The Rape of Lucrece.
67
O impious Act including all foul harmes,
A martial man to be soft fancies slave,
True valour still a true respect should have:
Then my digression is so vile, so base,
That it will live engraven in my face.
A martial man to be soft fancies slave,
True valour still a true respect should have:
Then my digression is so vile, so base,
That it will live engraven in my face.
Yes though I die, the scandal will survive,
And be an eye-sore in my golden Coat:
Some loathsome dash the Herald will contrive,
To cipher me how fondly I did dote:
That my Posterity sham'd with the note
Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin,
To wish that I their father had not been.
And be an eye-sore in my golden Coat:
Some loathsome dash the Herald will contrive,
To cipher me how fondly I did dote:
That my Posterity sham'd with the note
Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin,
To wish that I their father had not been.
What win I if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy,
Who buys a minutes mirth to waile a week?
Or sells Eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crowne?
Would with the scepter straight be strucken down.
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy,
Who buys a minutes mirth to waile a week?
Or sells Eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crowne?
Would with the scepter straight be strucken down.
If Colatinus dream of my Intent,
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent?
This siege that hath ingirt his marriage,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,
This dying vertue, this surviving shame,
Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame.
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent?
This siege that hath ingirt his marriage,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,
This dying vertue, this surviving shame,
Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame.
O
