Page 2316 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

The post attends, and she delivers it,
Charging the sour-fac’d groom to hie as fast
As lagging fowls before the northern blast; [1335]
Speed more than speed but dull and slow she deems:

Extremity still urgeth such extremes.

The homely villain cur’sies to her low,
And blushing on her with a steadfast eye,
Receives the scroll without or yea or no, [1340]

And forth with bashful innocence doth hie;
But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie,
Imagine every eye beholds their blame,
For Lucrece thought he blush’d to see her shame:

When, silly groom! God wot, it was defect [1345]

Of spirit, life and bold audacity;
Such harmless creatures have a true respect
To talk in deeds, while other saucily
Promise more speed, but do it leisurely.
Even so this pattern of the worn-out age [1350]

Pawn’d honest looks, but us’d no words to gage.

His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
That two red fires in both their faces blazed;
She thought he blush’d, as knowing Tarquin’s lust,

And blushing with him, wistly on him gazed. [1355]
Her earnest eye did make him more amazed;
The more she saw the blood his cheeks replenish,
The more she thought he spied in her some blemish.

But long she thinks till he return again,

And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone; [1360]
The weary time she cannot entertain,
For now ’tis stale to sigh, to weep and groan:
So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan,

That she her plaints a little while doth stay,
Pausing for means to mourn some newer way. [1365]