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- # THE RAPE OF LVCRECE
Where now I haue no one to blush with me,
To crofse their armes & hang their heads with mine,
To maske their brows and hide their infamie,
But I alone, alone must fit and pine,
Seasoning the earth with showres of filuer brine;
Mingling my talk with tears, my greef with grones,
Poore wasting monuments of lasting mones.
O night thou furnace of fowle reeking smoke!
Let not the iealous daie behold that face,
WWhich underneath thy blacke all hiding cloke
Immodestly lies martird with disgrace.
Keepe still possession of thy gloomy place,
That all the faults which in thy raigne are made,
May likewise be fepulcherd in thy shade.
Make me not object to the tell-tale day,
The light will shew characterd in my brow,
The storie of fweete chastities decay,
The impious breach of holy wedlocke vowe.
Yea the illiterate that know not how
To cipher what is writ in learned bookes,
Will cote my lochsome trespasse in my lookes.
II. 792—812
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