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As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear

Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust.

Away he steals with opening, listening ear,

Full of foul hope, and full of fond mistrust;

Both which, as servitors to the unjust,

So cross him with their opposite persuasion,

That now he vows a league, and now invasion.

Within his thought her heavenly image sits,

And in the self-same seat sits Collatine:

That eye which looks on her confounds his wits;

That eye which him beholds, as more divine,

Unto a view so false will not incline;

But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart,

Which once corrupted takes the worser part;

And therein heartens up his servile powers,

Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund show,

Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours;

And as their captain, so their pride doth grow.

Paying more slavish tribute than they owe.

By reprobate desire thus madly led,

The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.

The locks between her chamber and his will,

Each one by him enforc'd retires his ward;

But, as they open they all rate his ill,

Which drives the creeping thief to some regard,

The threshold grates the door to have him heard;

Night-wand'ring weasels shriek to see him there;

They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.

As each unwilling portal yields him way,

Through little vents and crannies of the place

The wind wars with his torch, to make him stay,

And blows the smoke of it into his face,

Extinguishing his conduct in this case;

But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch,

Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch:

And being lighted, by the light he spies

Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks;

He takes it from the rushes where it lies,

And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks:

As who should say this glove to wanton tricks

Is not inur'd: return again in haste;

Thou see'st our mistress' ornaments are chaste.

But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;

He in the worst sense construes their denial:

The doors, the wind, the glove that did delay him,

He takes for accidental things of trial;

Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial,

Who with a lingering stay his course doth let,

Till every minute pays the hour his debt.

'So, so,' quoth he, 'these lets attend the time,

Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring.

To add a more rejoicing to the prime,

And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing.

Pain pays the income of each precious thing;

Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves and sands,

The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.'

Now is he come unto the chamber door,

That shuts him from the heaven of his thought,

Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,

Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing he sought.

So from himself impiety hath wrought,

That for his prey to pray he doth begin,

As if the heavens should countenance his sin.

But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer,

Having solicited the eternal power,

That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair,

And they would stand auspicious to the hour,

Even there he starts:—quoth he, 'I must de-flower;

The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact,

How can they then assist me in the act?

'Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide!

My will is back'd with resolution:

Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried,

The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution;

Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution.

The eye of heaven is out, and misty night

Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.'

This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,

And with his knee the door he opens wide:

The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch;

Thus treason works ere traitors be espied.

Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside;

But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing,

Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.

Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,

And gazeth on her yet unstained bed.

The curtains being close, about he walks,

Rolling his greedy eyeballs in his head:

By their high treason is his heart misled;

Which gives the watch-word to his hand