Dedication : TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield. The love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show greater; meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with all happiness. Your lordship's in all duty,WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
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Dedication: To the Right Honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield:
I have unending love to dedicate to you, sir; to be frank, this poem is just a trivial little piece of it. I know you'll accept it—not because my poetry is any good, but because you're a nice guy. Everything I've written is yours. What I'll write in the future is yours. And since you're a part of everything I do, I am yours, too. If I were a more powerful person, my service to you would be more valuable. As it is, I'm loyal to you, sir, and I wish you a long, happy life. Your faithful servant, William Shakespeare
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Argument : Lucius Tarquinius, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus, after he had caused his own father-in-law Servius Tullius to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs, not requiring or staying for the people's suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom, went, accompanied withhis sons and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During which siege the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king'sson, in their discourses after supper every one commended the virtues of his own wife: among whom Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. In that pleasant humour they posted to Rome; and intending, by their secret and sudden arrival,to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds his wife, though it werelate in the night, spinning amongst her maids: the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or inseveral disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus the victory, and his wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius being inflamed with Lucrece' beauty, yet smothering his passions for the present, departed with the rest back to the camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself, and was, according to his estate, royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he treacherouslystealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, hastily dispatcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, another to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius; and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause ofher sorrow. She, first taking an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his dealing, and withal suddenly stabbed herself. Which done, with one consent they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the Tarquins; and bearing the deadbody to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed, with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith thepeople were so moved, that with one consent and a general acclamation the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state government changed from kings to consuls.
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Plot Summary: After Lucius Tarquinius (nicknamed "Superbus" for his excessive pride) had his own father-in-law cruelly murdered, he ignored Roman laws and customs and didn't allow the people to vote. He took over the kingdom and took his followers and other Roman noblemen to attack Ardea. During the siege, the army leaders met one evening in a tent belonging to Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son. As they talked after dinner, everyone bragged about the virtues of their wives. Collatine praised his wife Lucrece's incomparable sexual morality. Having fun, they quickly went back to Rome to see if they could catch their wives (whom they'd just been bragging about) by surprise, to test them. Only Collatine's wife was found sewing with her maids, even though it was late at night. All the other ladies were found dancing and partying, or in bed with their lovers. At that point the noblemen admitted Collatine had won the contest, and that his wife was impressive. Afterward, Sextus Tarquinius was attracted to Lucrece's beauty, but he kept it to himself for the moment, and went back to the camp with the others. It wasn't long until he secretly snuck away. Lucrece entertained him and boarded him royally because he was a prince. That same night, he snuck into her room, violently raped her, and ran away in the morning. Poor Lucrece immediately sent messengers: one to her father in Rome and the other to Collatine in the camp. They arrived, her father accompanied by Junius Brutus and her husband accompanied by Publius Valerius. When they found Lucrece wearing mourning clothes, they demanded to know why she was grieving. After making them swear they would take revenge, she revealed the offender and the complete circumstances of his crime. Then, suddenly, she stabbed herself. After that, the men all unanimously agreed to destroy the entire hateful Tarquin family. They took the dead body to Rome. Brutus explained to people who the offender was, and told them about the horrible deed he had done, riling them up to rebel against the tyrannical king. The people were so moved that they united to force the Tarquins into exile, and the country's government changed from a monarchy to a democracy.
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FROM the besieged Ardea all in post, Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, And to Collatium bears the lightless fire Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire And girdle with embracing flames the waist Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.
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Spurred on by evil lust, Tarquin races away from Ardea, where he was stationed with the Roman army to protect the city while it was under attack. He's on his way to Collatium, filled with cold, calculating desire to get hot and heavy with Lucrece, the virtuous wife of Collatine.
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Haply that name of 'chaste' unhappily set This bateless edge on his keen appetite; When Collatine unwisely did not let To praise the clear unmatched red and white Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight, Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.
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Unfortunately, it was the word "virtuous" that whetted his bottomless appetite. Collatine foolishly kept on bragging about his wife's unparalleled fair skin, red cheeks—which made her beloved face delightfully beautiful—and her eyes which, as bright as stars, were only for him.
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For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state; What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent In the possession of his beauteous mate; Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, That kings might be espoused to more fame, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
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Last night in Tarquin's tent, Collatine told everyone how happy he was. He talked about how the gods had blessed him with a priceless, beautiful wife who was better than riches. He figured he was so fortunate that, while it was true that kings might be more famous than him, no king or nobleman was married to such an unmatched lady.
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O happiness enjoy'd but of a few! And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done As is the morning's silver-melting dew Against the golden splendor of the sun! An expired date, cancell'd ere well begun: Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.
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So few get to be that happy! And, if they are that happy, the happiness is short-lived, over and gone as quickly as morning dew evaporates in the sun! Virtue and beauty wrapped up together in one person are about as likely to last as a date that's canceled before it begins. That person—and her virtue and beauty—are vulnerable to a world of hurt.
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Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator; What needeth then apologies be made, To set forth that which is so singular? Or why is Collatine the publisher Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown From thievish ears, because it is his own?
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Beauty in and of itself catches men's eyes; there's no explanation needed. What is there to be said to explain something that's so obviously special? And why would Collatine brag about his own precious wife, when he should be protecting her from listeners who would try to steal her?
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Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty Suggested this proud issue of a king; For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: Perchance that envy of so rich a thing, Braving compare, disdainfully did sting His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt That golden hap which their superiors want.
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Collatine's bragging about Lucrece's perfection was probably what enticed Tarquin, the son of a king. The things we hear often poison our hearts. Maybe he was so jealous of Collatine's valuable possession—Lucrece—that he'd do anything to compete, and the thought of it took over his mind. He was annoyed that a lesser man would brag about his good luck, which his superiors couldn't help but envy.
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But some untimely thought did instigate His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those: His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state, Neglected all, with swift intent he goes To quench the coal which in his liver glows. O rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold, Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old!
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Whatever the case, a poorly-timed thought prompted his all-too-hasty speed. He forgot all about his reputation, his job, his friends, and his country. He was dead-set to go and put out the fire burning in his heart. No matter how old and past our prime we get, impulsive desires can still overtake us like they do young men!
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When at Collatium this false lord arrived, Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame, Within whose face beauty and virtue strived Which of them both should underprop her fame: When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame; When beauty boasted blushes, in despite Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white.
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When this evil man arrived at Collatium, the Roman lady welcomed him. It was hard to say whether beauty or modesty was her most defining attribute—it was like a competition between the two. When someone mentioned how modest she was, her beautiful face would blush, embarrassed. And when she looked all the more beautiful because she was blushing, she'd get shy and become pale again, showing how modest she was.
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But beauty, in that white intituled, From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field: Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red, Which virtue gave the golden age to gild Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white.
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But she looked beautiful when she was pale, too, so that it seemed like beauty was winning. But then shyness would make her blush, rather than beauty—the kind of blush that has made modest people simply beautiful since the Stone Age. Modesty has always fought with beauty in the same way, making beautiful people shy so that their red blushes overcome their pale, white faces.
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