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And still on him she gazed； and gazing still
Such signs of truth in his plain face she spied
That she concludes the picture was belied。
'It cannot be'； quoth she； 'that so much guile'…
She would have said 'can lurk in such a look'；
But Tarquin's shape came in her mind the while；
And from her tongue 'can lurk' from 'cannot' took；
'It cannot be' she in that sense forsook；
And turned it thus； 'It cannot be； I find；
But such a face should bear a wicked mind；
'For even as subtle Sinon here is painted；
So sober…sad； so weary and so mild；
As if with grief or travail he had fainted；
To me came Tarquin armed to beguild
With outward honesty； but yet defiled
With inward vice。 As Priam him did cherish；
So did I Tarquin； so my Troy did perish。
Look； look； how list'ning Priam wets his eyes；
To see those borrowed tears that Sinon sheds。
Priam； why art thou old and yet not wise？
For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds；
His eye drops fire； no water thence proceeds；
Those round clear pearls of his that move thy pity
Are balls of quenchless fire to burn thy city。
'Such devils steal effects from lightless hell；
For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold；
And in that cold hot…burning fire doth dwell；
These contraries such unity do hold
Only to flatter fools and make them bold；
So Priam's trust false Sinon's tears doth flatter
That he finds means to burn his Troy with water。'
Here； all enraged； such passion her assails；
That patience is quite beaten from her breast。
She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails；
Comparing him to that unhappy guest
Whose deed hath made herself herself
At last she smilingly with this gives o'er：
'Fool； fool！' quoth she； 'his wounds will not be sore。'
Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow；
And time doth weary time with her complaining。
She looks for night； and then she longs for morrow；
And both she thinks too long with her remaining。
Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining；
Though woe be heavy； yet it seldom sleeps；
And they that watch see time how slow it creeps。
Which all this time hath overslipped her thought
That she with painted images hath spent；
Being from the feeling of her own grief brought
By deep surmise of others' detriment；
Losing her woes in shows of discontent。
It easeth some； though none it ever cured；
To think their dolour others have endured。
But now the mindful messenger come back
Brings home his lord and other company；
Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black；
And round about her tear…distained eye
Blue circles streamed； like rainbows in the sky。
These water…galls in her dim element
Foretell new storms to those already spent。
Which when her sad…beholding husband saw；
Amazedly in her sad face he stares：
Her eyes； though sod in tears； looked red and raw；
Her lively colour killed with deadly cares。
He hath no power to ask her how she fares；
Both stood； like old acquaintance in a trance；
Met far from home； wond'ring each other's chance。
At last he takes her by the bloodless hand；
And thus begins： 'What uncouth ill event
Hath thee befall'n。 that thou dost trembling stand？
Sweet love； what spite hath thy fair colour spent？
Why art thou thus attired in discontent？
Unmask； dear dear； this moody heaviness；
And tell thy grief； that we may give redress。'
Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire
Ere once she can discharge one word of woe；
At length addressed to answer his desire；
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 wat'ry 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 moe 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 head；
And what wrong else may be imagined
By foul enforcement might be done to me；
From that； alas； thy Lucrece is not free。
'For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight；
With shining falchion in my chamber came：
A creeping creature with a flaming light；
And softly cried 〃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…favoured 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 fulfill
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
Th' 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 purloined his eyes；
And when the judge is robbed； 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 stained with this abuse；
Immaculate and spotless is my mind；
That was not forced； that never was inclined
To accessary yieldings； but still pure
Doth in her poisoned closet yet endure。'
Lo； here； the hopeless merchant of this loss；
With head declined； and voice damned up with woe；
With sad…set eyes and wreathed arms across；
From lips new waxen pale begins to blow
The grief away that stops his answer so；
But； wretched