Page 2312 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

And all my fame that lives disbursed be
To those that live and think no shame of me.

«Thou Collatine, shalt oversee this will; [1205]
How was I overseen that thou shalt see it!
My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill;

My life’s foul deed my life’s fair end shall free it.
Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say ‘So be it’;
Yield to my hand, my hand shall conquer thee: [1210]

Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be».

This plot of death when sadly she had laid,

And wip’d the brinish pearl from her bright eyes,
With untun’d tongue she hoarsely calls her maid,
Whose swift obedience to her mistress hies; [1215]

For fleet-wing’d duty with thought’s feathers flies.
Poor Lucrece’ cheeks unto her maid seem so
As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow.

Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow,
With soft slow tongue, true mark of modesty, [1220]

And sorts a sad look to her lady’s sorrow,
For why her face wore sorrow’s livery;
But durst not ask of her audaciously
Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so,

Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash’d with woe. [1225]

But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set,
Each flower moisten’d like a melting eye,
Even so the maid with swelling drops ’gan wet
Her circled eyne, enforc’d by sympathy

Of those fair suns set in her mistress’ sky, [1230]
Who in a salt-way’d ocean quench their light;
Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night.

A pretty while these pretty creatures stand,
Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling.