Rembrandt painted two paintings concerning
The rape of Lucrece.
Here are some parts of Shakespeare's contribution.
The Rape of Lucrece
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE
THE 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 with his 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's son, 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 were late in the night, spinning amongst her
maids: the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or
in several 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 treacherously stealeth
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;
|RAP| ** and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause
|RAP| ** of her sorrow. She, first taking an oath of them for her
|RAP| ** revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his dealing, and
|RAP| ** withal suddenly stabbed herself. Which done, with one consent
|RAP| ** they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the
|RAP| ** Tarquins; and bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted
|RAP| ** the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed, with a
|RAP| ** bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the
|RAP| ** people were so moved, that with one consent and a general
|RAP| ** acclamation the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state
|RAP| ** government changed from kings to consuls.
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Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame,
|RAP| ** Within whose face beauty and virtue strived
|RAP| ** Which of them both should underprop her fame:
|RAP| ** When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame;
|RAP| ** When beauty boasted blushes, in despite
|RAP| ** Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white.
|RAP| ** But beauty, in that white intituled,
|RAP| ** From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field:
|RAP| ** Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red,
|RAP| ** Which virtue gave the golden age to gild
|RAP| ** Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield;
|RAP| ** Teaching them thus to use it in the fight,
|RAP| ** When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white.
|RAP| ** This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
|RAP| ** Argued by beauty's red and virtue's white
|RAP| ** Of either's colour was the other queen,
|RAP| ** Proving from world's minority their right:
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The aim of all is but to nurse the life
|RAP| ** With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age;
|RAP| ** And in this aim there is such thwarting strife,
|RAP| ** That one for all, or all for one we gage;
|RAP| ** As life for honour in fell battle's rage;
|RAP| ** Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost
|RAP| ** The death of all, and all together lost.
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She bears the load of lust he left behind,
|RAP| ** And he the burden of a guilty mind.
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But no perfection is so absolute,
|RAP| ** That some impurity doth not pollute.
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A thousand lamentable objects there,
|RAP| ** In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life:
|RAP| ** Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear,
|RAP| ** Shed for the slaughter'd husband by the wife:
|RAP| ** The red blood reek'd, to show the painter's strife;
|RAP| ** And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights,
|RAP| ** Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.
| ---------------------------------------
She utters this, 'He, he, fair lords, 'tis he,
That guides this hand to give this wound to me.'
Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast
A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheathed:
That blow did that it from the deep unrest
Of that polluted prison where it breathed:
Her contrite sighs unto the clouds bequeath'd
Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly
Life's lasting date from cancell'd destiny.
Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed,
Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew;
Till Lucrece' father, that beholds her bleed,
Himself on her self-slaughter'd body threw;
And from the purple fountain Brutus drew
The murderous knife, and, as it left the place,
Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase;
And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide
In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood
Circles her body in on every side,
Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood
Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood.
Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd,
And some look'd black,
