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


¶And from the
strond of DARDAN where they fought,
¶To
SIMOIS reedie bankes the red bloud ran,
¶VVho
se waues to imitate the battaile
sought
¶VVith
swelling ridges, and their rankes began
1440To breake vppon the galled
shore, and than
¶_Retire againe, till meeting greater ranckes
¶_They ioine, &
shoot their fome at SIMOIS bancks.
¶To this well painted peece is
LVCRECE come,
¶To find a face where all di
stre
sse is
steld,
1445Manie
shee
sees, where cares haue carued
some,
¶But none where all di
stre
sse and dolor dweld,
¶Till
shee di
spayring
HECVBA beheld,
¶_Staring on
PRIAMS wounds with her old eyes,
¶_VVhich bleeding vnder PIRRHVS proud foot lies.
1450In her the Painter had anathomiz'd
¶Times ruine, beauties wracke, and grim cares raign,
¶Her cheeks with chops and wrincles were di
sguiz'd,
¶Of what
shee was, no
semblance did remaine:
¶Her blew bloud chang'd to blacke in euerie vaine,
1455_VVanting the
spring, that tho
se
shrunke pipes had
(fed,
¶_Shew'd life impri
son'd in a bodie dead.
¶On this
sad
shadow
LVCRECE spends her eyes,
¶And
shapes her
sorrow to the Beldames woes,
¶VVho nothing wants to an
swer her but cries,
1460And bitter words to ban her cruell Foes.
¶The Painter was no God to lend her tho
se,
¶_And therefore LVCRECE
swears he did her wrong,
¶_To giue her
so much griefe, and not a tong.
¶Poore In
strument (quoth
shee) without a
sound,
1465Ile tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue,
¶And drop
sweet Balme in
PRIAMS painted wound,
¶And raile on
PIRRHVS that hath done him wrong;
¶And with my tears quench Troy that burns
so long;
¶_And with my knife
scratch out the angrie eyes,
1470_Of all the Greekes that are thine enemies.

