The Rape of Lucrece.
91
The branches of another root are rotted,
And undeserv'd reproach to him allotted,
That is as clear from this attaint of mine,
As I, ere this, was pure to Colatine.
And undeserv'd reproach to him allotted,
That is as clear from this attaint of mine,
As I, ere this, was pure to Colatine.
O unseen shame! invisible disgrace!
O unfelt sore, crest-wounding private scar!
Reproach is stampt in Colatinus face,
And Tarquin's eye may read the mote afar,
How he in peace is wounded, not in war.
Alas how many bear such shameful blows,
Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows?
O unfelt sore, crest-wounding private scar!
Reproach is stampt in Colatinus face,
And Tarquin's eye may read the mote afar,
How he in peace is wounded, not in war.
Alas how many bear such shameful blows,
Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows?
If, Colatine, thine honor lay in me,
From me by strong assault it is bereft:
My hony lost, and I a Drone-like Bee,
Have no Perfection of my sommer left,
But rob'd and ransackt by injurious theft.
In thy weak hive a wandring waspe hath crept,
And suckt the hony which thy chast Bee kept.
From me by strong assault it is bereft:
My hony lost, and I a Drone-like Bee,
Have no Perfection of my sommer left,
But rob'd and ransackt by injurious theft.
In thy weak hive a wandring waspe hath crept,
And suckt the hony which thy chast Bee kept.
Yet am I guilty of thy honor's wrack,
Yet for thy honor did I entertain him;
Coming from thee, I could not put him back,
For it had been dishonor to disdaine him;
Besides of wearinesse he did complain him:
And talkt of vertue, (O unlookt for evil,
When vertue is prophan'd in such a Devil!)
Yet for thy honor did I entertain him;
Coming from thee, I could not put him back,
For it had been dishonor to disdaine him;
Besides of wearinesse he did complain him:
And talkt of vertue, (O unlookt for evil,
When vertue is prophan'd in such a Devil!)
Why
