But now he throws that shallow habit by,
Wherein deep policy did him disguise;
And arm'd his long-hid wits advisedly,
To check the tears in Collatinus' eyes.
Thou wronged lord of Rome, quoth he, arise
unfounded felf, fuppos'd a fool,

Let my
Now fet thy long-experienc'd wit to fchool.

Why Collatine, is woe the cure for woe?

Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous deeds?
Is it revenge to give thyself a blow,

For his foul act by whom thy fair wife bleeds?
Such childish humour from weak minds proceeds:
Thy wretched wife miftook the matter fo,
To flay herself, that should have slain her foe.

Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart
In fuch relenting dew of lamentations,
But kneel with me, and help to bear thy part,
To rouse our Roman gods with invocations,
That they will suffer these abominations,

Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgraced,
By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chased.

Now by the Capitol that we adore,

And by this chaste blood so unjustly stained,

By heaven's fair fun, that breeds the fat earth's store,
By all our country rights in Rome maintained,
And by chafte Lucrece' foul that late complained
Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife,
We will revenge the death of this true wife.

This faid, he struck his hand upon his breast,
And kifs'd the fatal knife to end his vow;
And to his protestation urg'd the rest,
Who wondering at him, did him words allow :
Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow;
And that deep vow which Brutus made before,
He doth again repeat, and that they swore.

When they had fworn to this advised doom,
They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence;
To show the bleeding body thorough Rome,
And fo to publish Tarquin's foul offence:
Which being done with speedy diligence,
The Romans plaufibly did give confent
To Tarquin's everlasting banishment.

I ij

1

SONNET S

1