Speeches (Lines) for Shakespeare
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# | Act, Scene, Line (Click to see in context) |
Speech text |
1 |
TO THE
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The love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof
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Your lordship's in all duty,
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Lucius Tarquinius, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus,
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From the besieged Ardea all in post,
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Haply that name of 'chaste' unhappily set
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For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
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O happiness enjoy'd but of a few!
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Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
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Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty
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But some untimely thought did instigate
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When at Collatium this false lord arrived,
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But beauty, in that white intituled,
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This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
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Their silent war of lilies and of roses,
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Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue,—
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This earthly saint, adored by this devil,
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For that he colour'd with his high estate,
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But she, that never coped with stranger eyes,
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He stories to her ears her husband's fame,
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Far from the purpose of his coming hither,
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For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
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As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
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Those that much covet are with gain so fond,
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The aim of all is but to nurse the life
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So that in venturing ill we leave to be
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Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make,
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Now stole upon the time the dead of night,
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And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed,
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30 |
His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth,
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Here pale with fear he doth premeditate
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'Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not
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'O shame to knighthood and to shining arms!
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'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,
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'What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
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'If Collatinus dream of my intent,
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'O, what excuse can my invention make,
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'Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire,
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'Shameful it is; ay, if the fact be known:
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Thus, graceless, holds he disputation
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41 |
Quoth he, 'She took me kindly by the hand,
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'And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd
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'Why hunt I then for colour or excuses?
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'Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating, die!
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As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear
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Within his thought her heavenly image sits,
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And therein heartens up his servile powers,
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The locks between her chamber and his will,
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As each unwilling portal yields him way,
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And being lighted, by the light he spies
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But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;
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'So, so,' quoth he, 'these lets attend the time,
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Now is he come unto the chamber-door,
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But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer,
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'Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide!
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This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,
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Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,
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Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun,
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O, had they in that darksome prison died!
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Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under,
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Without the bed her other fair hand was,
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Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath;
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Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue,
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What could he see but mightily he noted?
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As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
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And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,
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His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye,
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They, mustering to the quiet cabinet
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Imagine her as one in dead of night
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Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears,
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His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,—
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First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin
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Thus he replies: 'The colour in thy face,
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'Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide:
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'I see what crosses my attempt will bring;
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'I have debated, even in my soul,
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This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade,
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'Lucrece,' quoth he,'this night I must enjoy thee:
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'So thy surviving husband shall remain
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'But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend:
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'Then, for thy husband and thy children's sake,
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Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye
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But when a black-faced cloud the world doth threat,
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Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally,
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Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd
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She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
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Quoth she, 'Reward not hospitality
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'My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare me:
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'All which together, like a troubled ocean,
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'In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee:
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'How will thy shame be seeded in thine age,
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'This deed will make thee only loved for fear;
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'And wilt thou be the school where Lust shall learn?
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'Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee,
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'Think but how vile a spectacle it were,
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'To thee, to thee, my heaved-up hands appeal,
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'Have done,' quoth he: 'my uncontrolled tide
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'Thou art,' quoth she, 'a sea, a sovereign king;
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'So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave;
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'So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state'—
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This said, he sets his foot upon the light,
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For with the nightly linen that she wears
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But she hath lost a dearer thing than life,
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Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk,
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O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit
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And then with lank and lean discolour'd cheek,
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So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome,
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She says, her subjects with foul insurrection
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Even in this thought through the dark night he stealeth,
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He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence;
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He thence departs a heavy convertite;
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'They think not but that every eye can see
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Here she exclaims against repose and rest,
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'O comfort-killing Night, image of hell!
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'O hateful, vaporous, and foggy Night!
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'With rotten damps ravish the morning air;
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'Were Tarquin Night, as he is but Night's child,
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'Where now I have no one to blush with me,
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119 |
'O Night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke,
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120 |
'Make me not object to the tell-tale Day!
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121 |
'The nurse, to still her child, will tell my story,
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'Let my good name, that senseless reputation,
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123 |
'O unseen shame! invisible disgrace!
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124 |
'If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me,
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125 |
'Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wrack;
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126 |
'Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud?
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'The aged man that coffers-up his gold
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'So then he hath it when he cannot use it,
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'Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring;
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'O Opportunity, thy guilt is great!
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'Thou makest the vestal violate her oath;
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'Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame,
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'When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend,
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'The patient dies while the physician sleeps;
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'When Truth and Virtue have to do with thee,
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Guilty thou art of murder and of theft,
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'Mis-shapen Time, copesmate of ugly Night,
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'Why hath thy servant, Opportunity,
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'Time's glory is to calm contending kings,
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'To fill with worm-holes stately monuments,
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'To show the beldam daughters of her daughter,
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142 |
'Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage,
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143 |
'Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity,
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144 |
'Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances,
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'Let him have time to tear his curled hair,
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'Let him have time to see his friends his foes,
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'O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad,
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'The baser is he, coming from a king,
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'The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire,
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'Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools!
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'In vain I rail at Opportunity,
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'Poor hand, why quiver'st thou at this decree?
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153 |
This said, from her be-tumbled couch she starteth,
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154 |
'In vain,' quoth she, 'I live, and seek in vain
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'O, that is gone for which I sought to live,
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'Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not know
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157 |
'Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought,
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158 |
'I will not poison thee with my attaint,
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159 |
By this, lamenting Philomel had ended
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160 |
Revealing day through every cranny spies,
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161 |
Thus cavils she with every thing she sees:
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So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care,
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The little birds that tune their morning's joy
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'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore;
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'You mocking-birds,' quoth she, 'your tunes entomb
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'Come, Philomel, that sing'st of ravishment,
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'And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part,
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'And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day,
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As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze,
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170 |
'To kill myself,' quoth she, 'alack, what were it,
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'My body or my soul, which was the dearer,
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'Her house is sack'd, her quiet interrupted,
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'Yet die I will not till my Collatine
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'My honour I'll bequeath unto the knife
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'Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost,
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'This brief abridgement of my will I make:
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'Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this will;
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This Plot of death when sadly she had laid,
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Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow,
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But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set,
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A pretty while these pretty creatures stand,
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For men have marble, women waxen, minds,
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Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain,
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No man inveigh against the wither'd flower,
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The precedent whereof in Lucrece view,
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By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak
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'But tell me, girl, when went'—and there she stay'd
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'But, lady, if your maid may be so bold,
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'Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen:
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Her maid is gone, and she prepares to write,
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At last she thus begins: 'Thou worthy lord
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Here folds she up the tenor of her woe,
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Besides, the life and feeling of her passion
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To see sad sights moves more than hear them told;
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Her letter now is seal'd, and on it writ
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The homely villain court'sies to her low;
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When, silly groom! God wot, it was defect
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His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
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But long she thinks till he return again,
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At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece
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A thousand lamentable objects there,
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There might you see the labouring pioner
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In great commanders grace and majesty
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In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what art
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There pleading might you see grave Nestor stand,
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About him were a press of gaping faces,
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Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head,
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For much imaginary work was there;
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And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy
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And from the strand of Dardan, where they fought,
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To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come,
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In her the painter had anatomized
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On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes,
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214 |
'Poor instrument,' quoth she,'without a sound,
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'Show me the strumpet that began this stir,
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216 |
'Why should the private pleasure of some one
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'Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies,
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218 |
Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes:
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She throws her eyes about the painting round,
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In him the painter labour'd with his skill
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But, like a constant and confirmed devil,
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The well-skill'd workman this mild image drew
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This picture she advisedly perused,
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224 |
'It cannot be,' quoth she,'that so much guile'—
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'For even as subtle Sinon here is painted.
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'Look, look, how listening Priam wets his eyes,
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'Such devils steal effects from lightless hell;
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Here, all enraged, such passion her assails,
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Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow,
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Which all this time hath overslipp'd her thought,
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But now the mindful messenger, come back,
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Which when her sad-beholding husband saw,
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At last he takes her by the bloodless hand,
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234 |
Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire,
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And now this pale swan in her watery nest
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236 |
'Then be this all the task it hath to say
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'For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight,
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'For some hard-favour'd groom of thine,' quoth he,
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239 |
'With this, I did begin to start and cry;
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'Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak,
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'O, teach me how to make mine own excuse!
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242 |
Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss,
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As through an arch the violent roaring tide
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Which speechless woe of his poor she attendeth,
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'And for my sake, when I might charm thee so,
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'But ere I name him, you fair lords,' quoth she,
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At this request, with noble disposition
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248 |
'What is the quality of mine offence,
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With this, they all at once began to say,
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Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break,
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Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast
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Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed,
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And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide
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About the mourning and congealed face
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'Daughter, dear daughter,' old Lucretius cries,
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256 |
'Poor broken glass, I often did behold
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257 |
'O time, cease thou thy course and last no longer,
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258 |
By this, starts Collatine as from a dream,
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259 |
The deep vexation of his inward soul
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260 |
Yet sometime 'Tarquin' was pronounced plain,
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The one doth call her his, the other his,
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262 |
'O,' quoth Lucretius,' I did give that life
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263 |
Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side,
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264 |
But now he throws that shallow habit by,
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265 |
'Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe?
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266 |
'Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart
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267 |
'Now, by the Capitol that we adore,
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This said, he struck his hand upon his breast,
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269 |
When they had sworn to this advised doom,
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