THE HISTORY OF Tarquin and Lucretia. Licenced Decemb. 26. 1668. Roger L'Estrange. LONDON, Printed by T. Leach, for C. Wilkinson, at the Black Boy over against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet, 1669. FOR LUCINDA. Dear Madam, THis Poem of Tarquin and Lucretia challenges your Patronage and Protection: for I'll assure you, had it not been for your strict Injunctions, it had never seen the light. But since the subject was of so virtuous a Lady as Lucretia, and so ingenuous a Person laid her commands on me to Publish it; I was resolved to give way whatever were the hazard of it, and let Lucretia come to kiss your hands in that innocent Garb she used to wear, and that modest Behave that used always to accompany her Port air and actions. But I must beg pardon for all the faults, for being on another more serious subject, I could not review it as I would; neither do I but by accident make Verse my study, yet for divertisements from my unhappy troubles which you know attend me, I sometimes use to make it my recreation. I designed this Poem as I was walking one Morn among the little Trees of my Wilderness, and writ most if it down the same day, and so as it is, send it you. What errors there are, pray tell me, and I will amend it in the next Edition, and that's fair. In the mean time you must needs be my Championess to defend me against the censure and malice of the Age, and then I doubt not but this Poem will find favour among all the Courtly and Generous world, as Lucretia herself must needs oblige the concern of yourself, and compassion of all the chaste and well disposed. A virtuous disposition is commendable in all, but most in those whose great beauty renders them liable to many temptations, but yet scorn to be alured by the guilded folly and gaudy nonsense of the times, but their affections are wrought upon by brave temper, honour, and worthiness. How far doth our Lucretia differ from the lewdness of the world, whose airy Nymphs esteem wantonness, well managed, the best part of their Portion; when doubtless, sweetness and modesty, added to native Beauty, are infinitely the best accomplishments in a woman, understanding how to value a noble friendship beyond vicious extravagances. Poor Lucretia deserves the concern of all for her Misfortune, and vindication of all for her Affection and Loyalty: which must not be judged as wholly impeached, though sullied by this Rape; but yet much redeemed by her Trouble, Anguish, and Death. For such Accidents may inevitably fall out some times, though women stand on never so strict a Guard; though they are genuinly of never so virtuous a temper, yet their tender natures are liable to be frighted into several inconveniencies they were unwary off. Poor Lucretia's floods of Tears had expiated her Crime, if that could be called a Crime, which could not be helped, but by killing herself first, which though she had better have done before than after, So that by this disaster, the Ladies of our times may learn to be fore-witted. A Wife that is constant, and abominates disloyalty, as did Lucretia, deserves the Love of her Husband, Defence of Nations, and Wars of Kingdoms for her; but those that shall voluntarily unveil their Modesty, and profane their sacred Vows at the Altar, and join in Confederacy against Loyalty. no punishment is too bad for them; but such low and mean spirits, deserve the scorn of all mankind: Though their vice is clothed with never so much Grandeur, yet they appear too base and unworthy for the Heroic world to own or regard them: Their whole Lives being infamous, and their Actions black and foolish: Their Beauty itself afterwards proves but the Trumpet to make known their disgrace; so much the more I would have all Ladies esteem their Honour, and put a value on Chastity in a Cottage, before the glorious Addresses of Crowns and Empires with Dishonesty: For the Lines of their Faces are by it so altered, that afterwards all their Garb, Paint, and Impudence, can never set them right again in the view of the world: And their Deport makes thousands of others sober and harmlessly free women far the worse for them. But whither do I run? Dear Madam, I hope you'll pardon this Digression. For the honoured value I have for your Sex, makes me (being on a subject tending this way) give a word or two of caution to the wilder sort. For Love ought either not at all to be pretended, or if it be, to be maintained with the greatest Piety and Constancy in the world. I understand no Pleasure on Earth, but Philosophy and Love; one for the serious part of Life, the other for the merry. For all the Grandeurs we have, tend to this of Love at the last. What signifies all the Riches, fine Houses, fine Coaches, Garb, Splendour, and Equipage, but to endeer and entertain the Persons they Love. And as Love is that which causeth most pleasure and satisfaction, so women are the proper and natural Centure of it. What dull Sports are all the Exercises of Hawks, Hounds, Horses, and Drinking, to this of adoring your Sex. Society is the Life of Life, and Women the Life of all Society. And lovely women that are virtuous, the very Angels of this world. Wherefore I would have them do nothing that may render them otherwise than the Stars and Lustre of the Creation, but wearing Souls stamped with the Glory of the Ancient Heroes, may like little Deities soar above the ordinary Rank of Mortals: When others chaining their Lives to dark and crocked ways, live clouded and scandalously, and at last, sneak out of the world pitifully; while the truly Virtuous and Gallant persons, are happy in themselves, good to others, merit the Laurels of the wise, and ride triumphant on the Acclamations of the whole world. And after they have by the odours of their virtues perfumed the Age they live in, Immortal Story remembers them to Posterity by Deeds truly Heroic and Honourable. But no more of this now, lest I make my Epistle swell into a Volume, though all I have said, Madam, is but to Come to you at last, who show your good Inclinations, by having such a Concern for this excellent Lady. And as the bravest temper is to be pleasant in all Conditions whatever, yet not insensible of the nature of any Condition. To be one can reach at Crowns, or dwell in an Hermitage. So you, Madam. understand all the Modes and Meanders of women, and remain at last generous; having the gift also to be lively and well pleased at all times; and can be compleisant when you ought to be so, and at other times reserved. You can be merry, when you may do it with Conveniency, or otherwise, be as well contented to be contriving your Household affairs. I know also you hate penuriousness as one of the Devils on Earth, esteeming it mere madness to live sordidly to die rich. I dare say this is much your humour, and so I'll leave you at the present in the midst of all your happiness and pleasant design. Your Friend and Servant PHILANDER. THE HISTORY OF Tarquin and Lucretia. QUeen of all Cities in the World was Rome, The Nations far and near did thither come To see their Glory, and themselves to please There being all things Land could yield or Seas; Here was the Pomp, the Splendour, Living-high, The Grandees of the world and Bravery. Never was seen so great, so rich a Court, Gallants and Beauties here in Troops resort; Chariots and Guilded Rooms held them by days, The nights were spent in Balls, Treats, Masks, and Plays. To give delight nothing was wanting here, Their Houses brave and nobly furnished were. Set off with Painting, Marbles, and the Glories Of Pictures, Statues, and the Ancient Stories Adorned with Walks, with Gardens, Bathing Courts What e'er with Pleasures suited, or with Sports: Their Vestures were most rich, no want of Treasures, They melted and dissolved in sostest pleafures. Great Romulus first walled and built this Place, Stole Subine Wives and peopled it apace: So that in stead of wild Woods, Fields and Downs, He found'st a City, and established Crowns; And from that time to this they still have kept The Earth in Awe, and there securely slept. Brave Collatine a Roman Senator From the proud City lived not very far, He lead a pleasant and contented life, Enjoyed the world, and had a handsome Wife, Who was so good and virtuous too withal, That they the chaste Lucretia did her call. No man was happier in his Choice than he, Or any woman better pleased than she; They lived and loved most dearly, at that rate, As all did envy, or else wish their fate: The Gods did bless them, and their Joys promove, To show what sweet delights there dwelled in Love. Who e'er but viewed and saw their Loves combine, Plainly beheld th' Almighty's great Design When first he Adam made and gave him Eve, As one should both his soul and sense relieve, And he be to her both a Guard and Guide, And greater friend than all the world beside. Lucretia now was Young and in her Prime The Beauty and the wonder of her time; Thick Aurean pleasant hair bedecked her head, None was more fair, or lovelier white and red; A round of Glory like the radiant Sun Behemed her still, as a new Morn begun. A kind of pleasant Clouds enclasped her myen Transparent, and beyond what e'er was seen, Her sprightly Air so waved about her face, As if it might be caught in every place; Her seatures were transcendent, such her charms, None viewed her shape but wished her in his arms. The Great men had her all in Admiration, Yet ne'er came near her but by Contemplation; For she so careful of her honour was, Lest by her means a stain should come to pass; That she did surely all the ways prevent Might be her crime or husband's discontent. But the fierce Tarquin who was Prince of Rome Came to her when her Husband was from home, Pretending business from her noble Lord, Or else with him she had not spoke a word, For she employed was in her house and sphere, Surveighing of her business every where. None had more order in her Family, All did obey the dictates of her eye; Tarquin the wonder of her ways admired, The more he saw, the more he still desired, But in discourse at last he told her plain, His Errand was her kindest love to gain. What should so fair a Lady live so long From Court. There store of all Admirers throng; In th' Country all is dull, while here are Plays, And all divertisements your soul can raise; Gallants to court you, love you, and commend you, Whilst all the Glories in the world attend you. Madam in short I burn in love with you; And nought before could e'er my heart subdue. What Rome can give or all the Earth beside Shall be your Lot if I am not denied; Pardon my seeming error, so great Love Changeth from vice, and doth a virtue prove. O Sir, quoth she, and trembling as she stood, Pouring forth of her Crystal tears a flood; I am already to another wed, And will be truly loyal to his Beb; Women are lost and nothing signify If once they let their same and honour die. We must not trust ourselves with men alone, They who will trust can trusted be by none; For if we play, and love to courted be, We shall resign to Importunity; There's none can promise what may happen to One that will freely let all persons woe. Who love to be admired but in Jest, Are sure to lose their name if not the rest; I scorn the dirty follies of this age, Who after various mixtures lust and rage, Who marriage make but as a stalking horse, That they may sure and slyly act things worse. As for the crowds in Cities do appear I value not, I'm best contented here; I seek not others honour, praise, or love, My Glory's constant to my Lord to prove; The foolish Gallants with their glittering Train Appear to me ridiculous and vain. I wonder what you did see in my face Should make you think I'd yield to this disgrace; A light deport should ne'er with women stay, Their very looks should fright ill thoughts away: He comes too near who comes to be denied, Virtue should keep us pure, at least our Pride. Dear Madam what d'ye mean to think that I Would injure you, or make your honour fly; I'll love you, and will do you all the good, And for your sake will spend my life and blood; But now by all that's sacred here I vow, I would not hurt or else dishonour you. Grant me your love, and I will ever be Your perfect Slave and constant Votary: What is true honour you do much mistake, Honour doth never us unhappy make; Well managed Love's allowed, for secrecy Makes it true friendship, not dishonesty. Love is a kind and natural appetite, None can resist it, or with nature fight, No more than thirst, the Doctor's preachments can Alter its course no more than altar man; Or yet can any love whom that they will, But where it comes they must its law fulfil. The Gods themselves this Passion all approve, And veil their Deities to own their Love; This made the Thunderer lay by his Crown, And oft to Beauties on the Earth come down; Love breeds such softness by its warming gleams, Melting the hardest Rocks to running streams. What law can your commanding Beauty bind, Such glorious Creatures must not be confined; The common Rules are for the common sort, You are above the world and all report; Such lovely souls as you are made to be Surely for more than one's felicity. Marriage is but a humour politic, Collatine got you by some cheat or trick; I wonder in my soul he dared aspire To warm his Genius at your heavenly fire; You are designed for better things than these, All Kings and Thrones you may command with ease. Be gone you Messenger of Ribaldry, How dare you thus to tempt my honesty; You make as if I were beyond good fame, And honour that's so great were but a name; But you shall know though honour were asleep, Reason and Piety my Soul shall keep. Were it no crime, which yet it is the worst, A Whore of all things in the world's accursed, So mean to satisfy base men's disease, And then to be thrust off when e'er they please, And hist at by the world, and thrown about As vilest Caitiffs by the Revel Rout. Speak not of naturalness, I know all vice Have in you men a very natural rise; And if this Passion could not be declined, All things in common would be soon resigned; These are but fallacies, Reason's our Guide, Nature from Honesty doth ne'er divide. What do you tell me that I am exempt From Laws, That is a poor thing me to tempt, I have a soul, and in that Honour find Which Queens themselves as well as others bind, And Love must not be common, or too free, But always circumscribed with Loyalty. Greatness or Riches tempt me not at all, There's few enjoy that which we happy call: They're foolish Girls that fancy gaudy Flies, The soul and person only take the wise; Where each are pleased with each beyond all chance, They spurn at Crowns as but a poor advance. What's Wealth, or Power, or Splendour more to me Then I enjoy myself: Felicity Is much mistaken by us Women when We think we're happy in the greatest men; They please themselves: When others please us do, And they are only happy that live so. Who can have more than I who have a friend, That nought but death to Love can put an end; What I desire I have, and I desire Nothing but what true friendship doth require: Love is the Star that leads us, nothing eases Each others mind but what each other pleases. The Bounds are set which you and I must keep, And plain to all whose souls are not asleep: Let single Persons please themselves in friends, Married must not have such unworthy ends; They are not then their own, but each the others, They must live chaste and all ill Passion smother. Why do you tell me of my Beauty so, They only handsome are that handsome do; An ounce of virtue's worth a load of Beauty, Who have't are bound to heaven in greater duty, 'Twas given to make us happy, not more lewd, And turn such blessings to Ingratitude. You Atheist would you marriage too profane, And make me break the sacred oath I have ta'en: This is worst yet to palliate the crime, To make fools of the Gods from first of time; Know that in keeping firm this holy Pact, The Gods the being of the world enact. What e'er design before had either part, Hymen once past nothing must change the heart; All wounds are salved and bound up in Love, Nothing should ever this great League remove; For all excuses than they come too late, Both sides must bow and buckle to their fate. I like not that you should ill words bestow On Collatine, or think him to lay low In my esteem, for that's the common cheat, It is not outside or the name of great My soul can charm, the Genius I admire, How e'er none but my Lord I will desire. King's are but little things in my esteem, Nought doth to me so great as virtue seem; Our Passions and our crimes subdue we must, I'll not mix Poisons, but will still be just, Or harbour ill, for Collatine is he Hath all my heart, and shall my constancy. Madam one word, once understand but Love These seeming Rocks will quickly from you move; Love is a Pleasure you ne'er understood, There is a sprightly Air in flesh and blood, Which once well kened all other things are folly, This makes the hearts and souls of those so jolly. Converse with Nature that will quickly tell How many Pleasures in this Passion dwell; Trees, Birds and Beasts, and Fishes in the Seas Till they have chose their Loves are ne'er at ease; There is a Loving Fury feizeth all In Sea, Air, Earth and Heaven, both great and small. The lively winged people of the Sky Sing their amours with chanting melody; The Stars of heaven at one another dart, Which only is a kind and loving Art. Why should we fear at all then to be kind When all things that have life are so inclined. What's all the Glory men or times possess, But whom they love to pleasure and Caress, Riches, Garb, Splendour, tend to heighten Love, And servants are as it doth turn and move; Love is the great wheel, here moves Gods and men, And when we come to heaven we love again. Wherefore what is there ere can nobler be Than this which is so good, so great, so free: Kept up 'tis at so sweet so kind a rate It wings us clear above the frowns of Fate. Then all things else as follies I despise, And wait the sentence of your scornful eyes. You make me first an Atheist, then instill Sweet melting love, so have me at your will; But be assured for all you are a Prince, Yet all your slights and art will ne'er convince; Tarquin you miss your aim, 'twill never do, Yet love I understand as well as you. Virtue and Love together I adore Beyond the Indies or the richest Ore: Religion, Duty, Love, then strive to show Each its affection, each for to outdo; For there's the pleasure when the Love is free From guilt: But yours is nought but Treachery. Where harbours Virtue, Love and Innocence, Pleasures as high as heaven there commence. These are those pious fervours well begun From which streams of content apace do run. Nothings so dear as harmony of Hearts, There's what's in Kingdoms, Empires, Crowns, or Arts. Whose humourous fancy's lead them to be great, Some foreign matters still with dangers threat, And trouble too or Treason doth attend, But all things rest and sweeten in a friend: Friendship is that all things and creatures woe Makes Life more pleasant than all else can do. Yet these true solid joys there's none can tell But those that do in Love's fair Kingdom dwell; And this breeds the true pleasure when we know, 'Tis honest, lawful, and we may do so, Then without fear we may resign to Love: What was a crime a duty now doth prove. We may live merry if our Bounds we keep, Wine we may drink, but must not go too deep. Then Tarquin understand and be at rest, I've all things in the world that please me best; I'm pleased in my condition and nmy state, And I'll as constant be as holy Fate. But did I him not like, nought else I'd love, Our fancies should not wander, roll, or move; We must not straggle or raise needless dust, For who does so loves to create a Lust; I love not to be called a light-heeled Dame, And thought to be regardless of my fame. What a poor spirit 'tis to be undressed, And at the will of man to play the Beast, And ever after must remain their slave, If any comfort in their lives will have, And for a moment's folly must endure A whole Life's shame, and always be impure. These are the words which she to Tarquin spoke, Which did him not appease but more provoke; For the more chaste and virtuous was she, The greater mind to rifle her had he: But when she saw she could not him subdue, She turned about and to her chamber flew. But as the swift foot Greyhound breaks the Air, And runs with speed when that he sees the Hare; So followed Tarquin, and broke in before That she had time to shut the Chamber door; He quickly showed how ill he had been bred, For presently he laid her on the Bed. And there contemplated the lovely make Of all her dainty Limbs, His eyes did take The greatest pleasure that the Earth could give To any mortal in this world and live: She had such Beauty dwelled in every part, Beyond description of the Pen or Art. He was in heat before, but now in flame, Longing for to enjoy this curious frame; His heart and blood and soul was now confounded, Torrents of Love on all sides him surrounded Oh Gods quoth he why do you mortals tempt, Yet by your Laws from pleasures them exempt? He was resolved now to ransack all That men do chastity or beauty call, And bless himself upon this sweet composure, Thinking he ne'er should have the like enclosure; Wherefore he sped to make use of time This Lady being in her chiefest Prime. And without fear unto those parts made way, Which as affecting make her fly or stay: But then she vowed that if he left her breath, Before she'd yield she'd surely be his death; And there Conjured him not to touch her more, Yet like a Suppliant did him there implore. With that he fell down on his bended knees, Begging to grant him those felicity's; Told her his Passion and his mighty flame, An hundred Altars should burn to her name; And all the honour in the world should be A Sacrifice unto her memory. But she a thousand thousand tears let fall, And said this day should be her funeral Before this wrong that she would undetgoe, And humbly prayed this thing he would not do: Pity said she use not this cruelty, This is the worst of inhumanity. But nothing would his humour now withstand, He laid her body at his sole command, And ruffled all her Garments very rudely, That he might view her loveliness more lewdly; Nothing would keep him back, for he was bend To ravish her if she would not consent. And then he told her plain that since she could Not grant him his desires he force her would, And after kill her and her Negro too, And lay him by her side and all should know That he enjoyed you, and that I was there, And killed you both as in the act you were. This dreadful Story in her mind she mused, She's loath to yield, yet loath to be abused; But what with fear at last his wrath and thunder, He forced her purest chastity asunder; And between Will ye Nill ye did enjoy His hot desires, and after went his way. But she did rave like one that was stark mad, Nothing could ease her heart it was so sad: O Fool said she was I to suffer this, Better that I had died than done amiss; For than I'd left the world pure innocent, Now I must kill myself for discontent. I lost my honour honour to enjoy, My body now polluted I'll destroy; Yet why should I? consent I did not give, Which makes the sin, however I'll not live: Unhappy women's beauty, and their fears That draw them in such plunges and such snares. I'll never live a minute longer sure, Since nothing now my honour can secure; I hate to see the light or else mankind, No comfort in my life at all I find: My guilt so startles me, the world will say Lucretia like the rest loves private play. O fatal day, oh horrid accident, That robs me thus of honour and content: Tell me ye Higher-powers what course to take That I may yet my life but happy make: What fond word did I say, o● there's no Power Can ever, ever what I lost restore. Then take me death, my my Tomb prepare, My burdened soul shall strait possess the Air; I'll sacrifice myself for to appease The angry Gods, and give my spirits ease: With that she set a dagger to her breast, And sent her soul unto eternal rest. Her Women gave such shrieks to see her fall Quickly resounded in the high-roofed Hall, Piercing the ears of all within the place, Which made then flock and thunder up apace; Where, oh Misfortune, they their Lady found Near to death's borders by her own hands wound. Just as this Hurry was in agitation Comes Collatine with many men of fashion, Who dreamed some ill had happened to his Wife, Which made him post away as for his life; For no man ever loved a woman better, And she was never unto him a debtor. He came up to the house, and in at door, But none did fee, yet heard them cry and rear; At last one bolder than the rest came down That told the news, at which his breath was gone; But he recovering himself at last, Up stairs he went to see what there had passed, And found the story true to his great grief, And could not see a way to get relief: He wrung his hands, invoked, made horrid wishes, Then gave her fainting limbs ten thousand kisses; He called Lucretia loud just by her side, She answered, I am thine alone, then died. And so now past all hope she did departed, Which last adieu was like to break his heart; No Doctor's means or art was left unsought, But all experiments did come to nought; Her countenance changed at last and she grew cold As he her body in his arms did hold. Friends than persuaded him to come away, And would not let him in her chamber stay. Poor Collatine did rave and tore his hair, And with his dismal moans did pierce the Air: At last some little comfort eased his breath, Vowing revenge for his Lucretia's death. Quoth he she was constant to me all her life, None was more loving or a better Wife; And at the last from me she would not stray, Though Tarquin fain would had her quite away; But she vowed to him she would die before That ere she'd go from out her husband's door. Who hearts deceitful have, vain, light, or lewd I'd let them drive amongst the multitude, I would not be their Jailer, for this know Where freedom won't oblige nothing will do: Whose Mistress cleaves to him he's bound t'adore, But he is mad strives for another's Whore; Like unto Marcus Cassiado●e the great, Who had a Wife both light was and a cheat, Who robbed her Husband, and concealed lay While she with Damasus had private play; Yet Marcus fought his Rival, but was killed, Whose Wife had then her end when's blood was spilled. So pious Marcus weltered on the ground Whilst his base Wife did dress the others wound: O cruel wretch was't not enough to do To leave him, but thus persecute him too: What horrid treacheries was founded here, Hell gave her counsel, and her course did steer. What stony heart can now from tears refrain, To think that mortals should such crimes retain: The barbarous Nations round about us here, Never so savage or so rude appear; Honour, Love, Laws, Religion, Gratiude Are lost and buried in a heart so lewd. But dear Lucretia thou didst love me so, Greater affection none could ever show; Hadst thou inconstant been or false to me, I'd never be concerned or fight for thee, I'd let thee pine and sink in thy own shame; But now I'm bound to vindicate thy name. O all ye Gods in the celestial state If Justice is not with you out of date, As 'tis on Earth your powers I do invoke To help me at this plunge, your holy book I yield to, and your hardest decrees obey, Your Altars still shall flame, I'll all deuce pay. If this be suffered who can live at rest, None will be found to keep an honest breast, Marriage esteemed was always, for if that Be once profaned farewell the sacred knot Of all society, then farewel Laws, Ruin attends upon so bad a cause. Nature itself in Love commands Propriety, Else no good offsprings would be or society, No care of Child or how to manage Land, But every one would grasp what comes to hand; All Children would be Bastards, Men Deceivers, No Government, Religion, or Believers. All hold propriety a thing most dear, But nothing ever like a Wife so near; With that he paused: but could not grief assuage, But plots the founding of a tragic age; Strange Scenes are laid, confusions quickly flow, Brutus the Rebel closes with him too, And helped the broil: quoth he, we're void of fear, All this whole Province for you will appear; Collatia is already up in Arms, And vow to keep you from all future harms. I'll lead the forces and maintain the day, Command me as your slave I will obey. Now nought but quarrels gave their heart's contentment These humours in their breasts had such resentment. Arms at all points, nothing will them debar, They'd Peace so long, that they are mad for War; Both sides make ready, now the battle comes, Which gives to many unexpected Tombs. How thick the Hills were spread with lookers on, While some for victory to the Templerun; What shrieks are heard sometimes, then Trumpet sounds Whet up their courage and their foesconfounds: Here bodies mangled are, what direful slaughters, What cries of mournful Widows, Wives and Daughters. To tell of all the furies, heats, enragements, Ranges of Battle, and the fierce Engagements: Who lead the Wings of Horse up, who the Foot, Which side gave ground, and which the best stood too't Requires a Volume: and besides black night Now summons both the Armies to retreat. So here I'll leave and do as the Romances, Led up your thoughts with many pretty fancies. Then leave you in a Cloud, and never close, For then your mind would have too much repose; But then 'tis best: when thoughts still farther bend, For there the pleasure never hath an End. FINIS.