Properties
- end_line
- 5464
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:48.288Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5383
- text
- Feast-finding minstrels tuning my defame,
V Vill tie the hearers to attend ech line,
How TARQVIN wronged me, 1 COLATINE.
Let my good name, that fence leffe reputation,
For COLATINES deare loue be kept vns potted:
If that be made a theame for disputation,
The branches of another roote are rotted;
And vndeseru'd reproch to him alotted,
That is as cleare from this attaint of mine,
As I ere this was pure to COLATINE.
O vnfeene shame, inuisible disgrace,
O vnfelt sore, crest-wounding priuat scarre!
Reproch is stampt in COLATINVS face,
And TARQVINS eye maie read the mot a farre,
“How he in peace is wounded not in warre.
“Alas how manie beare fuch shamefull blowes,
V Vhich not théselues but he that giues thê knowes.
If
ll. 813—833
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# THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.
If Colatine, thine honor laie in me,
From me by strong assault it is berest:
My Honnie lost, and I a Drone-like Bee,
Haue no perfection of my sommer left,
But rob'd and ransak't by iniurious theft.
> In thy weake Hiue a wandring wa spe hath crept,
> And suck't the Honnie which thy chast Bee kept.
Yet am I guiltie of thy Honors wracke,
Yet for thy Honor did I entertain him,
Comming from thee I could not put him backe:
For it had beene dishonor to disdaine him,
Besides of wearinesse he did complaine him,
And talk't of Vertue (O vnlook't for euill,)
VVhen Vertue is prophan'd in such a Denill.
VVhy should the worme intrude the maiden bud?
Or hatefull Kuckcowes hatch in Sparrows nests?
Or Todes infect faire founts with venome mud?
Or tyrant follie lurke in gentle brests?
Or Kings be breakers of their owne behestes?
*But no perfection is so absolute,
That some impuritie doth not pollute.*
G
II. 834—854
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# THE RAPE OF LVCRECE
The aged man that coffers vp his gold,
Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painefull fits,
And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold,
But like still pining T A N T A L V S he fits,
And vfeleffe barnes the harueft of his wits:
Hauing no other pleasure of his gaine,
But torment that it cannot cure his paine.
So then he hath it when he cannot vfe it,
And leaues it to be maiftred by his yong:
VVho in their pride do presently abuse it,
T heir father was too weake, and they too ftrong
To hold their curfed-bleffed Fortune long.
“The sweets we wish for, turne to lothed fowrs,
“Euen in the moment that we call them ours.
Vnruily blafts wait on the tender fpring,
Vnholfome weeds take roote with precious flowrs,
The Adder hiffes where the fweete birds fing,
VVhat Vertue breedes Iniquity deuours:
VVe haue no good that we can fay is ours,
But ill annexed opportunity
Orkils his life, or elfe his quality.
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