Properties
- end_line
- 6556
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:48.288Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6446
- text
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# THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
Looke looke how listning **PRIAM** wets his eyes,
To see those borrowed teares that **SINON** sheeds,
**PRIAM** why art thou old, and yet not wise?
For euerie teare he fals a Troian bleeds:
His eye drops fire, no water shence proceeds,
Those roud clear pearls of his that moue thy pitty,
Are bals of quenchlesse fire to burne thy City.
Such Deuils steale effects from lightlesse Hell,
For **SINON** in his fire doth quake with cold,
And in that cold hot burning fire doth dwell,
These contraries such vnitie do hold,
Only to flatter fooles, and make them bold,
So **PRIAMS** trust false **SINONS** teares doth flatter,
That he finds means to burne his Troy with water.
Here all inrag’d such passion her assailes,
That patience is quite beaten from her breast,
Shee tears the fenceleffe **SINON** with her nailes,
Comparing him to that vahappie guest,
VVhose deede hath made herfelse, herfelse detest,
At last shee smilingly with this giues ore,
Foole fool, quoth she, his wounds wil not be fore.
L 2
ll. 1548—1568
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# THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.
Thus ebs and flows the currant of her sorrow,
And time doth wearie time with her complayning,
Shee looks for night, & then shee longs for morrow,
And both shee thinks too long with her remayning.
Short time seems long, in sorrowes sharp sustayning,
Though wo be heauie, yet it se'dome sleepes,
And they that watch, see time, how slow it creeps.
VVhich all this time hath ouerflipt her thought,
That shee with painted Images hath spent,
Being from the feeling of her own griefe brought,
By deepe surmife of others detriment,
Loofing her woes in shews of discontent:
It easeth some, though none it euer cured,
To thinke their dolour others haue endured.
But now the mindfull Messenger come backe,
Brings home his Lord and other companie.
VVho finds his LVCRECE clad in mourning black,
And round about her teare-diftained eye
Blew circles stream'd, like Rain-bows in the skie.
Thefe watergalls in her dim Element,
Foretell new stormes to thofe alreadie spent.
VVhich
11. 1569—1589
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# THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
VVhich when her fad beholding husband faw,
Amazedlie in her fad face he fares:
Her eyes though fod in tears look'd red and raw,.
Her liuelie colour kil'd with deadlie cares,
He hath no power to aske her how thee fares,
Both flood like old acquaintance in a trance,
Met far from home, wondring ech others chance.
At laft he takes her by the bloudleffe hand,
And thus begins: what vncouth ill euent
Hath thee befalne, that thou doft trembling ftand?
Sweet loue what spite hath thy faire colour fpent?
VVhy art thou thus attir'd in discontent?
Vnmaske deare deare, this moodie heauineffe,
And tell thy griefe, that we may giue redreffe.
Three times with fighes thee giues her forrow fire,
Ere once thee can discharge one word of woe:
At length addreft to answer his defire,
Shee modestlie prepares, to let them know
Her Honor is tane prisoner by the Foe,
VVhile COLATINE and his comforted Lords,
VVith fad attention long to heare her words.
L 3
ll. 1590—1610
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# THE RAPE OF LVCRECE
And now this pale Swan in her warrie nest,
Begins the sad Dirge of her certaine ending,
Few words (quoth shee) shall fit the trespasse best,
VVhere no excuse can giue the fault amending.
In me moe woes then words are now depending,
And my laments would be drawn out too long,
To tell them all with one poore tired tong.
Then be this all the taske it hath to say,
Deare husband in the interest of thy bed
Astranger came, and on that pillow lay,
VVhere thou wast wont to rest thy wearie head,
And what wrong else may be imagined,
By foule enforcement might be done to me,
From that (alas) thy LVCRECE is not free.
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