hart bleede ? The guilt beeing great , the feare doth still exceede ; And extreme feare can neither fight nor flie , But cowardlike with trembling terror die . Had COLATINVS kild my sonne or sire , Or laine in ambush to betray my life , Or were he not my deare friend , this desire Might haue excuse to worke vppon his wife : As in reuenge or quittall of such strife . But as he is my kinsman , my deare friend , The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end . Shamefull it is : I , if the fact be knowne , Hatefull it is : there is no hate in louing , He beg her loue : but she is not her owne : The worst is but deniall and reproouing . My will is strong past reasons weake remoouing : Who feares a sentence or an old mans saw , Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe . Thus gracelesse holds he disputation , Tweene frozen conscience and hot burning will , And with good thoughts makes dispensation , Vrging the worser sence for vantage still . Which in a moment doth confound and kill All pure effects , and doth so farre proceede , That what is vile , shewes like a vertuous deede . Quoth he , shee tooke me kindlie by the hand , And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes , Fearing some hard newes from the warlike band , Where her beloued COLATINVS lies . O how her feare did make her colour rise ! First red as Roses that on Lawne we laie , Then white as Lawne the Roses tooke awaie . And how her hand in my hand being lockt , Forst it to tremble with her loyall feare : Which strooke her sad , and then it faster rockt , Vntill her husbands welfare shee did heare . Whereat shee smiled with so sweete a cheare , That had NARCISSVS seene her as shee stood , Selfe-loue had neuer drown'd him in the flood . Why hunt I then for colour or excuses ? All Orators are dumbe when Beautie pleadeth , Poore wretches haue remorse in poore abuses , Loue thriues not in the hart that shadows dreadeth , Affection is my Captaine and he leadeth . And when his gaudie banner is displaide , The coward fights , and will not be dismaide . Then childish feare auaunt , debating die , Respect and reason waite on wrinckled age : My heart shall neuer countermand mine eie ; Sad pause , and deepe regard beseemes the sage , My part is youth and beates these from the stage . Desire my Pilot is , Beautie my prise , Then who feares sinking where such treasure lies ? As corne ore-growne by weedes : so heedfull feare Is almost choakt by vnresisted lust : Away he steales with open listning eare , Full of foule hope , and full of fond mistrust : Both which as seruitors to the vniust , So crosse him with their opposit perswasion , That now he vowes a league , and now inuasion . Within his thought her heauenly image sits , And in the selfe same seat sits COLATINE , That eye which lookes on her confounds his wits , That eye which him beholdes , as more deuine , Vnto a view so false will not incline ; But with a pure appeale seekes to the heart , Which once corrupted takes the worser part . And therein heartens vp his seruile powers , Who flattred by their leaders iocound show , Stuffe vp his lust : as minutes fill vp howres . And as their Captaine : so their pride doth grow , Paying more slauish tribute then they owe . By reprobate desire thus madly led , The Romane Lord marcheth to LVCRECE bed . The lockes betweene her chamber and his will , Ech one by him inforst retires his ward : But as they open they all rate his ill , Which driues the creeping theefe to some regard , The threshold grates the doore to haue him heard , Night wandring weezels shreek to see him there , They fright him , yet he still pursues his feare . As each vnwilling portall yeelds him way , Through little vents and cranies of the place , The wind warres with his torch , to make him staie , And blowes the smoake of it into his face , Extinguishing his conduct in this case . But his hot heart , which fond desire doth scorch , Puffes forth another wind that fires the torch . And being lighted , by the light he spies LVCRECIAS gloue , wherein her needle sticks , He takes it from the rushes where it lies , And griping it , the needle his finger pricks . As who should say , this gloue to wanton trickes Is not inur'd ; returne againe in hast , Thouseest our mistresse ornaments are chast . But all these poore forbiddings could not stay him , He in the worst sence consters their deniall : The dores , the wind , the gloue that did delay him , He takes for accidentall things of triall . Or as those bars which stop the hourely diall , Who with a lingring staie his course doth let , Till euerie minute payes the howre his debt . So so , quoth he , these lets attend the time , Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring , To ad a more reioysing to the prime , And giue the sneaped birds more cause to sing . Pain payes the income of ech precious thing , Huge rocks , high winds , strong pirats , shelues and sands The marchant feares , ere rich at home he lands . Now is he come vnto the chamber dore , That shuts him from the Heauen of his thought , Which with a yeelding latch , and with no more , Hath bard him from the blessed thing he sought . So from himselfe impiety hath wrought , That for his pray to pray he doth begin , As if the Heauens should countenance his sin . But in the midst of his vnfruitfull prayer , Hauing solicited th' eternall power , That his foule thoughts might compasse his fair faire , And they would stand auspicious to the howre . Euen there he starts , quoth he , I must deflowre ; The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact , How can they then assist me in the act ? Then Loue and Fortune by my Gods , my guide , My will is backt with resolution : Thoughts are but dreames till their effects be tried , The blackest sinne is clear'd with absolution . Against loues fire , feares frost hath dissolution . The eye of Heauen is out , and mistie night Couers the shame that followes sweet delight . This said , his guiltie hand pluckt vp the latch , And with his knee the dore he opens wide , The doue sleeps fast that this night Owle will catch . Thus treason workes ere traitors be espied . Who sees the lurking serpent steppes aside ; But shee sound sleeping fearing no such thing , Lies at the mercie of his mortall sting . Into the chamber wickedlie he stalkes , And gazeth on her yet vnstained bed : The curtaines being close , about he walkes , Rowling his greedie eye-bals in his head . By their high treason is his heart mis-led , Which giues the watch-word to his hand ful soon , To draw the clowd that hides the siluer Moon . Looke as the faire and fierie pointed Sunne , Rushing from forth a cloud , bereaues our sight : Euen so the Curtaine drawne , his eyes begun To winke , being blinded with a greater light . Whether it is that shee reflects so bright , That dazleth them , or else some shame supposed , But blind they are , and keep themselues inclosed . O had they in that darkesome prison died , Then had they seene the period of their ill : Then COLATINE againe by LVCRECE side , In his cleare bed might haue reposed still . But they must ope this blessed league to kill , And holie-thoughted LVCRECE to their sight , Must sell her ioy , her life , her worlds delight . Her lillie hand , her rosie cheeke lies vnder , Coosning the pillow of a lawfull kisse : Who therefore angrie seemes to part in sunder , Swelling on either side to want his blisse . Betweene whose hils her head intombed is ; Where like a vertuous Monument shee lies , To be admir'd of lewd vnhallowed eyes . Without the bed her other faire hand was , On the greene couerlet whose perfect white Showed like an Aprill dazie on the grasse , With perlie swet resembling dew of night . Her eyes like Marigolds had sheath'd their light , And canopied in darkenesse sweetly lay , Till they might open to adorne the day . Her haire like golden threeds playd with her breath , O modest wantons , wanton modestie ! Showing lifes triumph in the map of death , And deaths dim looke in lifes mortalitie . Ech in her sleepe themselues so beautifie , As if betweene them twaine there were no strife , But that life liu'd in death , and death in life . Her breasts like Iuory globes circled with blew , A paire of maiden worlds vnconquered , Saue of their Lord , no bearing yoke they knew , And him by oath they truely honored . These worlds in TARQVIN new ambition bred , Who like a fowle vsurper went about , From this faire throne to heaue the owner out . What could he see but mightily he noted ? What did he note , but strongly he desired ? What he beheld , on that he firmely doted , And in his will his wilfull eye he tyred . With more then admiration he admired Her azure vaines , her alablaster skinne , Her corall lips , her snow-white dimpled chin . As the grim Lion fawneth ore his pray , Sharpe hunger by the conquest satisfied : So ore this sleeping soule doth TARQVIN stay , His rage of lust by gazing qualified ; Slakt , not supprest , for standing by her side , His eye which late this mutiny restraines , Vnto a greater vprore tempts his vaines . And they like stragling slaues for pillage fighting , Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting , In bloudy death and rauishment delighting ; Nor childrens tears nor mothers grones respecting , Swell in their pride , the onset still expecting : Anon his beating heart allarum striking , Giues the hot charge , & bids them do their liking . His drumming heart cheares vp his burning eye , His eye commends the leading to his hand ; His hand as proud of such a dignitie , Smoaking with pride , marcht on , to make his stand On her bare brest , the heart of all her land ; Whose ranks of blew vains as his hand did scale . Left their round turrets destitute and pale . They mustring to the quiet Cabinet , Where their deare gouernesse and ladie lies , Do tell her shee is dreadfullie beset , And fright her with confusion of their cries . Shee much amaz'd breakes ope her lockt vp eyes , Who peeping foorth this tumult to behold , Are by his flaming torch dim'd and controld . Imagine her as one in dead of night , From forth dull sleepe by dreadfull fancie waking , That thinkes shee hath beheld some gastlie sprite , Whose grim aspect sets euerie ioint a shaking , What terror t is : but shee in worser taking , From sleepe disturbed , heedfullie doth view The sight which makes supposed terror trew . Wrapt and confounded in a thousand feares , Like to a new-kild bird shee trembling lies : Shee dares not looke , yet winking there appeares Quicke-shifting Antiques vglie in her eyes . " Such shadowes are the weake-brains forgeries , Who angrie that the eyes flie from their lights , In darknes daunts them with more dreadfull sights . His hand that yet remaines vppon her brest , ( Rude Ram to batter such an Iuorie wall : ) May feele her heart ( poore Cittizen ) distrest , Wounding it selfe to death , rise vp and fall ; Beating her bulke , that his hand shakes withall . This moues in him more rage and lesser pittie , To make the breach and enter this sweet Citty . First like a Trompet doth his tongue begin , To sound a parlie to his heartlesse foe , Who ore the white sheet peers her whiter chin , The reason of this rash allarme to know , Which he by dum demeanor seekes to show . But shee with vehement prayers vrgethstill , Vnder what colour he commits this ill . Thus he replies , the colour in thy face , That euen for anger makes the Lilly pale , And the red rose blush at her owne disgrace , Shall plead for me and tell my louing tale . Vnder that colour am I come to scale Thy neuer conquered Fort , the fault is thine , For those thine eyes betray thee vnto mine . Thus I forestall thee , if thou meane to chide , Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night , Where thou with patience must my will abide , My will that markes thee for my earths delight , Which I to conquer sought with all my might . But as reproofe and reason beat it dead , By thy bright beautie was it newlie bred . I see what crosses my attempt will bring , I know what thornes the growing rose defends , I thinke the honie garded with a sting , All this before-hand counsell comprehends . But Will is deafe , and hears no heedfull friends , Onely he hath an eye to gaze on Beautie , And dotes on what he looks , gainst law or duety . I haue debated euen in my soule , What wrong , what shame , what sorrow I shal breed , But nothing can affections course controull , Or stop the headlong furie of his speed . I know repentant teares insewe the deed , Reproch , disdaine , and deadly enmity , Yet striue I to embrace mine infamy . This said , hee shakes aloft his Romaine blade , Which like a Faulcon towring in the skies , Cowcheth the fowle below with his wings shade , Whose crooked beake threats , if he mount he dies . So vnder his insulting Fauchion lies Harmelesse LVCRETIA marking what he tels , With trembling feare : as fowl hear Faulcons bels . LVCRECE , quoth he , this night I must enioy thee , If thou deny , then force must worke my way : For in thy bed I purpose to destroie thee . That done , some worthlesse slaue of thine i le slay . To kill thine Honour with thy liues decaie . And in thy dead armes do I meane to place him , Swearing I slue him seeing thee imbrace him . So thy suruiuing husband shall remaine The scornefull marke of euerie open eye , Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdaine , Thy issue blur'd with namelesse bastardie ; And thou the author of their obloquie , Shalt haue thy trespasse cited vp in rimes , And sung by children in succeeding times . But if thou yeeld , I rest thy secret friend , The fault vnknowne , is as a thought vnacted , " A little harme done to a great good end , For lawfull pollicie remaines enacted . " The poysonous simple sometime is compacted In a pure compound ; being so applied , His venome in effect is purified . Then for thy husband and thy childrens sake , Tender my suite , bequeath not to their lot The shame that from them no deuise can take , The blemish that will neuer be forgot : Worse then a slauish wipe , or birth howrs blot , For markes discried in mens natiuitie , Are natures faultes , not their owne infamie . Here with a Cockeatrice dead killing eye , He rowseth vp himselfe , and makes a pause , While shee the picture of pure pietie , Like a white Hinde vnder the grypes sharpe clawes , Pleades in a wildernesse where are no lawes , To the rough beast , that knowes no gentle right , Nor ought obayes but his fowle appetite . But when a black-fac'd clowd the world doth thret , In his dim mist th' aspiring mountaines hiding : From earths dark-womb , some gentle gust doth get , Which blow these pitchie vapours from their biding : Hindring their present fall by this deuiding . So his vnhallowed hast her words delayes , And moodie PLVTO winks while Orpheus playes . Yet fowle night-waking Cat he doth but dallie , While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth , Her sad behauiour feedes his vulture follie , A swallowing gulfe that euen in plentie wanteth . His eare her prayers admits , but his heart granteth No penetrable entrance to her playning , " Tears harden lust though marble were with rayning . Her pittie-pleading eyes are sadlie fixed In the remorselesse wrinckles of his face . Her modest eloquence with sighes is mixed , Which to her Oratorie addes more grace . Shee puts the period often from his place , And midst the sentence so her accent breakes , That twise she doth begin ere once she speakes . She coniures him by high Almightie Ioue , By knighthood , gentrie , and sweete friendships oth , By her vntimely teares , her husbands loue , By holie humaine law , and common troth , By Heauen and Earth , and all the power of both : That to his borrowed bed he make retire , And stoope to Honor , not to fowle desire . Quoth shee , reward not Hospitalitie , With such black payment , as thou hast pretended , Mudde not the fountaine that gaue drinke to thee , Mar not the thing that cannot be amended . End thy ill ayme , before thy shoote be ended . He is no wood-man that doth bend his bow , To strike a poore vnseasonable Doe . My husband is thy friend , for his sake spare me , Thy selfe art mightie , for thine own sake leaue me : My selfe a weakling , do not then insnare me . Thou look'st not like deceipt , do not deceiue me . My sighes like whirlewindes labor hence to heaue thee . If euer man were mou'd with womans mones , Be moued with my teares , my sighes , my grones . All which together like a troubled Ocean , Beat at thy rockie , and wracke-threatning heart , To soften it with their continuall motion : For stones dissolu'd to water do conuert . O if no harder then a stone thou art , Melt at my teares and be compassionate , Soft pittie enters at an iron gate . In TARQVINS likenesse I did entertaine thee , Hast thou put on his shape , to do him shame ? To all the Host of Heauen I complaine me . Thou wrongst his honor , woundst his princely name : Thou art not what thou seem'st , and if the same , Thou seem'st not what thou art , a God , a King ; For kings like Gods should gouerne euery thing . How wi●l thy shame be seeded in thine age When thus thy vices bud before thy spring ? If in thy hope thou darst do such outrage , What dar'st thou not when once thou art a King ? O be remembred , no outragious thing From vassall actors can be wipt away , Then Kings misdeedes cannot be hid in clay . This deede will make thee only lou'd for feare , But happie Monarchs still are feard for loue : With fowle offendors thou perforce must beare , When they in thee the like offences proue ; If but for feare of this , thy will remoue . For Princes are the glasse , the schoole , the booke , Where subiects eies do learn , do read , do looke . And wilt thou be the schoole where lust shall learne ? Must he in thee read lectures of such shame ? Wilt thou be glasse wherein it shall discerne Authoritie for sinne , warrant for blame ? To priuiledge dishonor in thy name . Thou backst reproch against long-liuing lawd , And mak'st faire reputation but a bawd . Hast thou commaund ? by him that gaue it thee From a pure heart commaund thy rebell will : Draw not thy sword to gard iniquitie , For it was lent thee all that broode to kill . Thy Princelie office how canst thou fulfill ? When patternd by thy fault fowle sin may say , He learnd to sin , and thou didst teach the way . Thinke but how vile a spectacle it were , To view thy present trespasse in another : Mens faults do seldome to themselues appeare , Their own transgressions partiallie they smother , This guilt would seem death-worthie in thy brother . O how are they wrapt in with infamies , That from their own misdeeds askaunce their eyes ? To thee , to thee , my heau'd vp hands appeale , Not to seducing lust thy rash relier : I sue for exil'd maiesties repeale , Let him returne , and flattring thoughts retire . His true respect will prison false desire , And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eien , That thou shalt see thy state , and pittie mine . Haue done , quoth he , my vncontrolled tide Turnes not , but swels the higher by this let . Small lightes are soone blown out , huge fires abide , And with the winde in greater furie fret : The petty streames that paie a dailie det To their salt soueraigne with their fresh fals hast , Adde to his flowe , but alter not his tast . Thou art , quoth shee , a sea , a soueraigne King , And loe there fals into thy boundlesse flood , Blacke lust , dishonor , shame , mis-gouerning , Who seeke to staine the Ocean of thy blood . If all these pettie ils shall change thy good , Thy sea within a puddels wombe is hersed , And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed . So shall these slaues be King , and thou their slaue , Thou noblie base , they baselic dignified : Thou their faire life , and they thy fowler graue : Thou lothed in their shame , they in thy pride , The lesser thing should not the greater hide . The Cedar stoopes not to the base shrubs foote , But low-shrubs wither at the Cedars roote . So let thy thoughts low vassals to thy state , No more quoth he , by Heauen I will not heare thee . Yeeld to my loue , if not inforced hate , In steed of loues coy tutch shall rudelie teare thee . That done , despitefullie I meane to beare thee Vnto the base bed of some rascall groome , To be thy partner in this shamefull doome . This said , he sets his foote vppon the light , For light and lust are deadlie enemies , Shame folded vp in blind concealing night , When most vnseene , then most doth tyrannize . The wolfe hath ceazd his pray , the poor lamb cries , Till with her own white fleece her voice controld , Intombes her outcrie in her lips sweet fold . For with the nightlie linnen that shee weares , He pens her piteous clamors in her head , Cooling his hot face in the chastest teares , That euer modest eyes with sorrow shed . O that prone lust should staine so pure a bed , The spots whereof could weeping purifie , Her tears should drop on them perpetuallie . But shee hath lost a dearer thing then life , And he hath wonne what he would loose againe , This forced league doth force a further strife , This momentarie ioy breeds months of paine , This hot desire conuerts to colde disdaine ; Pure chastitie is rifled of her store , And lust the theefe farre poorer then before . Looke as the full-fed Hound , or gorged Hawke , Vnapt for tender smell , or speedie flight , Make slow pursuite , or altogether bauk , The praie wherein by nature they delight : So surfet-taking TARQVIN fares this night : His tast delicious , in digestion sowring , Deuoures his will that liu'd by fowle deuouring . O deeper sinne then bottomlesse conceit Can comprehend in still imagination ! Drunken Desire must vomite his receipt Ere he can see his owne abhomination . While Lust is in his pride no exclamation Can curbe his heat , or reine his rash desire , Till like a Iade , self-will himselfe doth tire . And then with lanke , and leane discolour'd cheeke , With heauie eye , knit-brow , and strengthlesse pace , Feeble desire all recreant , poore and meeke , Like to a banckrout begger wailes his cace : The flesh being proud , Desire doth fight with grace ; For there it reuels , and when that decaies , The guiltie rebell for remission praies . So fares it with this fault-full Lord of Rome , Who this accomplishment so hotly chased , For now against himselfe he sounds this doome , That through the length of times he stands disgraced : Besides his soules faire temple is defaced , To whose weake ruines muster troopes of cares , To aske the spotted Princesse how she fares . Shee sayes her subiects with fowle insurrection , Haue batterd downe her consecrated wall , And by their mortall fault brought in subiection Her immortalitie , and made her thrall , To liuing death and payne perpetuall . Which in her prescience shee controlled still , But her foresight could not for estall their will . Eu'n in this thought through the dark-night he stealeth , A captiue victor that hath lost in gaine , Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth , The scarre that will dispight of Cure remaine , Leauing his spoile perplext in greater paine . Shee beares the lode of lust he left behinde , And he the burthen of a guiltie minde . Hee like a theeuish dog creeps sadly thence , Shee like a wearied Lambe lies panting there , He scowles and hates himselfe for his offence , Shee desperat with her nailes her flesh doth teare . He faintly flies sweating with guiltie feare ; Shee staies exclayming on the direfull night , He runnes and chides his vanisht loth'd delight . He thence departs a heauy conuertite , Shee there remaines a hopelesse cast-away , He in his speed lookes for the morning light : Shee prayes shee neuer may behold the day . For daie , quoth shee , nights scapes doth open lay , And my true eyes haue neuer practiz'd how To cloake offences with a cunning brow . They thinke not but that euerie eye can see , The same disgrace which they themselues behold : And therefore would they still in darkenesse be , To haue their vnseene sinne remaine vntold . For they their guilt with weeping will vnfold , And graue like water that doth eate in steele , Vppon my cheeks , what helpelesse shame I feele . Here shee exclaimes against repose and rest , And bids her eyes hereafter still be blinde , Shee wakes her heart by beating on her brest , And bids it leape from thence , where it maie finde Some pure chest , to close so pure aminde . Franticke with griefe thus breaths shee forth her spite , Against the vnseene secrecie of night . O comfort-killing night , image of Hell , Dim register , and notarie of shame , Blacke stage for tragedies , and murthers fell , Vast sin-concealing Chaos , nourse of blame . Blinde muffled bawd , darke harber for defame , Grim caue of death , whispring conspirator , With close-tong'd treason & the rauisher . O hatefull , vaporous , and foggy night , Since thou art guilty of my curelesse crime : Muster thy mists to meete the Easterne light , Make war against proportion'd course of time . Or if thou wilt permit the Sunne to clime His wonted height , yet ere he go to bed , Knit poysonous clouds about his golden head . With rotten damps rauish the morning aire , Let their exhald vnholdsome breaths make sicke The life of puritie , the supreme faire , Ere he arriue his wearie noone-tide pricke , And let thy mustie vapours march so thicke , That in their smoakie rankes , his smothred light May set at noone , and make perpetuall night . Were TARQVIN night , as he is but nights child , The siluer shining Queene he would distaine ; Her twinckling handmaids to ( by him defil'd ) Through nights black bosom shuld not peep again . So should I haue copartners in my paine , And fellowship in woe doth woe asswage , As Palmers chat makes short their pilgrimage . Where now I haue no one to blush with me , To crosse their armes & hang their heads with mine , To maske their browes and hide their infamie , But I alone , alone must sit and pine , Seasoning the earth with showres of siluer brine ; Mingling my talk with tears , my greef with grones , Poore wasting monuments of lasting mones . O night thou furnace of fowle reeking smoke ! Let no● the iealous daie behold that face , Which vnderneath thy blacke all-hiding cloke Immodestly lies martird with disgrace . Keepe still possession of thy gloomy place , That all the faults which in thy raigne are made , May likewise be sepulcherd in thy shade . Make me not obiect to the tell-tale day , The light will shew characterd in my brow , The storie of sweete chastities decay , The impious breach of holy wedlocke vowe . Yea the illiterate that know not how To cipher what is writ in learned bookes , Will cote my lothsome trespasse in my lookes . The nourse to still her child will tell my storie , And fright her crying babe with TARQVINS name . The Orator to decke his oratorie , Will couple my reproch to TARQVINS shame . Feast-finding minstrels tuning my defame , Will tie the hearers to attend ech line , How TARQVIN wronged me , I COLATINE . Let my good name , that sencelesse reputation , For COLATINES deare loue be kept vnspotted : If that be made a theame for disputation , The branches of another roote are rotted ; And vndeseru'd reproch to him alotted , That is as cleare from this attaint of mine , As I ere this was pure to COLATINE . Ovnseene shame , inuisible disgrace , Ovnfelt sore , crest-wounding priuat scarre ! Reproch is stampt in COLATINVS face , And TARQVINS eye maie read the mot a farre , " How he in peace is wounded not in warre . " Alas how manie beare such shamefull blowes , Which not themselues but he that giues them knowes . If COLATINE , thine honor laie in me , From me by strong assault it is bereft : My Honnie lost , and I a Drone-like Bee , Haue no perfection of my sommer left , But rob'd and ransak't by iniurious theft . In thy weake Hiue a wandring waspe hath crept , And suck't the Honnie which thy chast Bee kept . Yet am I guiltie of thy Honors wracke , Yet for thy Honor did I entertaine him , Comming from thee I could not put him backe : For it had beene dishonor to disdaine him , Besides of wearinesse he did complaine him , And talk't of Vertue ( O vnlook't for euill , ) When Vertue is prophan'd in such a Deuill . Why should the worme intrude the maiden bud ? Or hatefull Kuckcowes hatch in Sparrows nests ? Or Todes infect faire founts with venome mud ? Or tyrant follie lurke in gentle brests ? Or Kings be breakers of their owne behestes ? " But no perfection is so absolute , That some impuritie doth not pollute . The aged man that coffers vp his gold , Is plagu'd with cramps , and gouts , and painefull fits , And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold , But like still pining TANTALVS he sits , And vselesse barnes the haruest of his wits : Hauing no other pleasure of his gaine , But torment that it cannot cure his paine . So then he hath it when he cannot vse it , And leaues it to be maistred by his yong : Who in their pride do presently abuse it , Their father was too weake , and they too strong To hold their cursed-blessed Fortune long . " The sweets we wish for , turne to lothed sowrs , " Euen in the moment that we call them ours . Vnruly blasts wait on the tender spring , Vnholsome weeds take roote with precious flowrs , The Adder hisses where the sweete birds sing , What Vertue breedes Iniquity deuours : We haue no good that we can say is ours , But ill annexed opportunity Or kils his life , or else his quality . O opportunity thy guilt is great , T is thou that execut'st the traytors treason : Thou sets the wolfe where he the lambe may get , Who euer plots the sinne thou poinst the season . T is thou that spurn'st at right , at law , at reason , And in thy shadie Cell where none may spie him , Sits sin to ceaze the soules that wander by him . Thou makest the vestall violate her oath , Thou blowest the fire when temperance is thawd , Thou smotherst honestie , thou murthrest troth , Thou fowle abbettor , thou notorious bawd , Thou plantest scandall , and displacest lawd . Thou rauisher , thou traytor , thou false theefe , Thy honie turnes to gall , thy ioy to greefe . Thy secret pleasure turnes to open shame , Thy priuate feasting to a publicke fast , Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name , Thy sugred tongue to bitter wormwood tast , Thy violent vanities can neuer last . How comes it then , vile opportunity Being so bad , such numbers seeke for thee ? When wilt thou be the humble suppliants friend And bring him where his suit may be obtained ? When wilt thou sort an howre great strifes to end ? Or free that soule which wretchednes hath chained ? Giue phisicke to the sicke , ease to the pained ? The poore , lame , blind , hault , creepe , cry out for thee , But they nere meet with oportunitie . The patient dies while the Phisitian sleepes , The Orphane pines while the oppressor feedes . Iustice is feasting while the widow weepes . Aduise is sporting while infection breeds . Thou graunt'st no time for charitable deeds . Wrath , enuy , treason , rape , and murthers rages , Thy heinous houres wait on them as their Pages . When Trueth and Vertue haue to do with thee , A thousand crosses keepe them from thy aide : They buie thy helpe , but sinne nere giues a fee , He gratis comes , and thou art well apaide , As well to heare , as graunt what he hath saide . My COLATINE would else haue come to me , When TARQVIN did , but he was staied by thee . Guilty thou art of murther , and of theft , Guilty of periurie , and subornation , Guilty of treason , forgerie , and shift , Guilty of incest that abhomination , An accessarie by thine inclination . To all sinnes past and all that are to come , From the creation to the generall doome . Misshapen time , copesmate of vgly night , Swift subtle post , carrier of grieslie care , Eater of youth , false slaue to false delight : Base watch of woes , sins packhorse , vertues snare . Thou noursest all , and murthrest all that are . O heare me then , iniurious shifting time , Be guiltie of my death since of my crime . Why hath thy seruant opportunity Betraide the howres thou gau'st me to repose ? Canceld my fortunes , and inchained me To endlesse date of neuer-ending woes ? Times office is to fine the hate offoes , To eate vp errours by opinion bred , Not spend the dowrie of a lawfull bed . Times glorie is to calme contending Kings , To vnmaske falshood , and bring truth to light , To stampe the seale of time in aged things , To wake the morne , and Centinell the night , To wrong the wronger till he render right , To ruinate proud buildings with thy howres , And smeare with dust their glitring golden towrs . To fill with worme-holes stately monuments , To feede obliuion with decay of things , To blot old bookes , and alter their contents , To plucke the quils from auncient rauens wings , To drie the old oakes sappe , and cherish springs : To spoile Antiquities of hammerd steele , And turne the giddy round of Fortunes wheele . To shew the beldame daughters of her daughter , To make the child a man , the man a childe , To slay the tygre that doth liue by slaughter , To tame the Vnicorne , and Lion wild , To mocke the subtle in themselues beguild , To cheare the Plowman with increasefull crops , And wast huge stones with little water drops . Why work'st thou mischiefe in thy Pilgrimage , Vnlesse thou could'st returne to make amends ? One poore retyring minute in an age Would purchase thee a thousand thousand friends , Lending him wit that to bad detters lends , O this dread night , would'st thou one howr come backe , I could preuent this storme , and shun thy wracke . Thou ceaselesse lackie to Eternitie , With some mischance crosse TARQVIN in his flight . Deuise extreames beyond extremitie , To make him curse this cursed crimefull night : Let gastly shadowes his lewd eyes affright , And the dire thought of his committed euill , Shape euery bush a hideous shapelesse deuill . Disturbe his howres of rest with restlesse trances , Afflict him in his bed with bedred grones , Let there be chaunce him pitifull mischances , To make him mone , but pitie not his mones : Stone him with hardned hearts harder then stones , And let milde women to him loose their mildnesse , Wilder to him then Tygers in their wildnesse . Let him haue time to teare his curled haire , Let him haue time against him selfe to raue , Let him haue time of times helpe to dispaire , Let him haue time to liue a lothed slaue , Let him haue time a beggers orts to craue , And time to see one that by almes doth liue , Disdaine to him disdained scraps to giue . Let him haue time to see his friends his foes , And merrie fooles to mocke at him resort : Let him haue time to marke how slow time goes In time of sorrow , and how swift and short His time of follie , and his time of sport . And euer let his vnrecalling crime Haue time to waile th' abusing of his time . O time thou tutor both to good and bad , Teach me to curse him that thou taught'st this ill : At his owne shadow let the theefe runne mad , Himselfe , himselfe seeke euerie howre to kill , Such wretched hands such wretched blood shuld spill . For who so base would such an office haue , As sclandrous deaths-man to so base a slaue . The baser is he comming from a king , To shame his hope with deedes degenerate , The mightier man the mightier is the thing That makes him honord , or begets him hate : For greatest scandall waits on greatest state . The Moone being clouded , presently is mist , But little stars may hide them when they list . The Crow may bath his coaleblacke wings in mire , And vnperceau'd flie with the filth away , But if the like the snow-white Swan desire , The staine vppon his siluer Downe will stay . Poore grooms are sightles night , kings glorious day , Gnats are vnnoted wheresoere they flie , But Eagles gaz'd vppon with euerie eye . Out idle wordes , seruants to shallow fooles , Vnprofitable sounds , weake arbitrators , Busie your selues in skill contending schooles , Debate where leysure serues with dull debators : To trembling Clients be you mediators , For me , I force not argument a straw , Since that my case is past the helpe of law . In vaine I raile at oportunitie , At time , at TARQVIN , and vnchearfull night , In vaine I cauill with mine infamie , In vaine I spurne at my confirm'd despight , This helpelesse smoake of words doth me no right : The remedie indeede to do me good , Is to let forth my fowle defiled blood . Poore hand why quiuerst thou at this decree ? Honor thy selfe to rid me of this shame , For if I die , my Honor liues in thee , But if I liue thou liu'st in my defame ; Since thou couldst not defend thy loyall Dame , And wast affeard to scratch her wicked Fo , Kill both thy selfe , and her for yeelding so . This said , from her betombled couch shee starteth , To finde some desp'rat Instrument of death , But this no slaughter house no toole imparteth , To make more vent for passage of her breath , Which thronging through her lips so vanisheth , As smoake from AETNA , that in aire consumes , Or that which from discharged Cannon fumes . In vaine ( quoth shee ) I liue , and seeke in vaine Some happie meane to end a haplesse life . I fear'd by TARQVINS Fauchion to be slaine , Yet for the selfe same purpose seeke a knife ; But when I fear'd I was a loyall wife , So am I now , ô no that cannot be , Of that true tipe hath TARQVIN rifled me . O that is gone for which I sought to liue , And therefore now I need not feare to die , To cleare this spot by death ( at least ) I giue A badge of Fame to sclanders liuerie , A dying life , to liuing infamie : Poore helplesse helpe , the treasure stolne away , To burne the guiltlesse casket where it lay . Well well deare COLATINE , thou shalt not know The stained tast of violated troth : I will not wrong thy true affection so , To flatter thee with an infringed oath : This bastard graffe shall neuer come to growth , He shall not boast who did thy stocke pollute , That thou art doting father of his fruite . Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought , Nor laugh with his companions at thy state , But thou shalt know thy intrest was not bought Basely with gold , but stolne from foorth thy gate . For me I am the mistresse of my fate , And with my trespasse neuer will dispence , Till life to death acquit my forst offence . I will not poyson thee with my attaint , Nor fold my fault in cleanly coin'd excuses , My sable ground of sinne I will not paint , To hide the truth of this false nights abuses . My tongue shall vtter all , mine eyes like sluces , As from a mountaine spring that feeds a dale , Shal gush pure streams to purge my impure tale . By this lamenting Philomele had ended The well-tun'd warble of her nightly sorrow , And solemne night with slow sad gate descended To ouglie Hell , when loe the blushing morrow Lends light to all faire eyes that light will borrow . But cloudie LVCRECE shames her selfe to see . And therefore still in night would cloistred be . Reuealing day through euery crannie spies , And seems to point her out where she sits weeping , To whom shee sobbing speakes , ô eye of eyes , Why pry'st thou throgh my window ? leaue thy peeping , Mock with thy tickling beams , eies that are sleeping ; Brand not my forehead with thy percing light , For day hath nought to do what 's done by night . Thus cauils shee with euerie thing shee sees , True griefe is fond and testie as a childe , Who wayward once , his mood with naught agrees , Old woes , not infant sorrowes beare them milde , Continuance tames the one , the other wilde , Like an vnpractiz'd swimmer plunging still , With too much labour drowns for want of skill . So shee deepe drenched in a Sea of care , Holds disputation with ech thing shee vewes , And to her selfe all sorrow doth compare , No obiect but her passions strength renewes : And as one shiftes another straight insewes , Somtime her griefe is dumbe and hath no words , Sometime t is mad and too much talke affords . The little birds that tune their mornings ioy , Make her mones mad , with their sweet melodie , " For mirth doth search the bottome of annoy , " Sad soules are slaine in merrie companie , " Griefe best is pleas'd with griefes societie ; " True sorrow then is feelinglie suffiz'd , " When with like semblance it is simpathiz'd . " T is double death to drowne in ken ofshore , " He ten times pines , that pines beholding food , " To see the salue doth make the wound ake more : " Great griefe greeues most at that wold do it good ; " Deepe woes rowle forward like a gentle flood , Who being stopt , the bounding banks oreflowes , Griefe dallied with , nor law , nor limit knowes . You mocking Birds ( quoth she ) your tunes intombe Within your hollow swelling feathered breasts , And in my hearing be you mute and dumbe , My restlesse discord loues no stops nor rests : " A woefull Hostesse brookes not merrie guests . Ralish your nimble notes to pleasing eares , " Distres likes dumps when time is kept with teares . Come Philomele that sing'st of rauishment , Make thy sad groue in my disheueld heare , As the danke earth weepes at thy languishment : So I at each sad straine , will straine a teare , And with deepe grones the Diapason beare : For burthen-wise i le hum on TARQVIN still , While thou on TEREVS descants better skill . And whiles against a thorne thou bear'st thy part , To keepe thy sharpe woes waking , wretched I To imitate thee well , against my heart Will fixe a sharpe knife to affright mine eye , Who if it winke shall thereon fall and die . These meanes as frets vpon an instrument , Shal tune our heart-strings to true languishment . And for poore bird thou sing'st not in the day , As shaming anie eye should thee behold : Some darke deepe desert seated from the way , That knowes not parching heat , nor freezing cold Will wee find out : and there we will vnfold To creatures stern , sad tunes to change their kinds , Since men proue beasts , let beasts bear gentle minds . As the poore frighted Deare that stands at gaze , Wildly determining which way to flie , Or one incompast with a winding maze , That cannot tread the way out readilie : So with her selfe is shee in mutinie , To liue or die which of the twaine were better , When life is sham'd and death reproches detter . To kill my selfe , quoth shee , alacke what were it , But with my body my poore soules pollusion ? They that loose halfe with greater patience beare it , Then they whose whole is swallowed in confusion . That mother tries a mercilesse conclusion , Who hauing two sweet babes , when death takes one , Will stay the other , and be nurse to none . My bodie or my soule which was the dearer ? When the one pure , the other made deuine , Whose loue of eyther to my selfe was nearer ? When both were kept for Heauen and COLATINE : Ay me , the Barke pild from the loftie Pine , His leaues will wither , and his sap decay , So must my soule her barke being pild away . Her house is sackt , her quiet interrupted , Her mansion batterd by the enemie , Her sacred temple spotted , spoild , corrupted , Groslie ingirt with daring infamie . Then let it not be cald impietie , If in this blemisht for t I make some hole , Through which I may conuay this troubled soule . Yet die I will not , till my COLATINE Haue heard the cause of my vntimelie death , That he may vow in that sad houre of mine , Reuenge on him that made me stop my breath , My stained bloud to TARQVIN i le bequeath , Which by him tainted , shall for him be spent , And as his due writ in my testament . My Honorile bequeath vnto the knife That wounds my bodie so dishonored , T is Honor to depriue dishonord life , The one will liue , the other being dead . So of shames ashes shall my Fame be bred , For in my death I murther shamefull scorne , My shame so dead , mine honor is new borne . Deare Lord of that deare iewell I haue lost , What legacie shall I bequeath to thee ? My resolution loue shall be thy bost , By whose example thou reueng'd mayst be . How TARQVIN must be vs'd , read it in me , My selfe thy friend will kill my selfe thy fo , And for my sake serue thou false TARQVIN so . This briefe abridgement of my will I make , My soule and bodie to the skies and ground : My resolution Husband doe thou take , Mine Honor be the knifes that makes my wound , My shame be his that did my Fame confound ; And all my Fame that liues disbursed be , To those that liue and thinke no shame of me . Thou COLATINE shalt ouersee this will , How was I ouerseene that thou shalt see it ? My bloud shall wash the sclander of mine ill , My liues foule deed my lifes faire end shall free it . Faint not faint heart , but stoutlie say so be it , Yeeld to my hand , my hand shall conquer thee , Thou dead , both die , and both shall victors be . This plot of death when sadlie shee had layd , And wip't the brinish pearle from her bright eies , With vntun'd tongue shee hoarslie cals her mayd , Whose swift obedience to her mistresse hies . " For fleet-wing'd duetie with thoghts feathers flies , Poore LVCRECE cheeks vnto her maid seem so , As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow . Her mistresse shee doth giue demure good morrow , With soft slow-tongue , true marke of modestie , And sorts a sad looke to her Ladies sorrow , ( For why her face wore sorrowes liuerie . ) But durst not aske of her audaciouslie , Why her two suns were clowd ecclipsed so , Nor why her faire cheeks ouer-washt with woe . But as the earth doth weepe the Sun being set , Each flowre moistned like a melting eye : Euen so the maid with swelling drops gan wet Her circled eien inforst , by simpathie Of those faire Suns set in her mistresse skie , Who in a salt wau'd Ocean quench their light , Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night . A prettie while these prettie creatures stand , Like Iuorie conduits corall cesterns filling : One iustlie weepes , the other takes in hand No cause , but companie of her drops spilling . Their gentle sex to weepe are often willing , Greeuing themselues to gesse at others smarts , And then they drown their eies , or break their harts . For men haue marble , women waxen mindes , And therefore are they form'd as marble will , The weake opprest , th' impression of strange kindes Is form'd in them by force , by fraud , or skill . Then call them not the Authors of their ill , No more then waxe shall be accounted euill , Wherein is stampt the semblance of a Deuill . Their smoothnesse ; like a goodly champaine plaine , Laies open all the little wormes that creepe , In men as in a rough-growne groue remaine . Caue-keeping euils that obscurely sleepe . Through christall wals ech little mote will peepe , Though men can couer crimes with bold stern looks , Poore womens faces are their owne faults books . No man inueigh against the withered flowre , But chide rough winter that the flowre hath kild , Not that deuour'd , but that which doth deuour Is worthie blame , ô let it not be hild Poore womens faults , that they are so fulfild With mens abuses , those proud Lords to blame , Make weak-made women tenants to their shame . The president whereof in LVCRECE view , Assail'd by night with circumstances strong Of present death , and shame that might insue . By that her death to do her husband wrong , Such danger to resistance did belong : That dying feare through all her bodie spred , And who cannot abuse a bodie dead ? By this milde patience bid faire LVCRECE speake , To the poore counterfaite of her complayning , My girle , quoth shee , on what occasion breake Those tears from thee , that downe thy cheeks are raigning ? If thou dost weepe for griefe of my sustaining : Know gentle wench it small auailes my mood , If tears could help , mine own would do me good . But tell me girle , when went ( and there shee staide , Till after a deepe grone ) TARQVIN from hence , Madame ere I was vp ( repli'd the maide , ) The more to blame my sluggard negligence . Yet with the fault I thus farre can dispence : My selfe was stirring ere the breake of day , And ere I rose was TARQVIN gone away . But Lady , if your maide may be so bold , Shee would request to know your heauinesse : ( O peace quoth LVCRECE ) if it should be told , The repetition cannot make it lesse : For more it is , then I can well expresse , And that deepe torture may be cal'd a Hell , When more is felt then one hath power to tell . Go get mee hither paper , inke , and pen , Yet saue that labour , for I haue them heare , ( What should I say ) one of my husbands men Bid thou be readie , by and by , to beare A letter to my Lord , my Loue , my Deare , Bid him with speede prepare to carrie it , The ●ause craues hast , and it will soone be writ . Her maide is gone , and shee prepares to write , First houering ore the paper with her quill : Conceipt and griefe an eager combat fight , What wit sets downe is blotted straight with will . This is too curious good , this blunt and ill , Much like a presse of people at a dore , Throng her inuentions which shall go before . At last shee thus begins : thou worthie Lord , Of that vnworthie wife that greeteth thee , Health to thy person , next , vouchsafe t' afford ( If euer loue , thy LVCRECE thou wilt see , ) Some present speed , to come and visite me : So I commend me , from our house in griefe , My woes are tedious , though my words are briefe . Here folds shee vp the tenure of her woe , Her certaine sorrow writ vncertainely , By this short Cedule COLATINE may know Her griefe , but not her griefes true quality , Shee dares not there of make discouery , Lest he should hold it her own grosse abuse , Ere she with bloud had stain'd her stain'd excuse . Besides the life and feeling of her passion , Shee hoords to spend , when he is by to heare her , When sighs , & grones , & tears may grace the fashion Of her disgrace , the better so to cleare her From that suspicion which the world might bear her . To shun this blot , shee would not blot the letter With words , till action might becom them better . To see sad sights , moues more then heare them told , For then the eye interpretes to the eare The heauie motion that it doth behold , When euerie part , a part of woe doth beare . T is but a part of sorrow that we heare , Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow foords , And sorrow ebs , being blown with wind of words . Her letter now is seal'd , and on it writ At ARDEA to my Lord with more then hast , The Post attends , and shee deliuers it , Charging the sowr-fac'd groome , to high as fast As lagging fowles before the Northerne blast , Speed more then speed ; but dul & slow she deems , Extremity still vrgeth such extremes . The homelie villaine cursies to her low , And blushing on her with a stedfast eye , Receaues the scroll without or yea or no , And forth with bashfull innocence doth hie . But they whose guilt within their bosomes lie , Imagine euerie eye beholds their blame , For LVCRECE thought , he blusht to see her shame . When seelie Groome ( God wot ) it was defect Of spirite , life , and bold audacitie , Such harmlesse creatures haue a true respect To talke in deeds , while others saucilie Promise more speed , but do it leysurelie . Euen so the patterne of this worne-out age , Pawn'd honest looks , but laid no words to gage . His kindled duetie kindled her mistrust , That two red fires in both their faces blazed , Shee thought he blusht , as knowing TARQVINS lust , And blushing with him , wistlie on him gazed , Her earnest eye did make him more amazed . The more shee saw the bloud his cheeks replenish , The more she thought he spied in her som blemish . But long shee thinkes till he returne againe , And yet the dutious vassall scarce is gone , The wearie time shee cannot entertaine , For now t is stale to sigh , to weepe , and grone , So woe hath wearied woe , mone tired mone , That shee her plaints a little while doth stay , Pawsing for means to mourne some newer way . At last shee cals to mind where hangs a peece Of skilfull painting , made for PRIAMS Troy , Before the which is drawn the power of Greece , For HELENS rape , the Cittie to destroy , Threatning cloud-kissing ILLION with annoy , Which the conceipted Painter drew so prowd , As Heauen ( it seem'd ) to kisse the turrets bow'd . A thousand lamentable obiects there , In scorne of Nature , Art gaue liuelesse life , Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping teare , Shed for the slaughtred husband by the wife . The red bloud reek'd to shew the Painters strife , And dying eyes gleem'd forth their ashie lights , Like dying coales burnt out in tedious nights . There might you see the labouring Pyoner Begrim'd with sweat , and smeared all with dust , And from the towres of Troy , there would appeare The verie eyes of men through loop-holes thrust , Gazing vppon the Greekes with little lust , Such sweet obseruance in this worke was had , That one might see those farre of eyes looke sad . In great commaunders , Grace , and Maiestie , You might behold triumphing in their faces , In youth quick-bearing and dexteritie , And here and there the Painter interlaces Pale cowards marching on with trembling paces . Which hartlesse peasaunts did so wel resemble , That one would swear he saw them quake & tremble . In AIAX and VLYSSES , ô what Art Of Phisiognomy might one behold ! The face of eyther cypher'd eythers heart , Their face , their manners most expreslie told , In AIAX eyes blunt rage and rigour rold , But the mild glance that slie VLYSSES lent , Shewed deepe regard and smiling gouernment . There pleading might you see graue NESTOR stand , As'twere incouraging the Greekes to fight , Making such sober action with his hand , That it beguild attention , charm'd the sight , In speech it seemd his beard , all siluer white , Wag'd vp and downe , and from his lips did flie , Thin winding breath which purl'd vp to the skie . About him were a presse of gaping faces , Which seem'd to swallow vp his sound aduice , All ioyntlie listning , but with seuerall graces , As if some Marmaide did their eares intice , Some high , some low , the Painter was so nice . The scalpes of manie almost hid behind , To iump vp higher seem'd to mocke the mind . Here one mans hand leand on anothers head , His nose being shadowed by his neighbours care , Here one being throng'd , bears back all boln , & red , Another smotherd , seemes to pelt and sweare , And in their rage such signes of rage they beare , As but for losse of NESTORS golden words , It seem'd they would debate with angrie swords . For much imaginarie worke was there , Conceipt deceitfull , so compact so kinde , That for ACHILLES image stood his speare Grip't in an Armed hand , himselfe behind Was left vnseene , saue to the eye of mind , A hand , a foote , a face , a leg , a head Stood for the whole to be imagined . And from the wals of strong besieged TROY , When their braue hope , bold HECTOR march'd to field , Stood manie Troian mothers sharing ioy , To see their youthfull sons bright weapons wield , And to their hope they such odde action yeeld , That through their light ioy seemed to appeare , ( Like bright things staind ) a kind of heauie feare . And from the strond of DARDAN where they fought , To SIMOIS reedie bankes the red bloud ran , Whose waues to imitate the battaile sought With swelling ridges , and their rankes began To breake vppon the galled shore , and than Retire againe , till meeting greater ranckes They ioine , & shoot their fome at SIMOIS bancks . To this well painted peece is LVCRECE come , To find a face where all distresse is steld , Manie shee sees , where cares haue carued some , But none where all distresse and dolor dweld , Till shee dispayring HECVBA beheld , Staring on PRIAMS wounds with her old eyes , Which bleeding vnder PIRRHVS proud foot lies . In her the Painter had anathomiz'd Times ruine , beauties wracke , and grim cares raign , Her cheeks with chops and wrincles were disguiz'd , Of what shee was , no semblance did remaine : Her blew bloud chang'd to blacke in euerie vaine , Wanting the spring , that those shrunke pipes had fed , Shew'd life imprison'd in a bodie dead . On this sad shadow LVCRECE spends her eyes , And shapes her sorrow to the Beldames woes , Who nothing wants to answer her but cries , And bitter words to ban her cruell Foes . The Painter was no God to lend her those , And therefore LVCRECE swears he did her wrong , To giue her so much griefe , and not a tong . Poore Instrument ( quoth shee ) without a sound , I le tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue , And drop sweet Balme in PRIAMS painted wound , And raile on PIRRHVS that hath done him wrong ; And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long ; And with my knife scratch out the angrie eyes , Of all the Greekes that are thine enemies . Shew me the strumpet that began this stur , That with my nailes her beautie I may teare : Thy heat of lust fond PARIS did incur This lode of wrath , that burning Troy doth beare ; Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here , And here in Troy for trespasse of thine eye , The Sire , the sonne , the Dame and daughter die . Why should the priuate pleasure of some one Become the publicke plague of manie moe ? Let sinne alone committed , light alone Vppon his head that hath transgressed so . Let guiltlesse soules be freed from guilty woe , For ones offence why should so many fall ? To plague a priuate sinne in generall . Lo here weeps HECVBA , here PRIAM dies , Here manly HECTOR faints , here TROYLVS sounds , Here friend by friend in bloudie channel lies : And friend to friend giues vnaduised wounds , And one mans lust these maine liues confounds . Had doting PRIAM checkt his sons desire , TROY had bin bright with Fame , & not with fire . Here feelingly she weeps TROYES painted woes , For sorrow , like a heauie hanging Bell , Once set on ringing , with his own waight goes , Then little strength rings , out the dolefull knell , So LVCRECE set a worke , sad tales doth tell To pencel'd pensiuenes , & colour'd sorrow , She lends them words , & she their looks doth borrow , Shee throwes her eyes about the painting round , And who shee finds forlorne , shee doth lament : At last shee sees a wretched image bound , That piteous lookes , to Phrygian sheapheards lent , His face though full of cares , yet shew'd content , Onward to TROY with the blunt swains he goes , So mild that patience seem'd to scorne his woes . In him the Painter labour'd with his skill To hide deceipt , and giue the harmlesse show An humble gate , calme looks , eyes wayling still , A brow vnbent that seem'd to welcome wo , Cheeks neither red , nor pale , but mingled so , That blushing red , no guiltie instance gaue , Nor ashie pale , the feare that false hearts haue . But like a constant and confirmed Deuill , He entertain'd a show , so seeming iust , And therein so ensconc't his secret euill , That Iealousie it selfe could not mistrust , False creeping Craft , and Periurie should thrust Into so bright a daie , such blackfac'd storms , Or blot with Hell-born sin such Saint-like forms . The well-skil'd workman this milde Image drew For periur'd SINON , whose inchaunting storie The credulous old PRIAM after slew . Whose words like wild fire burnt the shining glorie Of rich-built ILLION , that the skies were sorie , And little stars shot from their fixed places , When their glas fel , wherin they view'd their faces . This picture shee aduisedly perus'd , And chid the Painter for his wondrous skill : Saying , some shape in SINONS was abus'd , So faire a forme lodg'd not a mind so ill , And still on him shee gaz'd , and gazing still , Such signes of truth in his plaine face shee spied , That shee concludes , the Picture was belied . It cannot be ( quoth she ) that so much guile , ( Shee would haue said ) can lurke in such a looke : But TARQVINS shape , came in her mind the while , And from her tongue , can lurk , from cannot , tooke It cannot be , shee in that sence forsooke , And turn'd it thus , it cannot be I find , But such a face should beare a wicked mind . For euen as subtill SINON here is painted , So sober sad , so wearie , and so milde , ( As if with griefe or trauaile he had fainted ) To me came TARQVIN armed to beguild With outward honestie , but yet defild With inward vice , as PRIAM him did cherish : So did I TARQVIN , so my Troy did perish . Looke looke how listning PRIAM wets his eyes , To see those borrowed teares that SINON sheeds , PRIAM why art thou old , and yet not wise ? For euerie teare he fals a Troian bleeds : His eye drops fire , no water thence proceeds , Those round clear pearls of his that moue thy pitty , Are bals of quenchlesse fire to burne thy Citty . Such Deuils steale effects from lightlesse Hell , For SINON in his fire doth quake with cold , And in that cold hot burning fire doth dwell , These contraries such vnitie do hold , Only to flatter fooles , and make them bold , So PRIAMS trust false SINONS teares doth flatter , That he finds means to burne his Troy with water . Here all inrag'd such passion her assailes , That patience is quite beaten from her breast , Shee tears the sencelesse SINON with her nailes , Comparing him to that vnhappie guest , Whose deede hath made herselfe , herselfe detest , At last shee smilingly with this giues ore , Foole fool , quoth she , his wounds wil not be sore . Thus ebs and flowes the currant of her sorrow , And time doth wearie time with her complayning , Shee looks for night , & then shee longs for morrow , And both shee thinks too long with her remayning . Short time seems long , in sorrowes sharp sustayning , Though wo be heauie , yet it seldome sleepes , And they that watch , see time , how slow it creeps . Which all this time hath ouerslipt her thought , That shee with painted Images hath spent , Being from the feeling of her own griefe brought , By deepe surmise of others detriment , Loosing her woes in shews of discontent : It easeth some , though none it euer cured , To thinke their dolour others haue endured . But now the mindfull Messenger come backe , Brings home his Lord and other companie , Who finds his LVCRECE clad in mourning black , And round about her teare-distained eye Blew circles stream'd , like Rain-bows in the skie . These watergalls in her dim Element , Foretell new stormes to those alreadie spent . Which when her sad beholding husband saw , Amazedlie in her sad face he slares : Her eyes though sod in tears look'd red and raw , Her liuelie colour kil'd with deadlie cares , He hath no power to aske her how shee fares , Both stood like old acquaintance in a trance , Met far from home , wondring ech others chance . At last he takes her by the bloudlesse hand , And thus begins : what vncouth ill euent Hath thee befalne , that thou dost trembling stand ? Sweet loue what spite hath thy faire colour spent ? Why art thou thus attir'd in discontent ? Vnmaske deare deare , this moodie heauinesse , And tell thy griefe , that we may giue redresse . Three times with sighes shee giues her sorrow fire , Ere once shee can discharge one word of woe : At length addrest to answer his desire , Shee modestlie prepares , to let them know Her Honor is tane prisoner by the Foe , While COLATINE and his consorted Lords , With sad attention long to heare her words . And now this pale Swan in her watrie nest , Begins the sad Dirge of her certaine ending , Few words ( quoth shee ) shall fit the trespasse best , Where no excuse can giue the fault amending . In me moe woes then words are now depending , And my laments would be drawn out too long , To tell them all with one poore tired tong . Then be this all the taske it hath to say , Deare husband in the interest of thy bed A stranger came , and on that pillow lay , Where thou wast wont to rest thy wearie head , And what wrong else may be imagined , By foule inforcement might be done to me , From that ( alas ) thy LVCRECE is not free . For in the dreadfull dead of darke midnight , With snining Fauchion in my chamber came A creeping creature with a flaming light , And softly cried , awake thou Romaine Dame , And entertaine my loue , else lasting shame On thee and thine this night I will inflict , If thou my loues desire do contradict . For some hard fauour'd Groome of thine , quoth he , Vnlesse thou yoke thy liking to my will I le murther straight , and then i le slaughter thee , And sweare I found you where you did fulfill The lothsome act of Lust , and so did kill The lechors in their deed , this Act will be My Fame , and thy perpetuall infamy . With this I did begin to start and cry , And then against my heart he set his sword , Swearing , vnlesse I tooke all patiently , I should not liue to speake another word . So should my shame still rest vpon record , And neuer be forgot in mightie Roome Th' adulterat death of LVCRECE , and her Groome . Mine enemy was strong , my poore selfe weake , ( And farre the weaker with so strong a feare ) My bloudie Iudge forbod my tougue to speake , No rightfull plea might plead for lustice there . His scarlet Lust came euidence to sweare That my poore beautie had purloin'd his eyes , And when the Iudge is rob'd , the prisoner dies . O teach me how to make mine owne excuse , Or ( at the least ) this refuge let me finde , Though my grosse bloud be staind with this abuse , Immaculate , and spotlesse is my mind , That was not forc'd , that neuer was inclind To accessarie yeeldings , but still pure Doth in her poyson'd closet yet endure . Lo heare the hopelesse Marchant of this losse , With head declin'd , and voice dam'd vp with wo , With sad set eyes and wretched armes acrosse , From lips new waxen pale , begins to blow The griefe away , that stops his answer so . But wretched as he is he striues in vaine , What he breaths out , his breath drinks vp again . As through an Arch , the violent roaring tide , Outruns the eye that doth behold his hast : Yet in the Edie boundeth in his pride , Backe to the strait that forst him on so fast : In rage sent out , recald in rage being past , Euen so his sighes , his sorrowes make a saw , To push griefe on , and back the same grief draw . Which speechlesse woe of his poore she attendeth , And his vntimelie frenzie thus awaketh , Deare Lord , thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth Another power , no floud by raining slaketh , My woe too sencible thy passion maketh More feeling painfull , let it than suffice To drowne on woe , one paire of weeping eyes . And for my sake when I might charme thee so , For shee that was thy LVCRECE , now attend me , Be sodainelie reuenged on my Foe . Thine , mine , his own , suppose thou dost defend me From what is past , the helpe that thou shalt lend me Comes all too late , yet let the Traytor die , " For sparing Iustice feeds iniquitie . But ere I name him , you faire Lords , quoth shee , ( Speaking to those that came with COLATINE ) Shall plight your Honourable faiths to me , With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine , For'tis a meritorious faire designe , To chase iniustice with reuengefull armes , Knights by their oaths should right poore Ladies harmes . At this request , with noble disposition , Each present Lord began to promise aide , As bound in Knighthood to her imposition , Longing to heare the hatefull Foe bewraide . But shee that yet her sad taske hath not said , The protestation stops , ô speake quoth shee , How may this forced staine be wip'd from me ? What is the qualitie of my offence Being constrayn'd with dreadfull circumstance ? May my pure mind with the fowle act dispence My low declined Honor to aduance ? May anie termes acquit me from this chance ? The poysoned fountaine cleares it selfe againe , And why not I from this compelled staine ? With this they all at once began to saie , Her bodies staine , her mind vntainted cleares , While with a ioylesse smile , shee turnes awaie The face , that map which deepe impression beares Of hard misfortune , caru'd it in with tears . No no , quoth shee , no Dame hereafter liuing , By my excuse shall claime excuses giuing . Here with a sigh as if her heart would breake , Shee throwes forth TARQVINS name : he he , she saies , But more then he , her poore tong could not speake , Till after manie accents and delaies , Vntimelie breathings , sicke and short assaies , Shee vtters this , he he faire Lords , t is he That guides this hand to giue this wound to me . Euen here she sheathed in her harmlesse breast A harmfull knife , that thence her soule vnsheathed , That blow did baile it from the deepe vnrest Of that polluted prison , where it breathed : Her contrite sighes vnto the clouds bequeathed Her winged sprite , & through her wounds doth flie Liues lasting date , from cancel'd destinie . Stone still , astonisht with this deadlie deed , Stood COLATINE , and all his Lordly crew , Till LVCRECE Father that beholds her bleed , Himselfe , on her selfe-slaughtred bodie threw , And from the purple fountaine BRVTVS drew The murdrous knife , and as it left the place , Her bloud in poore reuenge , held it in chase . And bubling from her brest , it doth deuide In two slow riuers , that the crimson bloud Circles her bodie in on euerie side , Who like a late sack't Iland vastlie stood Bare and vnpeopled , in this fearfull flood . Some of her bloud still pure and red remain'd , And som look'd black , & that false TARQVIN stain'd . About the mourning and congealed face Of that blacke bloud , a watrie rigoll goes , Which seemes to weep vpon the tainted place , And euer since as pittying LVCRECE woes , Corrupted bloud , some waterie token showes , And bloud vntainted , still doth red abide , Blushing at that which is so putrified . Daughter , deare daughter , old LVCRETIVS cries , That life was mine which thou hast here depriued , If in the childe the fathers image lies , Where shall I liue now LVCRECE is vnliued ? Thou wast not to this end from me deriued . If children praedecease progenitours , We are their ofspring and they none of ours . Poore broken glasse , I often did behold In thy sweet semblance , my old age new borne , But now that faire fresh mirror dim and old Shewes me a bare bon'd death by time out-worne , O from thy cheekes my image thou hast torne , And shiuerd all the beautie of my glasse , That I no more can see what once I was . O time cease thou thy course and last no longer , If they surcease to be that should suruiue : Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger , And leaue the foultring feeble soules aliue ? The old Bees die , the young possesse their hiue , Then liue sweet LVCRECE , liue againe and see Thy father die , and not thy father thee . By this starts COLATINE as from a dreame , And bids LVCRECIVS giue his sorrow place , And than in key-cold LVCRECE bleeding streame He fals , and bathes the pale feare in his face , And counterfaits to die with her a space . Till manly shame bids him possesse his breath , And liue to be reuenged on her death . The deepe vexation of his inward soule , Hath seru'd a dumbe arrest vpon his tongue , Who mad that sorrow should his vse controll , Or keepe him from heart-easing words so long , Begins to talke , but through his lips do throng Weake words , so thick come in his poor harts aid , That no man could distinguish what he said . Yet sometime TARQVIN was pronounced plaine , But through his teeth , as if the name he tore , This windie tempest , till it blow vp raine , Held backe his sorrowes tide , to make it more . At last it raines , and busie windes giue ore , Then sonne and father weep with equall strife , Who shuld weep most for daughter or for wife . The one doth call her his , the other his , Yet neither may possesse the claime they lay . The father saies , shee 's mine , ô mine shee is Replies her husband , do not take away My sorrowes interest , let no mourner say He weepes for her , for shee was onely mine , And onelie must be wayl'd by COLATINE . O , quoth LVCRETIVS , I did giue that life Which shee to earely and too late hath spil'd . Woe woe , quoth COLATINE , shee was my wife , I owed her , and t is mine that shee hath kil'd . My daughter and my wife with clamors fild The disperst aire , who holding LVCRECE life , Answer'd their cries , my daughter and my wife . BRVTVS who pluck't the knife from LVCRECE side , Seeing such emulation in their woe , Began to cloath his wit in state and pride , Burying in LVCRECE wound his follies show , He with the Romains was esteemed so As seelie ieering idiots are with Kings , For sportiue words , and vttring foolish things . But now he throwes that shallow habit by , Wherein deepe pollicie did him disguise , And arm'd his long hid wits aduisedlie , To checke the teares in COLATINVS eies . Thou wronged Lord of Rome , quoth he , arise , Let my vnsounded selfe suppos'd a foole , Now set thy long experienc't wit to schoole . Why COLATINE , is woe the cure for woe ? Do wounds helpe wounds , or griefe helpe greeuous deeds ? Is it reuenge to giue thy selfe a blow , For his fowle Act , by whom thy faire wife bleeds ? Such childish humor from weake minds proceeds , Thy wretched wife mistooke the matter so , To slaie her selfe that should haue slaine her Foe . Couragious Romaine , do not steepe thy hart In such relenting dew of Lamentations , But kneele with me and helpe to beare thy part , To rowse our Romaine Gods with inuocations , That they will suffer these abhominations . ( Since Rome her self in them doth stand disgraced , ) By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chaced . Now by the Capitoll that we adore , And by this chast bloud so vniustlie stained , By heauens faire sun that breeds the fat earths store , By all our countrey rights in Rome maintained , And by chast LVCRECE soule that late complained Her wrongs to vs , and by this bloudie knife , We will reuenge the death of this true wife . This sayd , he strooke his hand vpon his breast , And kist the fatall knife to end his vow : And to his protestation vrg'd the rest , Who wondring at him , did his words allow . Then ioyntlie to the ground their knees they bow , And that deepe vow which BRVTVS made before , He doth againe repeat , and that they swore . When they had sworne to this aduised doome , They did conclude to beare dead LVCRECE thence , To shew her bleeding bodie thorough Roome , And so to publish TARQVINS fowle offence ; Which being done , with speedie diligence , The Romaines plausibly did giue consent , To TARQVINS euerlasting banishment . FINIS .