Page 2290 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

«Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide:
Thy beauty hath ensnar’d thee to this night, [485]
Where thou with patience must my will abide,
My will that marks thee for my earth’s delight;

Which I to conquer sought with all my might:
But as reproof and reason beat it dead,
By thy bright beauty was it newly bred. [490]

«I see what crosses my attempt will bring,

I know what thorns the growing rose defends;
I think the honey guarded with a sting:
All this beforehand counsel comprehends.
But will is deaf, and hears no heedful friends; [495]
Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,

And dotes on what he looks, ’gainst law or duty.

«I have debated even in my soul,
What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed;
But nothing can affection’s course control, [500]
Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.

I know repentant tears ensue the deed,
Reproach, disdain and deadly enmity;
Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy».

This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, [505]

Which like a falcon tow’ring in the skies,
Coucheth the fowl below with his wings’ shade,
Whose crooked beak threats, if he mount he dies.
So under his insulting falchion lies

Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells [510]
With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcons’ bells.

«Lucrece», quoth he, «this night I must enjoy thee.
If thou deny, then force must work my way:
For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee;

That done, some worthless slave of thine I’ll slay, [515]
To kill thine honour with thy life’s decay;