Page 2300 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4
P. 2300
To cipher what is writ in learned books,
Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks.
«The nurse to still her child will tell my story,
And fright her crying babe with Tarquin’s name.
The orator to deck his oratory [815]
Will couple my reproach to Tarquin’s shame.
Feast-finding minstrels tuning my defame,
Will tie the hearers to attend each line,
How Tarquin wronged me, I Collatine.
«Let my good name, that senseless reputation, [820]
For Collatine’s dear love be kept unspotted.
If that be made a theme for disputation,
The branches of another root are rotted,
And undeserv’d reproach to him allotted
That is as clear from this attaint of mine [825]
As I ere this was pure to Collatine.
«O unseen shame, invisible disgrace!
O unfelt sore, crest-wounding private scar!
Reproach is stamp’d in Collatinus’ face,
And Tarquin’s eye may read the mot afar, [830]
How he in peace is wounded, not in war:
Alas how many bear such shameful blows,
Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows!
«If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me,
From me by strong assault it is bereft: [835]
My honey lost, and I a drone-like bee,
Have no perfection of my summer left,
But robb’d and ransack’d by injurious theft;
In thy weak hive a wand’ring wasp hath crept,
And suck’d the honey which thy chaste bee kept. [840]
«Yet am I guilty of thy honour’s wrack;
Yet for thy honour did I entertain him:
