Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire,
Ere once she can discharge one word of woe:
At length address'd to answer his desire 2,
She modestly prepares to let them know
Her honour is ta'en prisoner by the foe;
While Collatine and his consorted lords
With sad attention long to hear her words.

And now this pale swan in her watery nest
Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending:
Few words, quoth she, shall fit the trespass best,
Where no excuse can give the fault amending:
In me more woes than words are now depending;
And my laments would be drawn out too long,
To tell them all with one poor tired tongue.

Then be this all the task it hath to say:
Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed
A stranger came, and on that pillow lay
Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head3;
And what wrong else may be imagined

By foul enforcement might be done to me,
From that, alas! thy Lucrece is not free.

2 At length ADDRESS'D to answer his desire,] Address'd, is ready, prepared. So, in King Henry V. :

"To-morrow for the march are we address'd." MALONE. 3 Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed

A stranger came, and on THAT PILLOW LAY

WHERE THOU WAST WONT TO REST THY WEARY HEAD;] "Vestigia viri alieni, Collatine, in lecto sunt tuo." Liv. lib. i. cap. 58. Since the former edition I find these words had been translated by Painter in his novel: "Alas, Collatine, the steppes of another man be now fixed in thy bed." Palace of Pleasure, vol. i. fol. 6. MALONE.

Peradventure the pillow which the lady here speaketh of, was what in a former stanza is denominated the heart of all her land. Tarquin slept not, it is to be presumed, though, like Iachimo, he had that was well worth watching. AMNER.

For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight,
With shining falchion in my chamber came
A creeping creature, with a flaming light,
And softly cry'd, Awake, thou Roman dame,
And entertain my love; else lasting shame
On thee and thine this night I will inflict,
If thou my love's desire do contradict.

For some hard-favour'd groom of thine, quoth he,
Unless thou yoke thy liking to my will,

I'll murder straight, and then I'll slaughter thee,
And swear I found you where you did fulfil
The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill
The lechers in their deed: this act will be
My fame, and thy perpetual infamy.

With this I did begin to start and cry,
And then against my heart he set his sword;
Swearing, unless I took all patiently,
I should not live to speak another word:
So should my shame still rest upon record;

And never be forgot in mighty Rome
The adulterate death of Lucrece and her

groom.

Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak,
And far the weaker with so strong a fear:
My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak;
No rightful plea might plead for justice there:
His scarlet lust came evidence to swear

That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes,
And when the judge is rob'd, the prisoner dies.

O, teach me how to make mine own excuse!
Or, at the least, this refuge let me find;
Though my gross blood be stain'd with this abuse,
Immaculate and spotless is my mind;

That was not forc'd; that never was inclin'd

To accessary yieldings, but still pure
Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.

Lo here, the hopeless merchant of this loss,
With head declin'd, and voice damm'd up with woe,
With sad-set eyes, and wretched arms across,
From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow
The grief away, that stops his answer so:
But wretched as he is, he strives in vain ;
What he breathes out, his breath drinks up again.

As through an arch the violent roaring tide
Out-runs the eye that doth behold his haste*,
Yet in the eddy boundeth in his pride
Back to the strait that forc'd him on so fast;
In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past3:
Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw,
To push grief on, and back the same grief draw.

5

Which speechless woe of his, poor she attendeth,
And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh :
Dear lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth
Another power; no flood by raining slaketh.
My woe too sensible thy passion maketh
More feeling-painful: let it then suffice
To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes.

4 As through an arch the violent roaring tide

Out-runs the eye that doth behold his haste, &c.] So, in Coriolanus:

"Ne'er through an arch so hurry'd the blown tide, "As the recomforted through the gates." MALONE. 5 In rage sent out, recall'd IN rage, being past :] Should we

not read:

"In rage sent out, recall'd, the rage being past."

FARMER.

6 To drown ONE woe, one pair of weeping eyes.] The quarto has:

"To drown on woe-."

On and one are perpetually confounded in old English books.

And for my sake, when I might charm thee so, For she that was thy Lucrece,-now attend me; Be suddenly revenged on my foe,

Thine, mine, his own; suppose thou dost defend

me

From what is past; the help that thou shalt lend me
Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die :
For sparing justice feeds iniquity'.

But ere I name him, you fair lords, quoth she,
(Speaking to those that came with Collatine,)
Shall plight your honourable faiths to me,
With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine;
For 'tis a meritorious fair design,

To chase injustice with revengeful arms:
Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies'
harms 8.

At this request, with noble disposition
Each present lord began to promise aid,
As bound in knighthood to her imposition,
Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd.
But she, that yet her sad task hath not said,
The protestation stops. O speak, quoth she,
How may this forced stain be wip'd from me?

What is the quality of mine offence,
Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance?
May my pure mind with the foul act dispense,

See vol. xv. p. 291, n. 6. The former does not seem to have any
meaning here. The edition of 1600 has-one woe.
We might
read :

"To drown in woe one pair of weeping eyes." MALONE. 7 For sparing justice feeds iniquity.] So, in Romeo and Juliet:

66

Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill." MALONE. 8 Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies' harms.] Here one of the laws of chivalry is somewhat prematurely introduced.

MALONE.
5

My low-declined honour to advance?
May any terms acquit me from this chance?
The poison'd fountain clears itself again;
And why not I from this compelled stain??

9 The poison'd fountain clears itself again;

And why not I from this compelled stain ?] There are perhaps few who would not have acquiesced in the justice of this reasoning. It did not however, as we learn from history, satisfy this admired heroine of antiquity. Her conduct on this occasion has been the subject of much speculation. It is not alledged by any of the historians that actual violence was offered to her. Δια μεν εν ταυτ' (says Dion) ΟΥΚ ΑΚΟΥΣΑ δὴ ἐμοιχεύθη. Why then, it is asked, did she not suffer death rather than submit to her ravisher? An ingenious French writer thinks she killed herself too late to be entitled to any praise. [Les Oeuvres de Sarazin, p. 182, edit. 1694.]—A venerable father of the church (St. Austin) censures her still more severely, concluding his strictures on her conduct with this dilemma: "Ita hæc causa ex utroque latere coarctatur; ut, si extenuatur homicidium, adulterium confirmetur; si purgatur adulterium, homicidium cumulatur; nec omnino invenitur exitus, ubi dicitur, si adulterata, cur laudata? si pudica, cur occisa?"-On these words a writer of the last century [Renatus Laurentius de la Barre] formed the following Latin Epigram:

Si tibi forte fuit, Lucretia, gratus adulter,
Immerito ex meritâ præmia cæde petis:
Sin potius casto vis est allata pudori,

Quis furor est hostis crimine velle mori ?
Frustra igitur laudem captas, Lucretia; namque
Vel furiosa ruis, vel scelerata cadis.

"If Tarquin's guilt, Lucretia, pleas'd thy soul,
"How could thy blood wash out a stain so foul?
"But if by downright force the joy he had,
"To die on his account, must prove you mad:
"Then be thy death no more the matron's pride;
"You liv'd a strumpet, or a fool you died.”

The ladies must determine the question.

I am indebted to a friend for perhaps the best defence that can be made for this celebrated suicide:

Heu! misera, ante alias, Lucretia! rumor iniquus

Me referet pactam me violâsse fidem?
Criminis et socius fingetur servus? Imago
Vincit, et horrendis cedo, tyranne, minis.