So, fo, quoth he, thefe lets attend the time,
Like little frofts, that sometime threat the spring,
To add a more rejoicing to the prime,

And give the fneaped birds more caufe to fing.
Pain pays the income of each precious thing; [fands,
Huge rocks, high winds, ftrong pirates, fhelves and
The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.

Now is he come unto the chamber-door,
That fhuts him from the heaven of his thought,
Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,
Hath barr'd him from the bleffed thing he fought.
So from himself impiety hath wrought;

That for his prey to pray he doth begin,
As if the heavens fhould countenance his fin.

But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer,
Having folicited th' eternal power,

That his foul thoughts might compafs his fair fair,
And they fhould fland aufpicious to the hour;
Even there he starts, quoth he, I must deflour !
The powers to whom I pray, abhor this fact,
How can they then affift me in the act?

Then love and fortune be my gods, my guide,
My will is back'd with refolution:

Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be try'd,
Black fin is clear'd with abfolution;

Againft love's fire, fear's froft hath diffolution.

The eye of heaven is out, and misty night
Covers the flame, that follows fweet delight.

This faid, the guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,
And with his knee the door he opens wide;

The dove fleeps faft, that this night-owl will catch:
Thus treafon works ere traitors be efpy'd.
Who fees the lurking ferpent, fteps afide;
But the found fleeping, fearing no fuch thing,,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal Ring.

Into the chamber wickedly he ftalks,
And gazeth on her yet unstained bed :
The curtains being close, about he walks,
Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head,
By their high treason in his heart misled:

: Which gives the watch-word to his hand too foon, To draw the cloud that hides the filver moon.

Look as the fair and fiery pointed fun,
Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our fight;
Even fo the curtain drawn, his eyes begun
To.wink, being blinded with a greater light
Whether it is, that the reflects fo bright,

That dazleth them, or else some shame suppos'd;
But blind they are, and keep themselves inclos'd

had they in that darksome prison died! Then had they feen the period of their ill; Then Colatine again by Lucrece fide, In his clear bed, might have repofed ftill.: But they must ope, this bleffed league to kill; And holy-thoughted Lucrece, to their fight Muft fell her joy, her life, her world's delight

Her lily hand her rofy cheeks lies under,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss;

Which therefore angry, feems to part in funders,
Swelling on either fide to want his blifs:
Between whofe hills, her head intombed is;

Where like a virtuous monument the lies,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.

Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet, whofe perfect white
Shew'd like an April dazy on the grafs,
With pearly sweat, refembling due of night.
Her eyes like marigolds had sheath'd their light,
And canopy'd in darkness fweetly lay,

Till they might open to adorn the day.

Her hair like golden threads play'd with her breath;
O modest wantons, wanton modelly!
Showing life's triumph in the map of death,
And death's dim look in life's mortality.
Each in her fleep themfelves fo beautify,

As it between them twain there were no ftrife,
But that life liv'd in death, and death in life.

Her breafts like ivory globes circled with blue,
A pair of maiden' worlds unconquered :
Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
Thefe worlds in Tarquin, new ambition bred,
Who like a foul ufurper went about,

From this fair throne to have the owner out.

What could he fee, but mightily he noted?
What did he note, but ftrongly he defir'd!
What he beheld, on that he firmly doated,
And in his will his wilful eye he tir'd.
With more than admiration he admir'd

Her azure veins, her alabafter skin,

Her coral lips, her fnow-white dimpled chin.

As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conqueft fatisfy'd:"
So o'er this fleeping foul doth Tarquin ftay,
His rage of luft by gazing qualify'd,

Slack'd, not fuppreft; for ftanding by her fide,
His eye which late this mutiny restrains,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins.

And they, like ftraggling flaves for pillage fighting,
Obdurate vaffals, fell exploits effecting,

In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor childrens tears, nor mothers groans refpecting,
Swell in their pride, the onfet ftill expecting.
Anon his beating heart alarum ftriking,

Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking.

His drumming heart chears up his burning eye:
His eye commends the leading to his hand;
His hand, as proud of fuch a dignity,

Smoaking with pride, march'd on to make his ftand
On her bare breafts, the heart of all her land;

Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale,
Left their round turrets defiitute and pale.

They muft'ring to the quiet cabinet,
Where their dear governefs and lady lies,
Do tell her the is dreadfully befet,

And fright her with confufion of their cries.
She much amaz'd breaks ope her lock'd up eyes;
Who peeping forth, this tumult to behold,
Are by his flaming torch dim'd and controul'd.

Imagine her as one in dead of night,

Forth from dull fleep by dreadful fancy waking,

!

That thinks she has beheld fome ghaftly fprite,
Whofe grim afpect fets every joint a shaking,
What terror 'tis but the in worfer taking,
From fleep disturbed, heedfully doth view
The fight, which makes fuppofed terror rue..

Wrapt and confounded in a thousand fears,
Like to a new-kill'd bird fhe trembling lies:
She dares not look, yet winking there appear
Quick shifting anticks ugly in her eyes,,
Such fhadows are the weak brain's forgeries;

Who angry that the eyes fly from their lights,.
In darkness daunts them with more dreadful fights.

His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,
(Rude ram to batter fuch an ivory wall)
May feel her heart (poor citizen!) diftreft,
Wounding itself to death, rife up and fall,
Beating her bulk, that his hand fhakes withal,
This moves in him more rage, and leffer pity,.

To make the breach, and enter this fweet city..

First like a trumpet doth his tongue begin
To found a parley to his heartlefs tce,

Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin„...
The reafon of this alarum to know,

Which he by dumb demeanor feeks to fhow;
But fhe with vehement prayers urgeth ftill,,
Under what colour he commits this ill.

Thus he replies: The colour in thy face,
That even for anger makes the lily pale,
And the red rote blush at her own disgrace,
Shall plead for me, and.tell my loving tale..
Under that colour am I come to fcale