| Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue
A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,
Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred;
Who, like a foul usurper, went about
From this fair throne to heave the owner out

What could he see but mightily he noted?
What did he note but strongly he desir'd?
What he beheld, on that he firmly doted,
And in his will his wilful eye he tir'd.
With more than admiration he admir'd
Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin
As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied,
So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,
His rage of lust by gazing qualified;
Slack'd, not suppress'd; for standing by her
side,

His eye, which late this mutiny restrains,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins:

And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,

Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans respect-

ing,

Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: Anon his beating heart, alarum striking. Gives the hot charge and bids them do their

liking.

His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye,
His eye commends the leading to his hand;
His hand, as proud of such a dignity,
Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his
stand

On her bare breast, the heart of all her land;
Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand di

scale,

Left their round turrets destitute and pale.

They, mustering to the quiet cabinet
Where their dear governess and lady lies,
Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,
And fright her with confusion of their cries:
She, much amaz'd, breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes,
Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold,
Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and controll'd

Imagine her as one in dead of night
From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking.
That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite,
Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking;
What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking,

From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view
The sight which makes supposed terror true.

'I see what crosses my attempt will bring;
I know what thorns the growing rose defends;
I think the honey guarded with a sting;
All this, beforehand, counsel comprehends:
But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends;
Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or
duty.

I have debated, even in my soul,

What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed ;

But nothing can affection's course control,
Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.
I know repentant tears ensue the deed,

Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity;
Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.'

This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade,
Which like a falcon towering in the skies,
Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade,
Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he
dies:

So under his insulting falchion lies
Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells 510
With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcons'
bells.

Lucrece,' quoth he, 'this night I must enjoy thee:

If thou deny, then force must work my way,
For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee:
That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll
slay,

To kill thine honour with thy life's decay;
And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,
Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace
him.

Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,
A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth:
His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth
No penetrable entrance to her plaining:
Tears harden lust though marble wear with
raining.

Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd
In the remorseless wrinkles of his face;
Her modest eloquence with sighs is mix'd,
Which to her oratory adds more grace.
She puts the period often from his place;

560

Think but how vile a spectacle it were,

tended;

Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee; Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended;

He is no woodman that doth bend his bow 580 To strike a poor unseasonable doe.

'My husband is thy friend, for his sake spare me;

Thyself art mighty, for thine own sake leave me ; Myself a weakling, do not then ensnare me; Thou look'st not like deceit, do not deceive me : My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave thee.

If ever man were mov'd with woman's moans,

Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans:

591

'All which together, like a troubled ocean,
Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart,
To soften it with their continual motion;
For stones dissolv'd to water do convert.
O! if no harder than a stone thou art,
Melt at my tears and be compassionate;
Soft pity enters at an iron gate.

In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee;
Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame?
To all the host of heaven I complain me,
Thou wrong'st his honour, wound'st his princely

name:

599

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 govern every thing.

'How will thy shame be seeded in thine age,
When thus thy vices bud before thy spring!
If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage,
What dar'st thou not when once thou art a king?
O! be remember'd; no outrageous thing

From vassal actors can be wip'd away;
Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay.

'This deed will make thee only lov'd for fear;
But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love: 611
With foul offenders thou perforce must bear,
When they in thee the like offences prove:
If but for fear of this, thy will remove;

For princes are the glass, the school, the book,
Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look.

'And wilt thou be the school where lust shall learn?

Must he in thee read lectures of such shame?
Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern
Authority for sin, warrant for blame,
To privilege dishonour in thy name?

620

Thou back'st reproach against long-living laud,

And mak'st fair reputation but a bawd.

'Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee,
From a pure heart command thy rebel will:
Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity,
For it was lent thee all that brood to kill.
Thy princely office how canst thou fulfil,
When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul sin may say,
He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the
way?

630

Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear: Their own transgressions partially they smother: This guilt would seem death-worthy in th brother.

O! how are they wrapp'd in with infamies That from their own misdeeds askance their

eyes.

'To thee, to thee, my heav'd-up hands appeal,
Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier;
I sue for exil'd majesty's repeal ;
Let him return, and flattering thoughts retire:
His true respect will prison false desire,

And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eye
That thou shalt see thy state and pity mine."
Have done,' quoth he; 'my uncontrolled tide
Turns not, but swells the higher by this let.
Small lets are soon blown out, huge fires abide
And with the wind in greater fury fret:
The petty streams that pay a daily debt

To their salt sovereign, with their fresh fals haste

Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.' 'Thou art,' quoth she, 'a sea, a sovereign king; And, lo! there falls into thy boundless flood Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning, If all these petty ills shall change thy good, Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood. Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hears'd, And not the puddle in thy sea dispers'd.

So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave;

Thou nobly base, they basely dignified;
Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave:
Thou loathed in their shame, they in thy pride:
The lesser thing should not the greater hide;

The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot,
But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root.

'So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state'— 'No more,' quoth he; 'by heaven, I will not

hear thee:

Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate, Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear

thee;

That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee

Unto the base bed of some rascal groom. To be thy partner in this shameful doom.' This said, he sets his foot upon the light, For light and lust are deadly enemies : Shame folded up in blind concealing night, When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize. The wolf hath seiz'd his prey, the poor lamb cries;

Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd

Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold:

For with the nightly linen that she wears
He pens her piteous clamours in her head,
Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears
That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed.
O! that prone lust should stain so pure a bed:
The spots whereof could weeping purify.
Her tears should drop on them perpetually.

And then with lank and lean discolour'd cheek, With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless расе,

Feeble Desire, all recreant, poor, and meek, 710
Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case:
The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with
Grace,

For there it revels; and when that decays,
The guilty rebel for remission prays.

So fares it with this fault ful lord of Rome,
Who this accomplishment so hotly chas'd;
For now against himself he sounds this doom,
That through the length of times he stands dis-
grac'd;

Besides, his soul's fair temple is defac'd;

To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares,
To ask the spotted princess how she fares. 721

She says, her subjects with foul insurrection
Have batter'd down her consecrated wall,
And by their mortal fault brought in subjection
Her immortality, and made her thrall
To living death and pain perpetual:

Which in her prescience she controlled still, But her foresight could not forestall their will.

He thence departs a heavy convertite, She there remains a hopeless castaway; He in his speed looks for the morning light, She prays she never may behold the day; 'For day,' quoth she, 'night's scapes doth open lay,

And my true eyes have never practis'd how To cloak offences with a cunning brow.

'They think not but that every eye can see 750 The same disgrace which they themselves behold;

And therefore would they still in darkness be,
To have their unseen sin remain untold;
For they their guilt with weeping will unfold,
And grave, like water that doth eat in steel,
Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.'
Here she exclaims against repose and rest,
And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind.
She wakes her heart by beating on her breast,
And bids it leap from thence where it may find
Some purer chest to close so pure a mind.
Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her
spite

Against the unseen secrecy of night:

761

'O comfort-killing Night, image of hell!
Dim register and notary of shame!
Black stage for tragedies and murders fell!
Vast sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame!
Blind muffled bawd! dark harbour for defame!
Grim cave of death! whispering conspirator
With close-tongu'd treason and the ravisher!
'O hateful, vaporous, and foggy Night!
Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime,
Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light,
Make war against proportion'd course of time;
Or if thou wilt permit the sun to climb

771

His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed, Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head. 'With rotten damps ravish the morning air; Let their exhal'd unwholesome breaths make : sick