Lucrece (Quarto, 1594)
Author: William ShakespeareEditor: Hardy M. CookNot Peer Reviewed


¶Deare Lord of that deare iewell I haue lo
st,
¶VVhat legacie
shall I bequeath to thee?
¶My re
solution loue
shall be thy bo
st,
¶By who
se example thou reueng'd may
st be.
1195How
TARQVIN mu
st be v
s'd, read it in me,
¶_My
selfe thy friend will kill my
selfe thy fo,
¶_And for my
sake
serue thou fal
se
TARQVIN so.
¶This briefe abridgement of my will I make,
¶My
soule and bodie to the skies and ground:
1200My re
solution Husband doe thou take,
¶Mine Honor be the knifes that makes my wound,
¶My
shame be his that did my Fame confound;
¶_And all my Fame that liues disbur
sed be,
¶_To tho
se that liue and thinke no
shame of me.
1205Thou
COLATINE shalt ouer
see this will,
¶How was I ouer
seene that thou
shalt
see it?
¶My bloud
shall wa
sh the
sclander of mine ill,
¶My liues foule deed my lifes faire end
shall free it.
¶Faint not faint heart, but
stoutlie
say
so be it,
1210_Yeeld to my hand, my hand
shall conquer thee,
¶_Thou dead, both die, and both
shall victors be.
¶This plot of death when
sadlie
shee had layd,
¶And wip't the brini
sh pearle from her bright eies,
¶VVith vntun'd tongue
shee hoar
slie cals her mayd,
1215VVho
se
swift obedience to her mi
stre
sse hies.
¶"For fleet-wing'd duetie with thoghts feathers flies,
¶_Poore
LVCRECE cheeks vnto her maid
seem
so,
¶_As winter meads when
sun doth melt their
snow.
¶Her mi
stre
sse
shee doth giue demure good morrow,
1220VVith
soft
slow-tongue, true marke of mode
stie,
¶And
sorts a
sad looke to her Ladies
sorrow,
¶(For why her face wore
sorrowes liuerie.)
¶But dur
st not aske of her audaciou
slie,
¶_VVhy her two
suns were clowd ecclip
sed
so,
1225_Nor why her faire cheeks ouer-wa
sht with woe.

