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The rewarde of Wickednesse

Discoursing the sundrye monstrous abuses of wicked and vngodlye worldelinges: in such sort set downe and written as the same haue beene dyuersely practised in the persones of Popes, Harlots, Proude Princes, Tyrauntes, Romish Byshoppes, and others. With a liuely description of their seuerall falles and finall destruction. Uerye profitable for all sorte of estates to reade and looke vpon. Nevvly compiled by Richard Robinson

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Young Tarquine rewarded for his wickednesse.
 
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Young Tarquine rewarded for his wickednesse.

Awaye with all your playntes and bloobering teares,
Your carefull cryes shut vp in silence quite:
For here behoulde such cruelnesse appeers,
Of all the rest but I no wight hath felt the like.
Hell showes hir force on me with double spite,
No paine to mine, nor none so worthy blame,
As I deserue, I well confesse the same.
O pryde, pryde, of mischiefe roote and all,
Wo worth the time I thee delighted so:
Thou made me climbe vntill I catcht the fall,
Not onely to my shame, but also endlesse wo.
Through pryde, I lost both loue, and honor long ago,
Pryde ruled me so much, no goodnesse I regarded,
Therefore for wickednesse beholde I am rewarded.
Of noble line and race, descended I,
And a Ruler was, and Ruler mighe haue beene,
But yet my heart in wretchednesse did lye:
I fearde not God, nor forst his lawes a pinne,
I ranne my rase alwayes in deadly sinne.
I cleane forgot my selfe, and eke from whence I came,
I rather thought my selfe a God then mortall man.


For who, had that, which I did lacke or want,
Of golde or siluer or stones of precious price?
For my bodie, costlye apparell was not skant,
Nor nothing else that pryde might well entice,
Thus vertue decayde, but still increased vice.
To pamper vp the paunche, the filthy fleshe fulfill,
I wholy gaue my selfe with earnest heart and will.
Which caused me to acumilate eche houre,
Upon my heade more plagues then can be namde:
The Gods agreed their vengance for to poure
On earth for aye: my name I stainde and shamde,
Thus may you heare how I am Iustly blamde.
To my disprayse, and to the prayse of soome,
That by my losse to honour & great prayse haue coome.
Sith Morpheus thou art here, and brought thy friend with thee
Be witnesse of the woe that Tarquine bydeth here:
Sith Poets haue pende the wicked life of mee,
Of my rewarde thou mayst reporte well bere.
For the purpose none more meeter then thou here:
It is no councell that all the worlde doth knoe,
Nor yet forgot, that was done long agoe.
Fie on rapine, through guilefull treason wrought,
Fie on the swelling flesh that soule and bodie kils:
Fie on filthinesse, whose ende is euer nought,
And fie on folly, that all good maner spils.
Take heede all you that follow fleshly wils.
Of me prowde Tarquine made a mirror clere.
So may you shunne the paines I suffer here.
Beholde, when I did Lucrece finde in bed,
Through harmefull sleight premeditate before,
With naked sworde in hand to hir I sayde:
Consent to me (quoth I) else shalt thou liue no more:


Thy tender fleshe this Lainche shall carue full sore:
Then will I slea the worst thy house within,
Ile make report you were committing sinne.
Which wordes did rauishe so her noble sence and witte,
That tremblingly shee quakes, as doeth the Aspen Leafe:
Feare streight compeld her quakinglye to sit,
Like as shee woulde depart with vitall breath,
The naked Sworde in sight, stil threatning present death,
Thus I rauisht a Ladye both vertuous and chaste,
Wherfore I am cōpelde, (alas) these sorowes to taste.
Whereat eache tongue did talke to my disprayse,
And for the same, I banisht was for euer:
(Sith then) all my posteritie aye euermore decayes.
Loe thus the Gods their vengance doe deliuer:
Bewayled be the daye that then I did com thither.
Among my wicked deedes, this onely was the worst,
Therefore I was and am for euermore accurst.
I am a sacke of sorrowe in this sincke
And stincking puddle wherein you see me lye:
Whose faultes with mine respondent pende with inke,
Were euer hearde or scande with learned eye?
As vice to my reproache, so vertues Fame doth flye
Tooth' prayse of Lucrecia and example of all such.
As of hir doe delight, and of me doe reade much.
For when this wilfull act committed was,
And I had fed my lust this noble matron on:
Then for to liue, nothing she loued lesse,
With wringing handes, Alas she maketh mone,
Come Atropos (quoth shee) make hast that I were gone
And crying still, come Clotho come make speede,
Of Lucrece life, vntwine the fatall threede.


Then pardon craued shee of Colatine

Colatine was the husband of Lucrece.


And of hir father Spurius by and by:
I haue made offence, wo woorth the wicked time,
Thus weeping sayde this Lady rufully:
I hearing this from thence departed spedilye.
And left in wofull plight, this Dame drownd vp with teares,
Whose vertues, in women full rarely now appeares.
But al you Ladies, Wiues, and Maides eache one,
Of what degree or yet estate you bee:
No doubte although Lucrecia bee gone,
As myrrour maye remaine, this storye when you see.
So may you learne the gifte of chastitye,
What loue you ought your husbandes for to beare,
In spending of her daies, the profe doeth plaine apeare.
O wretched wight (quod he) howe dare I shewe my face?
The earth doeth threate this wilfull acte of myne:
It is, and wilbe Iudgde I wanted grace,
Thus losing honour, I steynde my Auncientes line.
At all that beare my name, the people doe repine.
Yea the very stones that in the streates doe lye,
Into the Heauens, vpon this crime doe crye.
Then wished shee Ipolas happye chaunce,
Or Virgineas ende, or Didos long agoe:
(Quod shee) thereof this deede, false Taquine should not vaunce,
That nowe for euer, shame abroade shal bloe.
And shall my husband weete him serued so?
That shall hee not, (quod shee) a swoorde shee tooke,
In blattering blood, the vitiall breath forsooke.
Loe Morpheus, alas, nowe haue I tolde thee all,
And of my being here, the cause wherefore and whye.
Nowe mayst thou thinke, my grace was very small,
That in my life coulde not for mercye crye.


But wickednesse craues vengeaunce, to the skye.
And not without a cause the Gods doe punishe hate,
And so they doe al them that liue in whoredome state.
But Morpheus, Morpheus, sith thou seest my lot,
A blessed deede it is, the same for to declare:
From Ritche and Poore, I praye the hide it not,
Proclaime howe wicked men rewarded are.
From Pride and whoredome, wishe thy friendes beware
The time is short on earth they haue to dwell,
But endles tormentes euer bide in hell.
If mortall men did knowe, what paine is heare,
Then woulde they lothe the worlde they loue so well:
Their pompe, their Pride, and all theyr glittering geare,
To punishe the paunche, some feare would sure compell.
All treason and fleshlye fraude, for to expell.
All Tyrantes trades no doubte, they would forgoe,
And if they felt the least of this my woe.
But hee that blinded is, with ease and wealth,
Their rauisht heartes hath dulde their wittes as lead:
Gods feare is gone, and eache man for him selfe,
To purchase pelfe the worldling toyles his head.
The Childe forgettes his Father being dead.
To taste of death him selfe, no deale mistrust,
Tyll grizlye ghost do blowe, that needes away he must.
Alas howe vaine is all thing on the earth,
What care to catche, what feare to keepe it still:
What sorrowe it settes, where should bee ioye and mirth,
Ingendering hate, there as should bee good will.
Prouoking wrath, The verye spirite to spill.
And yet beholde howe euerye man doth watche,
And with the trowte the choking hoke doth catche.


And thus fare well nowe gette you hence from mee,
You knowe my minde, deale in it as you will:
My wicked acte, and iuste rewarde you see,
And howe my paine increaseth euer still.
Awaye (quod hee) beholde downe yonder hill
Alecto comes with flaming flashing winges,
For pride & whordome, a thousand plagues shee brings.
Then streight departed wee and left him there,
And wandering vp and downe, those smokye pittes:
Mee thought a rufull voice, as it a woman were,
Fast bye, declard what plagues shee felt by fittes.
To heare her plaint I almost lost my wittes.
On whoredome still shee cryed, woe worth that wicked sinne,
That mortal fleshe so much deliteth in.
But when I calde to minde the leade wherein,
I sawe Tarquinus lye, with flames of Brimstone whote:
In middes whereof, hee stoode vp to the chinne,
All blubberid with blisters, alas not free one spotte,
And howe with sodden Pitche, his body all was blotte.
Twoo fiends shot thonderboltes, at him on either side,
Whereat hee dowkes, his careful face to hide.
Thus in this fornace, amid these boyling heates.
Hee standeth to the Chin, but when hee dowketh soe:
And thus the sezing dartes, ofte in his visage beates,
The feare thereof increaseth double woe.
Thus Tarquine was rewarded, and so were thousandes moe.
That had theyr factes declared to theyr face,
Which was to late as then, to crye for grace.