Imatges de pÓgina

And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good A purple flower sprung up chequer'd with white, To wither in my breast, as in his blood.

Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood, 'Here was thy father's bed, here is my breast,

Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right; She bows her head the new-sprung flower to smell, Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, Comparing it to her Adonis breath :

My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,

There shall not be one minute of an hour, Since he himself is reft from her by death; Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.'

She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears Thas weary of the world, away she hies, Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. And yokes her silver doves, by whose swift aid, Poor flower ! quoth she, “this was thy father's guise, Their mistress mounted, through the empty skies (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire) In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; For every little grief to wet his eyes,

Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen To grow unto himself was his desire,

Means to immure herself, and not be seen.

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Sextus Tarquinius being inflamed with Lucrece's beauty, yet smothering his passion for the present, departed with the rest back to the camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew

himself, and was (according to his state) royTO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE,

ally entertained, and lodged by Lucrece at ColHENRY WRIOTHESLY,

lutium. The same night, he treacherously steal

ing into her chamber, violently ravished her; Earl of Southampton, and Buron of Tichfield. und early in the morning speeded away. LuRight HONOURABLE,

crece, in this lamentable plight, hastily disThe love I dedicate to your lordship is without patcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, end : whereof this painphlet, without beginning, is another to the camp for Collatine. They cume, the but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of one accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other your honourable disposition, not the worth of my

with Publius Valerius: and finding Lucrece atuntutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance.

tired in a mourning habit, demanded the cause What I have done, is yours, what I have to do, is

of her sorrow. She first taking an oath of them yours, being part in all I have devoted yours. for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole Were my worth greater, my duty should shew matter of his dealing, and withalsuddenly stabbgreater: mean time, as it is, it is bound to your

ed herself. Which done, with one consent, they lordship, to whom I wish long life, still lengthened

all vowed to root out the whole hated family of with all happiness.

the Tarquins: und bearing the dead body to Your Lordship’s in all duty,

Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the

doer, and manner of the vile deed; with a bitter WILL. SHAKSPEARE.

invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the people were

so moved, that with

une consent, and a general acclamation, the THE ARGUMENT.

Turquins were all exiled, and the state-govern

ment changed, from kings to consuls. Lucius Tarquinius (for his excessive pride sur

named Superbus) after he had caused his father- From the besieged Ardea all in post, in-law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murdered, Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, and contrary to the Roman laws and customs, Lust-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman host, not requiring or stuying for the people's suffra- and to Collatium bears the lightless fire ges, had possessed himself of the kingdom, Which in pale embers hid, lerks to aspire, wens, accompanied with his sons, and other And girdle with embracing flames the waste moblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During

Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste. which siege, the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus Tarqui

Hapiy that name of chaste, unhaply set nius, the king's son, in their discourses after

This baitless edge on his keen appetite: supper, every one coinmended the virtues of his When Collatine unwisely did not let, own wise; among whom Collatinus extolled the To praise the clear unmatched red and white, incomparable chustity of his wife Lucrece.

Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight;

In that pleasunt humour they all posted to Rome;

Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, and, intending, by their secret and sudden ar

With purc aspects did him peculiar duties. rival, to make trial of that which every one For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, had before avouched: only Collatinus finds his Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state: wife (though it were late in the nighs) spinning What price'ess wealth the heavens had him lent, amongst her maids, the other ladies were found in the possession of his beanteous mate; all dancing and revelling, or in several disports. Reckoning his fortune at so high a rate, Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus the That kings might be espoused to more fame, victory, and his wife the fame. At that time, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.


O happiness enjoy'd but of a few !

And reverend welcome to her princely guest, And if posess'd, as soon decay'd and done;

Whose inward ill no outward-harm exprest. As is the morning's silver melting dew,

For that he colour'd with his high estate,
Against the golden splendour of the sun; Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty,
An expir'd date and cancel'd ere well begun. That nothing in him seem'd inordinate,

Honour and beauty in the owner's arms, Save sometimes too much wonder of his eye:

Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms, Which having all, all could not satisfy; Beauty itself doth of itself persuade

But poorly rich so wanteth in his store, The eyes of men without an orator;

That cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more. What needeth then apologies be made,

But she that never coped with stranger eyes, To set forth that which is so singular?

Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, Or why is Collatine the publisher

Nor read the subtle shining secrecies
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown Writ in the glassy margents of such books,

From thievish eare, because it is his own? She touch'd no unknown baits, norfear'd no hooks Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sov'reignty

Nor could she moralize his wanton sight Suggested this proud issue of a king;

More, than his eyes were open'd to the light. For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be.

He stories to her ears her husband's fame, Perchance, that envy of so rich a thing

Won in the fields of fruitful Italy; Braving compare, disdainfully did sting

And decks with praises Collatine's high name, His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should Made glorious by his manly chivalry,

With bruised arms and wreaths of victory. The golden lap, which their superiors want. Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express, But some untimely thought did instigate

And wordless, so greets heaven for his success. His all too timeless speed, if none of those. Far from the purpose of his coming thither, His honour, his atlairs, his friends, his state, He makes excuses for his being there; Neglected all, with swift intent he goes

No cloudy show of stormy blust'ring weather, To quench the coal, which in his liver glows. Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear,

O rash false heat wrapt in repentant cold! Till sable night, mother of dread and fear,

Thy hasty spring still blasts, aod ne'er grows old. Upon the world dim darkness doth display, When at Collatium this false lord arrived,

And in her vaulty prison stows the day. Well wis he welcomed by the Roman dame, For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, Within whose face beauty and virtue strived, Intending weariness with heavy spright; Which of them both should underprop her fame. For after supper long he questioned When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame; With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night.

When beauty boasted blushes, in despight, Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight, Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white.

And every one to rest themselves betakes, But beauty, in that white intituled,

Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field;

wakes. Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red, As one of which, doth Tarquin lie revolving Which virtue gave the golden age to gild The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining, Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,

Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining; When shame assail'd, the red should fence the Despair to gain doth traific oft for gaining: white.

And great treasure is the meed proposed, This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,

Though death be adjunct, there's no death supArgued by beauty's red and virtue's white;

posed. of either's colour was the other queen,

Those that much covet are of gain so fond, Proving from world's minority tlieir right; That what they have not (that which they possess) Yet their ambition makes them still to fight : 1 They scatter and unloose it from their bond,

The sov'reignty of either being so great, And so by hoping more, they have but less;

That oft they interchange each other's seat, Or gaining more, the profit of excess This silent war of lilies and of roses,

Is but to surfeit, and such grief sustain, Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field,

That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain. In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses,

The aim of all is but to nurse the life
Where, lest between them both it should be kill’d, With honour, wealth and ease in waining age:-
The coward captive vanquished doth yield And in this aim there is such thwarting strife,

To those two armies, that would let him go, That one for all, or all for one we gage:
Rather than triumph in so false a foe.

As life for honour, in fell battle's rage,
Now thinks he, that her husband's shallow tongue,

Honour for wealth, and oft that wealth doth cost

The death of all, and altogether lost.
The niggard prodigal, that praised her so,
In that high task hath dove her beauty wrong, So that in vent'ring ill, we leave to be
Which far exceeds his barren skill to show. The things we are, for that which we expect:
Therefore that praise, which Collatine doth owe, And this ambitious foul infirmity,

Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, In having much, torments us with defect
In silent wonder of still gazing eyes.

of that we have: so then we dlo neglect

The thing we have, and, all for want of wit, This earthly saint, adored by this devil,

Make something nothing, by augmenting it. Little suspected the false worshipper,

For thoughts aastain'd do seldom dream of evil, Such hazard now must doating Tarquin make, * Birds never limed, no secret bushes fear:' Pawning his honour to obtain his lust: So guiltless she securely gives good cheer And for himself, himself he must forsake;

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Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake? When shall he think to find a stranger just, Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed?

When he himself, himself confounds, betrays, The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed,

To sland'rous tongues the wretched hateful days? And extreme fear can weither fight nor fly,
Now stole upon the time the dead of night,

But coward-like with trembling terror die.
When heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes ; ‘Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire,
No comfortable star did lend his light,

Or lain in ambush to betray my life;
No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries: Or were he not my dear friend, this desire
Now serves the season, that they may surprize Might have excuse to work upon his wife,

The silly lambs; pure thoughts are dead and still, As in revenge or quittal of such strife:
Whilst last and murder wakes to stain and kill. But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend,

The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.
And now this lastful lord leap'd from his bed,
Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm, Shameful it is, ay, if the fact be known;
Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; Hateful it is; there is no hate in loving.
The one sweetly flatters, the other feareth harm: I'll beg her love ; but she is not her own :
But honest fear, bewitch'd with last's foul charm, The worst is but denial, and reproving ;
Doth too, too oft betake him to retire,

My will is strong, past reason's weak removing; Beaten away by brainsick rade desire.

Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw,
His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth,

Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.'
That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly, Thus (graceless) holds he disputation,
Whereat a waxen torch forth with he lighteth, 'Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will,
Which must be load-star to his lustful eye: And with good thoughts makes dispensation,
And to the flame thus speaks advisedly;

Urging the worser sense for 'vantage still ;
* As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, Which in a moment doth confound and kill
So Lucrece must I force to my desire.'

All pare effects, and doth so far proceed, Here pale with fear, he doth premeditate

That what is vile, shews like a virtuous deed. The dangers of his loathsome enterprize;

Quoth he, 'she took me kindly by the hand,
And in his inward mind he doth debate

And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes,
What following sorrow may on this arise: Fearing some bad news from the warlike band,
Then looking scornfully he doth despise

Where her beloved Collatinus lies.
His naked armour of still slaughter'd last, O how her fear did make her colour rise!

And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust. First, red as roses, that on lawn we lay, 'Fair torch burn out thy light, and lend it not

Then white as lawn, the roses took away. To darken her, whose light excelleth thine: And how her hand in my hand being lock'd And die, unliallow'd thoughts, before you blot Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear! With your uncleanness that which is divine. Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd, Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine:

Until her husband's welfare she did hear; Let fair humanity abhor the deed,

Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer, That spots and stains love's modest snow-white That, had Narcissus seen her as she stood, weed.

Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood. "O shame to knighthood, and to shining arms ! 'Why hunt I then for colour or excuses? O foul dishonour to my household's grave! All orators are dumb, when beauty pleads. O impious act, including all foul harms !

Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; A martial man to be sof: fancy's slave!

Love thrives not in the heart, that shadows dreads. True valour still a true respect should have. Affection is my captain, and he leads; Then my digression is so vile, so base,

And when his gaudy banner is display'd, That it will live engraven in my face.

The coward fights, and will not be dismay’d. ‘Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, . Then childish fear, avaunt! Debating, die! And be an eye-sore in my golden coat:

Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age! Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, My heart shall never countermand mine eye, To cypher me, how fondly I did dote:

Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage,
That my posterity, shamed with the note, My part is youth, and beats these from the stage.

Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin, Desire my pilot is beauty my prize;
To wish that I their father had not been.

Then who fears sinking, where such treasure lies? 'What win I, if I gain the thing I seek ?

As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy, Is almost chalk'd by unresisted lust.
Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week? Away he steals with open list’ning ear,
Or sells eternity, to get a toy?

Full of soul hope, and full of fond mistrast:
For one sweet grape, who will the vine destroy? Both which, as servitors to the unjust,

Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, So cross him with their opposite persuasion,

Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down? That now he vows a league, and now invasion. 'If Collatinas dream of my intent,

Within his thought her heavenly image sits,
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage And in the self-same seat sits Collatine,
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent? That eye which looks on her, confounds his wits;
This siege, that hath ingirt his marriage,

That eye which him beholds, as more divine,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, Unto a view so false will not incline :
This dying virtue, this sarviring, shame,

But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame? Which, once corrupted, takes the worser part. "O what excuse can my invention make, And therein heartens up his servile powers, When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed ?! Who fatter'd by their leader's jocund show,

Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,
And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, And gazeth on her yet unstained bed :
Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. The curtains being close, about he walks,
By reprobate desire thus madly led,

Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head,
The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. By their high treason is his heart misled;
The locks between her chamber and his will, Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon,

To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. Each one by him enforced, retires his ward; But as they open, they all rate his ill,

Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun, Which drives the creeping thief to some regard: Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight; The threshold grates the door to have him heard; Even so the curtain drawn, his eyes begun

Night-wand'ring weazels shriek to see him there, To wink, being blinded with a greater light:

They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. Whether it is, that she reflects so bright, As each unwilling portal yields him way,

That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed; Through little vents and crannies of the place, But blind they are, and keep themselves inclosed. The wind wars with his torch to make him stay, O had they in that darksome prison died ! And blows the smoke of it into his face,

Then had they seen the period of their ill; Extinguishing his conduct in this case.

Then Collatine again by Lucrece' side, But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch, In his clear bed might have reposed still.

Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch. But they must ope, this blessed league to kill; And being lighted by the light, he spies

Aud holy-thoughted Lucrece, to their sight Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks ;

Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight. He takes it from the rushes where it lies,

Her lily hand her rosy cheeks lies under, And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks:

Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; As who should say, this glove to wanton tricks Which therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, Is not inured; return again in haste,

Swelling on either side to want his bliss : Thou seest our mistress' ornaments are chaste. Between whose hills, her head intombed is

Where like a virtuous monument she lies, But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him, To be admired of lewd unhallow'd eyes. He in the worst sense construes their denial: The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him, On the green coverlet, whose perfect white

Without the bed her other fair hand was, He takes for accidental things of trial,

Show'd like an April daizy on the grass, Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial ; Which with a ling’ring stay his course doth let. Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light,

With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. Till every minute

the hour his debt.

And canopied in darkness sweetly lay,
'So, so,' quoth he, 'these lets attend the time, *Till they might open to adorn the day.
Like little frosts, that sometimes threat the spring, Her hair like golden threads,play'd with her breath;
To add a more rejoicing to the prime,

O modest wantons! wanton modesty! And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing.

Shewing life's triumph in the map of death, Pain pays the income of each precious thing; And death's dim look in life's mortality. Huge rocks, high winds, stroog pirates, shelves and Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, sands,

As if between them twain there were no strife, The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.'

But that life lived in death, and death in life. Now is he come unto the chamber-door,

Her breasts like ivory globes circled with blue, That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, Which with a yielding latch, and with no more, Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew, Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing he sought. And him by oath they truly honoured. So from himself impiety hath wrought;

These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred, That for his prey to pray he doth begin, Who like a foul usurper went about,

As if the heavens should countenance his sin. From this fair throne to heave the owner out. But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer, What could he see, but mightily he noted ? Having solicited th' eternal power,

What did he note, but strongly he desired ?
That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair, What he beheld, on that he firmly doated,
And they would stand auspicious to the hour; And in his will his wilful eye he tired.
Even there he starts; quoth he, I must deflour! With more than admiration he admired

The powers to whom I pray, abhor this fact, Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
How can they then assist me in the act?

Her coral lips, her suow-white dimpled chin. ‘Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide! As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey, My will is back'd with resolution:

Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied: Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried, So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution; His rage of lust by gazing qualified, Against love's fire, fear's frost hath dissolution. Slack’d, not suppress'd: for standing by her side, The eye of heaven is out, and misty night His eye, which late this mutiny restrains,

Covers the same, that follows sweet delight.' Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins.
This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch, And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,
And with his knee the door he opens wide; Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effecting,
The dove sleeps fast, that this nightowl will catch: In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Thus treason works, ere traitors be espied. Nor children's tears, nor mother's groans respecting,
Who sees the lurking serpent, steps aside; Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting.

But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.

Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking,

His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye; This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade,
His eye commends the leading to his hand; Which like a falcon tow'ring in the skies,
His hand, as proud of such a dignity,

Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade Smoaking with pride, march'd on to make his stand Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount, he dies; On her bare breasts, the heart of all her land; So under his insulting falchion lies

Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale, Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells

Left their round turrets destitute and pale. With trembling fear, as fowls hear falcons' bells. They must'ring to the quiet cabinet,

Lucrece,' quoth he, 'this night I must enjoy thee. Where their dear governess and lady lies, If thou deny, then force must work iny way; Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,

For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee: And fright her with confusion of their cries. That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll slay, She, much amazed, breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes, To kill thine honour with thy life's decay;

Who peeping forth, this tumult to behold, And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,

Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and control'd. Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him. Imagine her as one in dead of night,

So thy surviving husband shall remain Forth from dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, The scornful mark of every open eye;. That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain, Whose grim aspect sets every joint a shaking, Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy; What terror 'tis ! but she in worser taking, And thou the author of their obloquy,

From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes,

The sight, which makes supposed terror true. And sung by children in succeeding times. Wrapt and confounded in a thousand fears, “But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend, Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies : The fault unknown is as a thought unacted; She dares not look, yet winking there appears

A little harm done to a great good end, Quick shifting antics ugly in her eyes,

For lawful policy remains enacted. Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries; The poisonous simple sometimes is compacted

Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights, In purest compound; being so applied,

In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights. His venom in efl'ect is purified. His hand, that yet remains upon her breast, "Then for thy husband; and thy children's sake, (Rude ram! to batter such an ivory wall) Tender my suit, bequeath not to their lot May feel her heart (poor citizen!) distrest, The shame, that from them no device can take, Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall, The blemish that will never be forgot, Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot:

This moves in him more rage, and lesser pity, For marks descried in men's nativity,

To make the breach, and enter this sweet city. Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.' First, like a trumpet, doth his tongne begin

liere with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye, To sound a parley to his heartless foe,

He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause ;
Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin, While she, the picture of true piety,
The reason of this rash alarm to know,

Like a white hind beneath the gripe's sharp claws, Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show ;

Pleads in a wilderness, where are no laws, But she with vehement prayers urgeth still, To the rough beast, that knows no gentle right, Under what colour he commits this ill.

Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite. Thus he replies : ‘The colour in thy face,

Lo, when a black-faced cloud the world does threat, That even for anger makes the lily pale,

In his dim mist the aspiring mountaios hiding, And the red rose blush at her own disgrace,

From earth's dark womb some gentle gust does get, Shall plead for me, and tell my loving tale.

Which blow these pitchy vapours from their biding, Under that colour am I come to scale

Hind'ring their present fall by this dividing:

So his unhallow'd haste her words delays,
Thy never-conquer'd fort; the fault is thine,
For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine.

And moody Pluto winks, while Orpheus plays. “Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide:

Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally,

While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse pauteth; Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night,

Her sad behaviour feeds her vulture fully, Where thou with patience must my will abide ; My will, that marks thee for my earth's delight, His ear her prayer admits, but his heart granteth

A swallowing gulf, that e'en in plenty wanteth; Which I to conquer sought with all my might.

No penetrable entrance to her plaining; But as reproof and reason beat it dead,

Tears harden lust, though marble wears with rainBy thy bright beauty it was newly bred.

ing. 'I see what crosses my attempts will bring; Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd I know what thorns the growing rose defends ; In the remorseless wrinkles of his face: I think the honey guarded with a sting,

Her modest eloquence with sighs is mix'd, All this before-hand counsel comprehends; Which to her oratory adds more grace. But will is deaf, and hears no heedful friends.

She puts the period often from his place, Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,

And midst the sentence so her accent breaks, And doats on what he looks, 'gainst Jaw or duty. That twice she doth begin, ere once she speaks. 'I have debated, even in my soul,

She conjures him by high almighty Jove, What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed; By koighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship’s oath, But nothing can affection's course control, By her untimely tears, her husband's love, Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.

By holy human law, and common troth, I know repentant tears ensue the deed,

By heaven and earth, and all the power of both; Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity;

That to his borrow'd bed he make retire, Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.'

And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.

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