'Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' As falcon to the lure away she flies; The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight; So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes; And, being open'd, threw unwilling light Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd: This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; Her voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to bow; Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly, VOL. III. Y 2 'My tongue cannot express my grief for one, 'Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim; 'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you: But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air Lurk'd like two thieves to rob him of his fair; 'And therefore would he put his bonnet on, They both would strive who first should dry his tears. 'To see his face the lion walk'd along Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him: To recreate himself, when he hath sung, The tiger would be tame and gently hear him: If he had spoke the wolf would leave his prey, 'When he beheld his shadow in the brook, Would bring him mulberries, and ripe-red cherries; 'But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, If he did see his face, why then I know 'Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess With this she falleth in the place she stood, Where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies: Two glasses where herself herself beheld A thousand times, and now no more reflect; Wonder of time,' quoth she, 'this is my spite, It shall be waited on with jealousy, That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe. 'It shall be sparing, and too full of riot, Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures: It shall be raging mad, and silly mild, Make the young old, the old become a child. It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; It shall be merciful, and too severe, And most deceiving when it seems most just; 'It shall be cause of war and dire events, Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy,, By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd And says, within her bosom it shall dwell, She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. 'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy father's guise, (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,) For every little grief to wet his eyes: To grow unto himself was his desire, And so 't is thine; but know, it is as good 'Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: There shall not be one minute in an hour Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.' Thus weary of the world, away she hies, Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHField. THE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater my duty would show greater meantime, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship, to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with all happiness. Your Lordship's in all duty, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. THE ARGUMENT. LUCIUS TARQUINIUS (for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus), after he had caused his own father-in-law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs, not requiring or staying for the people's suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom, went, accompanied with his sons and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During which siege, the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son, in their discourses after supper, every one commended the virtues of his own wife; among whom, Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. In that pleasant humour they all posted to Rome; and intending by their secret and sudden arrival, to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds his wife (though it were late in the night) spinning amongst her maids: the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or in several disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus the victory, and his wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius, being inflamed with Lucrece's beauty, yet smothering his passions for the present, departed with the rest back to the camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself, and was (according to his estate) royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he treacherously stealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and carly in the morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this |