Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Hardy M. Cook
Not Peer Reviewed

Lucrece (Quarto, 1594)


THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.

1170Her house is sackt, her quiet interrupted,
Her mansion batterd by the enemie,
Her sacred temple spotted, spoild, corrupted,
Groslie ingirt with daring infamie.
Then let it not be cald impietie,
1175If in this blemisht fort I make some hole,
Through which I may conuay this troubled soule.

Yet die I will not, till my COLATINE
Haue heard the cause of my vntimelie death,
That he may vow in that sad houre of mine,
1180Reuenge on him that made me stop my breath,
My stained bloud to TARQVIN ile bequeath,
VVhich by him tainted, shall for him be spent,
And as his due writ in my testament.

My Honor ile bequeath vnto the knife
1185That wounds my bodie so dishonored,
Tis Honor to depriue dishonord life,
The one will liue, the other being dead.
So of shames ashes shall my Fame be bred,
For in my death I murther shamefull scorne,
1190My shame so dead, mine honor is new borne.
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