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


¶VVhat win I if I gaine the thing I
seeke?
¶A dreame, a breath, a froth of fleeting ioy,
¶VVho buies a minutes mirth to waile a weeke?
¶Or
sels eternitie to get a toy?
215For one
sweete grape who will the vine de
stroy?
¶_Or what fond begger, but to touch the crowne,
¶_VVould with the
scepter
straight be
strokē down?
¶If
COLATINVS dreame of my intent,
¶VVill he not wake, and in a de
sp'rate rage
220Po
st hither, this vile purpo
se to preuent?
¶This
siege that hath ingirt his marriage,
¶This blur to youth, this
sorrow to the
sage,
¶_This dying vertue, this
suruiuing
shame,
¶_VVho
se crime will beare an euer-during blame.
225O what excu
se can my inuention make
¶VVhen thou
shalt charge me with
so blacke a deed?
¶VVil not my tongue be mute, my fraile ioints
shake?
¶Mine eies forgo their light, my fal
se hart bleede?
¶The guilt beeing great, the feare doth
still exceede;
230_And extreme feare can neither fight nor flie,
¶_But cowardlike with trembling terror die.
¶Had
COLATINVS kild my
sonne or
sire,
¶Or laine in ambu
sh to betray my life,
¶Or were he not my deare friend, this de
sire
235Might haue excu
se to worke vppon his wife:
¶As in reuenge or quittall of
such
strife.
¶_But as he is my kin
sman, my deare friend,
¶_The
shame and fault finds no excu
se nor end.
¶Shamefull it is: I, if the fact be knowne,
240Hatefull it is: there is no hate in louing,
¶Ile beg her loue: but
she is not her owne:
¶The wor
st is but deniall and reproouing.
¶My will is
strong pa
st rea
sons weake remoouing:
¶_VVho feares a
sentence or an old mans
saw,
245_Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.

