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- # THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.
Haft thou commaund? by him that gaue it thee
From a pure heart commaund thy rebell will:
Draw not thy sword to gard iniquitie;
For it was lent thee all that broode to kill.
Thy Princelie office how canst thou fulfill?
When patternd by thy fault fowle sin may say,
He learnd to sin, and thou didst teach the way.
Thinke but how vile a spectacle it were,
To view thy present trespassé in another:
Mens faults do feldome to themselves appeare,
Their own transgressions partiallie they smother,
This guilt would seem death-worthie in thy brother.
O how are they wrapt in with infamies,
That fro their own misdeeds askaunce their eyes?
To thee, to thee, my heaud vp hands appease,
Not to seducing lust thy rash relier:
I sue for exil’d maiesies repeale,
Let him returne, and flattering thoughts retire.
His true respect will prison false desire,
And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eien,
That thou shalt see thy state, and pittie mine.
II. 624—644
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