鲁克丽丝受辱记(1) The Rape of Lucrece.(1)
英： DEDICATION TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD 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, make 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 lifestill lengthened with all happiness. Your lordship's in all duty, William Shakespeare 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 all 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; and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause of her 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 dead body 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 the people 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. ROM 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. Haply that name of chaste unhapp'ly set This bateless edge on his keen appetite; When Collatine unwisely did not let To praise the clear unmatched red and white Which triumphed in that sky of his delight, Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, Unlocked the treasure of his happy state; What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent In the possession of his beauteous mate; Reck'ning his fortune at such high-proud rate That kings might be espoused to more fame, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. O happiness enjoyed but of a few! And, if possessed, as soon decayed and done As is the morning silver-melting dew Against the golden splendour of the sun! An expired date, cancelled ere well begun: Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, Are weakly fortressed from a world of harms. Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator; What needeth then apology 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? Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sov'reignty 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-pitched thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt That golden hap which their superiors want. 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, wrapped in repentant cold, Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old! 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 bragged, beauty would blush for shame; When beauty boasted blushes, in despite Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white. But beauty, in that white entituled, 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 called it then their shield; Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, When shame assailed, the red should fence the white. This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen, Argued by beauty's red and virtue's white; Of either's colour was the other queen, Proving from world's minority their right; Yet their ambition makes them still to fight, The sovereignty of either being so great That oft they interchange each other's seat. This silent war of lilies and of roses Which Tarquin viewed in her fair face's field, In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses; Where, lest between them both it should be killed, The coward captive vanquished doth yield To those two armies that would let him go Rather than triumph in so false a foe. Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue, The niggard prodigal that praised her so, In that high task hath done her beauty wrong, Which far exceeds his barren skill to show; Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. This earthly saint, adored by this devil, Little suspecteth the false worshipper; "For unstained thoughts do seldom dream on evil; "Birds never limed no secret bushes fear. So guiltless she securely gives good cheer And reverend welcome to her princely guest, Whose inward ill no outward harm expressed; For that he coloured with his high estate, Hiding base sin in pleats of majesty; That nothing in him seemed inordinate, Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, Which, having all, all could not satisfy; But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store That cloyed with much he pineth still for more. But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies Writ in the glassy margents of such books. She touched no unknown baits, nor feared no hooks; Nor could she moralize his wanton sight, More than his eyes were opened to the light. He stories to her ears her husband's fame, Won in the fields of fruitful Italy; And decks with praises Collatine's high name, Made glorious by his manly chivalry With bruised arms and wreaths of victory. Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express, And wordless so greets heaven for his success. Far from the purpose of his coming thither, He makes excuses for his being there. No cloudy show of stormy blust'ring weather Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear; Till sable Night, mother of dread and fear, Upon the world dim darkness doth display, And in her vaulty prison stows the day. For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, Intending weariness with heavy sprite; For after supper long he questioned With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night. Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight; And every one to rest himself betakes, Save thieves and cares and troubled minds that wakes. As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining; Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining; Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining, And when great treasure is the meed proposed, Though death be adjunct, there's no death supposed. Those that much covet are with gain' so fond That what they have not, that which they possess, They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less; Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain. The aim of all is but to nurse the life With honour, wealth and ease, in waning age; And in this aim there is such thwarting strife That one for all or all for one we gage: As life for honour in fell battle's rage; Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost The death of all, and all together lost. So that in vent'ring ill we leave to be The things we are for that which we expect; And this ambitious foul infirmity, In having much, torments us with defect Of that we have; so then we do neglect The thing we have, and, all for want of wit, Make something nothing by augmenting it. Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, Pawning his honour to obtain his lust; And for himself himself he must forsake: Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? When shall he think to find a stranger just When he himself himself confounds, betrays To sland'rous tongues and wretched hateful days? Now stole upon the time the dead of night, When heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes; No comfortable star did lend his light, No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries; Now serves the season that they may surprise The silly lambs. Pure thoughts are dead and still, While lust and murder wakes to stain and kill. And now this lustful lord, leaped from his bed, Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm, Is madly tossed between desire and dread; Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm; But honest fear, bewitched with lust's foul charm, Doth too too oft betake him to retire, Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly, Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; And to the flame thus speaks advisedly: 'As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, So Lucrece must I force to my desire.' Here pale with fear he doth premeditate The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, And in his inward mind he doth debate What following sorrow may on this arise; Then, looking scornfully, he doth despise His naked armour of still-slaughtered lust, And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust: 'Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not To darken her whose light excelleth thine; And die, unhallowed thoughts, before you blot With your uncleanness that which is divine; Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine; Let fair humanity abhor the deed That spots and stains love's modest snow-white weed. 'O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! O foul dishonour to my household's grave! O impious act, including all foul harms! A martial man to be soft fancy's slave! True valour still a true respect should have; Then my digression is so vile, so base, That it will live engraven in my face. 'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, To cipher me how fondly I did dote; That my posterity, shamed with the note, Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin To wish that I their father had not been. 'What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy- Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down' 'If Collatinus dream of my intent, Will he not wake, and in a desp'rate rage Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent?- This siege that hath engirt his marriage, This blur to youth,' this sorrow to the sage, This dying virtue, this surviving shame, Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame. 'O what excuse can my invention make, When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake, Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed? The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed; And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, But coward-like with trembling terror die. 'Had Collatinus killed my son or sire, Or lain in ambush to betray my life, Or were he not my dear friend, this desire Might have excuse to work upon his wife, As in revenge or quittal of such strife; But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend, The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end. 'Shameful it is-ay, if the fact be known; Hateful it is-there is no hate in loving; I'll beg her love-but she is not her own; The worst is but denial and reproving. My will is strong, past reason's weak removing.- Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.' Thus graceless holds he disputation 'Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will, And with good thoughts makes dispensation, Urging the worser sense for vantage still; Which in a moment doth confound and kill All pure effects, and doth so far proceed That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed. Quoth he, 'She took me kindly by the hand, And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes, Fearing some hard news from the warlike band Where her beloved Collatinus lies. O how her fear did make her colour rise! First red as roses that on lawn we lay, Then white as lawn, the roses took away. 'And how her hand, in my hand being locked, Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear! Which struck her sad, and then it faster rocked Until her husband's welfare she did hear; Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer That had Narcissus seen her as she stood Self-love had never drowned him in the flood. 'Why hunt I then for colour or excuses? All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth; Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth; Affection is my captain, and he leadeth; And when his gaudy banner is displayed, The coward fights and will not be dismayed. 'Then childish fear avaunt! debating die! Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age! My heart shall never countermand mine eye; Sad pause and deep regard beseems the sage; My part is youth, and beats these from the stage: Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize; Then who fears sinking where such treasure lies?' As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear Is almost choked by unresisted lust. Away he steals with open list'ning car, Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust; Both which, as servitors to the unjust, So cross him with their opposite persuasion That now he vows a league and now invasion. Within his thought her heavenly image sits, And in the selfsame seat sits Collatine. That eye which looks on her confounds his wits; That eye which him beholds, as more divine, Unto a view so false will not incline; But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, Which once corrupted takes the worser part; And therein heartens up his servile powers, Who, flatt'red by their leader's jocund show, Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. By reprobate desire thus madly led, The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. The locks between her chamber and his will, Each one by him enforced, retires his ward; But, as they open, they all rate his ill, Which drives the creeping thief to some regard. The threshold grates the door to have him heard; Night-wand'ring weasels shriek to see him there; They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. As each unwilling portal yields him way, Through little vents and crannies of the place The wind wars with his torch to make him stay, And blows the smoke of it into his face, Extinguishing his conduct in this case; But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch, Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch; And being lighted, by the light he spies Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks; He takes it from the rushes where it lies, And griping it, the needle his finger pricks, As who should say 'This glove to wanton tricks Is not inured. Return again in haste; Thou see'st our mistress' ornaments are chaste.' But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him; He in the worst sense consters their denial: The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him, He takes for accidental things of trial; Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial, Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let, Till every minute pays the hour his debt. 'So, so,' quoth he, 'these lets attend the time, Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring, To add a more rejoicing to the prime, And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing. Pain pays the income of each precious thing; Huge rocks; high winds, strong pirates, shelves and sands The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.' Now is he come unto the chamber door That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, Which with a yielding latch, and with no more, Hath barred him from the blessed thing he sought. So from himself impiety hath wrought, That for his prey to pray he doth begin, As if the heavens should countenance his sin. But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer, Having solicited th' eternal power That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair, And they would stand auspicious to the hour, Even there he starts; quoth he 'I must deflower: The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact; How can they then assist me in the act? 'Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide! My will is backed with resolution. Thoughts are but dreams.till their effects be tried; The blackest sin is cleared with absolution; Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution. The eye of heaven is out, and misty night Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.' This said, his guilty hand plucked up the latch, And with his knee the door he opens wide. The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch. Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside; But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting. Into the chamber wickedly he stalks And gazeth on her yet unstained bed. The curtains being close, about he walks, Rolling his greedy eyeballs in his head. By their high treason is his heart misled, Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. Look as the fair and fiery-pointed sun, Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight; Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun To wink, being blinded with a greater light; Whether it is that she reflects so bright That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed, But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed. O, had they in that darksome prison died! Then had they seen the period of their ill; Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side, In his clear bed might have reposed still; But they must ope, this blessed league to kill; And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight. Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Coz'ning the pillow of a lawful kiss; Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, Swelling on either side to want his bliss; Between whose hills her head entombed is; Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, To be admired of lewd unhallowed eyes. Without the bed her other fair hand was, On the green coverlet; whose perfect white Showed like an April daisy on the grass, With pearly sweat resembling dew of night. Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light, And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorn the day. Her hair, like golden threads, played with her breath- O modest wantons! wanton modesty!- Showing life's triumph in the map of death, And death's dim look in life's mortality: Each in her sleep themselves so beautify As if between them, twain there were no strife, But that life lived in death and death in life. Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew, And him by oath they truly honoured. These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred, Who like a foul usurper went about From this fair throne to heave the owner out. What could he see but mightily he noted? What did he note but strongly he desired? What he beheld, on that he firmly doted, And in his will his wilful eye he tired. With more than admiration he admired Her azure veins, her alabaster skin, Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey, Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied, So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay, His rage of lust by gazing qualified; Slacked, not suppressed; for standing by her side, His eye, which late this mutiny restrains, Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins; And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting, Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting, In bloody death and ravishment delighting, Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans respecting, Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting. Anon his beating heart, alarum striking Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking. His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, His eye commends the leading to his hand; His hand, as proud of such a dignity, Smoking with pride, marched on to make his stand On her bare breast, the heart of all her land; Whose ranks of blue veins as his hand did scale, Left their round turrets destitute and pale. They, must'ring to the quiet cabinet Where their dear governess and lady lies, Do tell her she is dreadfully beset, And fright her with confusion of their cries. She, much amazed, breaks ope her locked-up eyes, Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold, Are by his flaming torch dimmed and controlled. Imagine her as one in dead of night From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking; What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking, From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view The sight which makes supposed terror true. Wrapped and confounded in a thousand fears, Like to a new-killed bird she trembling lies; She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes. "Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries, Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights, In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights. His hand that yet remains upon her breast- Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!- May feel her heart, poor citizen, distressed, Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall, Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. This moves in him more rage and lesser pity, To make the breach and enter this sweet city. First like a trumpet doth his tongue begin To sound a parley to his heartless foe, Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin, The reason of this rash alarm to know, Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show; But she with vehement prayers urgeth still Under what colour he commits this ill. Thus he replies: 'The colour in thy face, That even for anger makes the lily pale And the red rose blush at her own disgrace, Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale. Under that colour am I come to scale Thy never-conquered fort. The fault is thine, For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. 'Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide: Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night, Where thou with patience must my will abide, My will that marks thee for my earth's delight, Which I to conquer sought with all my might; But as reproof and reason beat it dead, By thy bright beauty was it newly bred. 'I see what crosses my attempt will bring; I know what thorns the growing rose defends; I think the honey guarded with a sting; All this beforehand counsel comprehends. But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends; Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty. 'I have debated, even in my soul, What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed; But nothing can affection's course control, Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. I know repentant tears ensue the deed, Reproach, disdain and deadly enmity; Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.' 中： 献与扫桑普顿伯爵兼提齐菲尔男爵亨利•娄赛斯雷阁下 我对阁下的敬爱是没有止境的；这本没有头绪的小书，只显示这种敬爱流露出来的一小部分而已。是您高贵的秉性，而不是这些鄙俚诗句的价值，保证拙作得蒙嘉纳。我已做的一切属于您；我该做的一切属于您；凡为我所有者，也就必定属于您。我若更有才能，我对您也会更有价值；目前，却只能照现有的情况，将这一切奉献给阁下。谨祝阁下延年益寿，福祚绵绵。 阁下的忠仆 威廉•莎士比亚 故事梗概* 路修斯•塔昆纽斯①（他由于极端倨傲，被称为“塔昆纽斯•苏佩布斯”②）用凶残手段将其岳父塞维乌斯•图琉斯置于死地之后，违反罗马的法律和常规，不曾征得或俟得人民的同意，径自攫取了王位。后来，他率领诸王子和罗马其他贵族，去围攻阿狄亚城③。 在攻城战役中，一天晚上，罗马众将领在王子塞克斯图斯•塔昆纽斯的营帐里聚会；晚饭后闲谈时，每人都夸耀自己夫人的美德，其中柯拉廷努斯④更盛赞其妻鲁克丽丝贞淑无比。 在这种愉快心情里，他们并辔向罗马疾驰，意欲借此意外的突然到达，来验证各自的夫人对这种赞誉是否当之无愧。结果发现：惟独柯拉廷努斯的妻子深夜仍率侍女纺绩，其他贵妇则正在跳舞、饮宴或嬉游。 于是众贵族一致承认了柯拉廷努斯的优胜，一致首肯了他的夫人的令名。 这时，塞克斯图斯•塔昆纽斯已因鲁克丽丝的美貌而动心，但暂时遏制欲念，偕众人返回军营；不久，他就私自离开营地，来到柯拉廷城堡⑤，凭他王子的身份，受到鲁克丽丝优渥的款待，并在城堡中留宿。 当夜，他背信弃义地潜入鲁克丽丝的卧室，强暴地污辱了她，而于翌日凌晨仓皇遁去。 鲁克丽丝悲恸欲绝，火速派遣两名信差，其一到罗马去请她父亲，其二到军营去请柯拉廷。 他们两个，一个由裘涅斯•勃鲁托斯⑥陪同，另一个由浦布琉斯•瓦勒柔斯⑦陪同，来到城堡，发现鲁克丽丝披着丧服，便惊问她悲痛的原因。 她首先叫他们立誓为她复仇，然后揭露了罪犯的名字及其罪行，接着便猝然举刀自杀。 在场的人们目睹这一惨变，便一致宣誓：要把十恶不赦的塔昆家族一举攘除。他们抬着死者的尸身来到罗马，由勃鲁托斯将这一惨祸的祸首及其罪行告知人民，并严厉抨击国王的暴政。罗马人民怒不可遏，经口头表决，一致同意将塔昆家族的人尽行放逐，国政遂由国王转入执政官之手。 淫念熏心的塔昆，从罗马军营溜号， 不可凭恃的邪欲，举双翼将他引导； 他急急忙忙赶路，揣着无光的火苗—— 这火苗藏在灰烬里，只等时机一到， 会燃起烈焰一团，前去紧紧环抱 柯拉廷贞淑的妻子——鲁克丽丝的纤腰。 也许，偏偏不幸，正是这“贞淑”的美名 勾起了塔昆的情欲，犹如给利刀添刃； 只因不智的柯拉廷，不应该百般赞颂 是何种无与伦比的，明丽的嫩白与嫣红 显耀在她的脸上——那是他仰慕的天穹； 那儿，伊人的星眸，亮似天国的银星， 以冰清玉洁的柔辉，向他效忠致敬。 只因前一天夜晚，在塔昆王子的帐幕， 他不该向众人揭示他所享有的艳福， 说是上天赐予他无比珍贵的财富—— 与这美貌的淑女，结成美满的眷属； 他矜夸他的幸运，口气高傲而自负， 说是帝王贵胄们尽管威名卓著， 他们却休想匹配这位无匹的仙姝。 世间有几个幸运儿，曾尽情享受欢悦！ 即使让人享有了，欢悦也易于幻灭， 急遽有如清晓一珠珠银白的露液， 在骄阳金辉凌迫下，消失得不知不觉。 还未曾好好开始，便只得草草了结。 淑女的丽质荣名，托庇于主人的肘腋， 未免防护欠周，难抵挡万般罪孽。 不需滔滔的辩才，不需娓娓的谈吐， “美”本身自有权威，把睽睽众目说服； 那么，柯拉廷又何苦喋喋不休地申述， 在稠人广众之间，赞颂那无双的宝物？ 既然那稀世之珍，是他独占的财富， 就应该深藏不露，谨防觊觎的耳目， 为什么它的主公，偏将它广为传布？ 他自夸艳福无比——做鲁克丽丝的主君， 也许，这恰恰怂恿了倨傲的王子塔昆； 人们邪念的萌动，往往导源于耳闻； 也许，由于这王子艳羡这异宝奇珍， 无情的对比刺痛了他那高傲的自尊—— 品位较低的臣属，竟能够夸耀他们 享有他们的尊长也不曾享有的福分。 若不是这些缘由，必另有非分的念头 暗地里挑逗指使，促成这鲁莽的步骤： 把他的显赫地位、荣誉、功业、亲友， 一股脑儿丢在脑后，只顾狂奔疾走， 为平息炽烈的情欲，急切地求索不休。 这轻狂欲念的热焰，会卷入悔恨的寒流， 过早的萌芽会凋萎，永没有长大的时候！ 这王子来到城堡，来到柯拉廷邸宅， 受到了鲁克丽丝殷勤优渥的接待； 只见她的面颊间，“美”与“德”互相比赛， 争辩着：她的声誉，是靠谁撑举起来； 当“德”自鸣得意，“美”就羞红了脸腮； 当“美”嫣然炫耀那一片绯红的霞彩， “德”就轻蔑地涂染它，给它抹一层银白。 “美”以维纳斯的白鸽作为凭证和理由，⑧ 说“德”占有的白色，应该归“美”所有； 对“美”占有的红颜，“德”也提出要求， 说红颜本来属于“德”，由“德”亲手传授 给芳华盛放的少女，让两颊红白相糅，让红颜充当金盾，当羞辱来犯的时候， 它就要挺身防守，把白色掩护在身后， “德”的莹洁的白色，“美”的浓艳的红装。 在鲁克丽丝脸上，勾出瑰丽的纹章， 红颜、白色都争做两种颜色的女王； 为证明它们的权柄，追溯到远古洪荒， 争夺王位的雄心，使它们互不相让； 双方威力都强大，真个是旗鼓相当， 时而这一方占先，时而那一方居上。 塔昆仿佛瞧见了：百合与玫瑰的兵丁⑨ 以她的秀颊为战场，进行着无声的战争； 这两支纯正的队伍，围住他奸邪的眼睛； 在两军对垒之中，惟恐丢失了性命， 这卑怯败北的俘虏，向两军屈服投诚；⑩ 它们发现擒获的是一个冒牌的谬种， 宁可将它放走，也不愿奏凯庆功。 这时他不禁想起：她丈夫的俗调凡腔， 虽盛赞她的美貌，其实是将她诬枉； 有如悭吝的浪子，难将这重任承当， 他那贫乏的口才，远不配将她颂扬。 对这丽质的礼赞，柯拉廷亏下的欠账， 心神眩惑的塔昆，用玄思遐想来补偿， 他睁着惊奇的两眼，张口结舌地凝望。 这位人间的圣徒，受到这魔鬼的崇奉， 对这伪善的朝拜者，不曾有些许疑心； 纯净无瑕的心灵，难得做一场噩梦， 没上过当的鸟雀，不惧怕诡秘的幽林； 无邪的鲁克丽丝，安心接待了贵宾， 以殷勤和悦的风度，向王子表示欢迎； 他外貌温文有礼，看不出内心奸佞。 他用尊贵的身份，掩饰歹恶的心机， 将他卑劣的罪孽，藏入威严的外衣； 他不曾显露什么逾越礼法的形迹， 只除了有时眼睛里流露过多的惊奇； 眼睛已享有一切，仍未能餍足心意； 虽豪富却又似贫穷，贪欲永远无底， 攫取的已经太多，仍渴求更多的东西。 但她从未遭遇过陌生人目光的窥伺， 从含情欲语的双眸，看不出任何暗示； 这一本奇异的图书，书页边写有注释，⑾ 而她却不曾领悟那幽微闪烁的奥旨； 她全未虑及钓钩，她从未触及诱饵； 她只见塔昆的两眼，在天光白日中注视， 那轻狂目光的含意，她却茫然不知。 他向她耳边述说：意大利这片沃土上， 她丈夫战功赫赫，博得了新的荣光； 他用谀词来赞美柯拉廷崇高的声望， 说他的勇武气概，更使他威名远扬， 头戴胜利的花冠，身披受创的戎装； 她听了，把手儿举起，表达内心的欢畅， 为他的这番成就，默默地祝谢上苍。 塔昆不动声色，隐藏起真实图谋， 信口胡诌了一篇前来造访的借口； 在他晴朗的天空里，始终也不曾闪露 预示风暴将临的阴霾滚滚的征候； 直到浓黑的夜晚——恐怖和畏惧的母后， 舒展晦冥的暗影，覆罩无垠的宇宙， 在穹窿为顶的狱里，把天光白日幽囚。 于是塔昆被引到供他安寝的处所， 自称身子困乏，精神也不复振作； 因为他晚餐以后，与鲁克丽丝对坐， 交谈了不短的时光，不觉把夜晚消磨； 如今浓重的睡意，与生命的精力相搏； 人人到这个时辰，都要上床安卧， 只有窃贼、忧虑者、骚乱的心灵醒着。 塔昆就属于这一伙，睡不着，心里嘀咕， 盘算着：要满足心愿，会遇到哪些险阻； 他明知希望微茫，不如抽身退步， 却还是断然决定：让心愿得到满足； 获利无望的时候，会更加惟利是图； 只要预期的犒赏是一宗名贵的宝物， 哪怕有性命之忧，也全然置之不顾。 贪多务得的人们，痴迷地谋求取到 那尚未取到的种种，原有的却执掌不牢， 那已经取到的种种，便因此松脱、丢掉： 他们贪求的愈多，他们占有的愈少； 或是占有的虽多，而由于填塞得过饱， 结果是疳积难消，反而备尝苦恼， 他们是假富真穷，成了破产的富豪。 人人都希求荣誉、财富、安宁的晚景， 而为了赢得它们，要经历险阻重重， 有时为它们全体，丢弃其中的一种， 有时为其中一种，将全体丢弃一空； 鏖战时激情如火，为荣誉可舍生命； 为财富可舍荣誉；财富常招致纷争， 终于毁灭了一切，一切都丧失干净。 我们若肆意贪求，来满足某种希冀， 也就迷失了本性，不再是我们自己； 当我们资财丰裕，可憎的贪婪恶癖 偏叫人想到缺欠，把我们折磨不已； 这样，对已得的资财，我们置之不理； 只因少了点聪明，我们且取且弃， 通过不断的增殖，变成一贫如洗。 如今昏聩的塔昆，必得走这步险棋—— 为成全他的淫欲，而断送他的荣誉； 为了满足他自己，必得毁弃他自己： 丧失了自信自尊，真诚又从何谈起？ 既然他自戕其理智，甘愿在尔后的时期 苦度悲惨的生涯，长遭世人的唾弃， 又怎能指望别人对待他不偏不倚？ 夜深人静的时刻，已经悄悄来临， 困倦昏沉的睡意，合拢了众人的眼睛； 没一颗可意的星儿，肯挂出它的明灯， 只有枭啼与狼嗥，预告死亡的凶讯—— 枭与狼攫捕羔羊，正好趁这个时辰； 纯良温雅的意念，都已寂然入定， 淫欲和杀机却醒着，要污辱、屠戮生灵。 情焰正炽的王子，这时便一跃起床， 把他的那件披风，匆匆搭在胳臂上； 在“邪欲”与“畏惧”之间，昏昏然犹豫彷徨—— 前者婉媚地煽惑，后者怕引起祸殃； 然而，朴实的“畏惧”，惑于情焰的魔障， 虽也曾再三再四劝主人抽身退让， 到头来终归败北，挡不住“邪欲”的癫狂。 塔昆在一块燧石上，轻轻敲击着宝剑， 让那冰冷的石头，爆出了火星点点， 这时他略不迟延，将一支蜡炬点燃， 让它像北极星那样，指引他淫邪的两眼； 对着闪烁的烛火，他从容果决地开言： “这块冰冷的顽石，我逼它冒出火焰， 同样，对鲁克丽丝，我也要逼她就范。” 脸色因恐惧而苍白，他真真切切地预计 他这可憎的图谋将招致的种种危机； 在他纷乱的内心，他反反复复地猜疑， 盘算着：这桩恶行，会带来什么忧戚； 终于，以轻蔑的神情，他干干脆脆地鄙弃 这豪不足恃的依托——这随泄随消的淫欲，⑿ 于是正直地钳制了这种不正直的心意： “荧荧悦目的蜡炬，快收敛你的光芒， 莫让这光芒遮暗了那比你更亮的形象！ 在犯罪以前死去吧，亵渎神明的狂想！ 莫让那完美的圣物沾染上你的肮脏！ 向那洁净的庙堂，献上洁净的仙香； 有什么行为玷污了爱情的雪白衣裳， 纯良正直的人们就该痛责其刁妄。 “给骑士的身份贻羞，叫雪亮的刀熗受辱！ 使我地下的祖先，蒙受难堪的亵渎！ 这侮慢神明的恶行，有无穷后患隐伏； 我横戈跃马的男儿，岂能做柔情的俘虏； 要具有真正的品德，才算得真正的勇武； 我若是胡作非为，这卑劣罪行的垢污 会留痕在我脸上，会刻入我的肌肤。 “是的，纵然我死了，丑名会继续留存， 成为我金质纹章上一块刺目的斑痕；⒀ 纹章官将要设计某种可憎的纹印， 表明我如何愚妄，又如何色令智昏； 因这一耻辱的标记而含羞抱恨的子孙 会诅咒我的枯骨，也不怕‘不孝’的罪名， 惟愿我——他们的先人，不曾在世上出生。 “就算我如愿以偿，又有什么能得到？ 飞逝的欢情像幻梦，像空气，又像水泡！ 谁肯以一星期悲悼，买来一分钟欢笑？ 或为了一件玩意儿，把永生的灵魂卖掉？ 谁肯把葡萄藤拆毁，只为了尝一颗甜葡萄？ 有哪个痴愚的乞丐，会这样不知分晓—— 为了摸一摸王冠，情愿被御杖击倒？ “柯拉廷若在睡梦中，梦见我此行的目的， 岂不会惶遽地醒来，怀着狂暴的愤激， 匆促地赶回城堡，制止这卑污的主意， 制止这无端的侵犯——对美满姻缘的袭击， 这伤害贤人的灾祸，这玷辱青春的污迹， 这绵延无尽的羞耻，这扼杀贞节的暴力， 这种千秋万世永遭谴责的罪戾？ “有朝一日你指控这桩污黑的罪孽， 我的口才编得出什么理由来辩解？ 我的舌头会沉默，我的视力会消歇， 脆弱的骨节会震颤，欺诈的心房会流血！ 罪行是这般严酷，恐惧却更为酷烈， 既无力迎敌作战，也无处奔逃退却， 像失魂丧胆的懦夫，战兢兢伫候毁灭。 “柯拉廷若是残杀过我家的父王或王孙， 或曾经埋伏截击，要谋害我的性命， 要么，如果他不是我的亲近的友人， 我凌犯他的妻子，总还算事出有因， 可说是冤冤相报，是他罪行的报应； 然而他偏偏却是我的密友和姻亲， 这凌辱就没有借口，这罪咎也没有止境。 “这是可耻的；——不过，这是说传扬了出去； 这是可恨的；——不对，爱与恨不能共居； 我定在向她求爱；——但她已身不由己； 最糟的遭遇也无非遭到她申斥和峻拒； 我意志坚不可摧，理智又岂能干预！ 谁要是敬畏箴言，敬畏老人的谚语， 瞧见了墙上的画幅，他也会肃然悚惧。”⒁ 在他乖戾的内心，掀起了一场争辩： 一边是凝冻的良知，一边是炽烈的情焰； 他自欺欺人地抛开了善良正直的心愿， 却怂恿猥劣的邪思操执优胜的左券； 这邪思立即戕害了一切纯良的意念， 获得了长足的进展，淆乱了美恶的界限， 使卑污恣肆的行径，俨然像至善至贤。 他说：“她和颜悦色，轻轻握住我的手， 凝视我痴迷的两眼，想从中探问情由， 惟恐我会有什么不祥的音讯说出口， 因为她挚爱的柯拉廷正在前方战斗。 红云涌上她腮颊，当恐惧涌上心头！ 酡红如玫瑰两朵，偶在素绢上勾留； 而后又皓白如素绢，玫瑰已被携走。 “我的手紧握她的手，两只手绞在一起， 她的因惊恐而抖动，我的也跟着颤栗； 这叫她更加疑惧，手儿也抖得更急， 直到她确切听到了丈夫平安的信息， 她这才开颜一笑，更显得娇媚无比； 要是那耳喀索斯瞧见她亭亭玉立， 他就决不会顾影自怜，投身水底。 “那么，我还用寻求什么借口或伪装？ 一旦‘美’现身说法，说客们都不再开腔； 可怜虫才为可怜的过失而自悔孟浪， 心灵若顾虑重重，爱苗就难于生长； 爱情是我的指挥官，他给我指引方向； 只要他明艳的旌旗赫然招展在前方， 胆小鬼也会奋战，而不会惊惶沮丧。 “滚开吧，幼稚的恐惧！终止吧，卑琐的盘算！ 让理智和礼法去陪伴满面皱纹的老汉！ 我的心永远不会违拗我眼睛的决断， 周详的思考和斟酌仅仅适宜于圣贤； 我是个年轻角色，那一套都与我无缘； 我的舵手是情欲，我的目标是红颜； 只要那边有珍宝，谁害怕沉船遇险？” 正好比稀稀禾苗，被萋萋恶草掩蔽， 审慎的顾虑几乎被猖狂的欲念窒息。 他竖起耳朵倾听，偷偷举步前移， 满怀无耻的希冀，满腹无聊的猜疑； 希冀、猜疑仿佛是恶人的两名仆役， 让他们相忤的主张交错于他的脑际， 使他一会儿想收兵，一会儿又想进袭。 潜思中，他恍惚瞥见她天仙一般的形象， 还恍惚瞥见柯拉廷，也与她同在那厢； 向她望着的那只眼，搅得他心神迷惘； 向他望着的那只眼，却较为虔敬忠良， 不肯屈从于这种背信弃义的意向， 发出纯真的呼吁，求心灵作出主张； 但心灵既经腐蚀，竟投向恶的一方。 这就大大怂恿了他那些卑劣的情思： 见心灵洋洋自得，它们也踌躇满志， 涨满了他的淫欲，像分秒填满了小时； 自吹互捧过了头，它们越来越骄恣， 竟与它们的统帅——心灵毫无二致。 听任奸邪的欲念如此癫狂地指使， 罗马王子直趋鲁克丽丝的卧室。 在她的居室与他的欲望之间的铁锁， 被他用强力胁迫，一把一把都松脱； 但它们开启的时候，都将这暴行叱责， 促使这潜行的窃贼有些顾忌和忐忑； 门槛把门扇磨响，想要惊醒熟睡者； 夜间游荡的鼬鼠，觑见他，尖声叫着， 这些都令他悚惧，但他仍寻求不舍。 一扇一扇的门儿，没奈何给他让道； 一股一股的风儿，钻出缝隙和孔窍， 向他的炬火袭击，将他的行动阻挠， 还对准他的面庞，吹去了乌烟袅袅， 终于吹熄了蜡炬——他赖以前进的向导； 但他滚烫的心胸，已经被欲火烤焦， 喷出了另一股热风，又将那蜡炬点着。 炬火重放光明，他借这亮光辨认 鲁克丽丝的手套（其中插着一枚针）； 他从灯心草上面，把手套拾起、握紧，⒂ 猝然间疼痛连心，手指被针尖刺进； 针儿仿佛在警告：“这手套从未惯经 这种淫邪的丑事，快快退步抽身！ 你瞧，我们主母的衣饰也这样坚贞。” 但这些无力的阻碍，都无法将他羁绊； 他以恶人的歪理，来解释这些事件： 门扉、夜风、手套，一路上将他阻拦， 他都看成不过是一些意外的考验； 恰似那两根指针，控制着时钟的运转， 一步步慢慢悠悠，故意把进程延缓， 让每分每秒都把该干的差事干完。 “这样看来，”他说，“这些梗阻的出现， 正如料峭的余寒有时袭扰春天， 好让尔后的韶光格外惹人眷恋， 好让冻缩的鸟雀有理由唱得更欢。 经受过磨难的好事，会显得分外甘甜； 遍历巨岩、烈风、悍盗、沙碛和礁险， 商贾才能腰缠万贯，回转家园。” 如今他步步逼近了那间卧室的门户， 紧闭的门扉隔开了他心驰神往的乐土； 除了那脆弱的门闩，那儿再别无他物 阻挡他前去接近他奋力以求的艳福。 逆天背理的邪念，搅得他神志糊涂： 为了攫捕那猎物，他开始切切祷祝， 俨如上天会赞助他这罪恶的意图。 在他那徒劳无益的喃喃祈祷的中途， 业已向永恒的神明卑词乞求佑助： 让他猥鄙的心愿到时候得以餍足， 让那贞淑的美人儿到时候由他摆布； 他蓦地惊起，说道：“我这是要让她受辱， 我所祈求的神明，对这事只有憎恶， 那么，他们又怎会在暗中将我呵护？ “那就让‘爱情’和‘幸运’当我的向导、我的神！ 我有坚毅的决心，作我意图的后盾； 心愿未付诸实施，就只不过是幻梦， 罪孽不管多污浊，宽宥能将它涤清； 一遇爱情的火焰，畏怯的霜雪就消融。 上苍的眼睛隐匿了，让这溟濛的夜影⒃ 把欢情带来的羞耻掩蔽得一干二净。” 塔昆说到这里，用手把门闩一拽， 再用膝头一顶，那扇门立即敞开。 鸽子悠然安睡，夜枭要将它擒逮； 奸贼未被发觉，奸谋正进行无碍。 人们若瞧见毒蛇，闪避得惟恐不快； 而她，睡梦沉酣，不曾料想到祸害， 毫无戒备，听凭那致命的毒针刺来。 他进入她的卧室，蹑手蹑脚地走路， 耽耽的目光投向她洁白无瑕的床褥； 却只见帐幔四垂，将卧榻严实围护， 他绕床踱来踱去，转动着贪婪的眼珠； 眼珠逞刁弄鬼，把心灵诱入歧途， 心灵迅即向手臂传递无声的暗语， 吩咐它快去曳开遮掩皓月的云雾。 看呵，宛如明艳的红日涌出云霓， 闪闪刺目的金辉，眩惑了我们的视力； 那帐幔一经曳开，他两眼不禁眯起， 比旭日更亮的光华，将他的目力凌逼； 不知究竟是震慑于她那耀眼的妍丽， 还是有羞赧之情蓦现于他的心底， 他两眼一片昏矇，只得继续紧闭。 若是塔昆的两眼在这黑牢中死去，⒄ 那么，它们的罪孽总算有了个结局！ 那么，柯拉廷仍会与鲁克丽丝欢聚， 在这洁净的卧榻上，憩息他困倦的身躯。 但它们必得睁开，来毁灭这双爱侣； 在它们凶光之下，这位圣洁的贞女 必得断送掉生命、福祉、人世的欢愉。 百合般纤手垫在玫瑰色腮颊下边， 枕头想吻这肥颊，被阻隔，不能如愿； 它不禁恼怒起来，仿佛要裂成两段， 两端都勃然隆起，只恨错过了良缘； 她的头悄然埋在枕头的双峰之间； 像一尊贞洁的石像，这淑女倚榻而眠， 让他那淫亵的目光尽情赞美艳羡。 她的另一只纤手，在床边静静低垂， 映衬着淡绿的床单，更显得白净娇美， 像四月雏菊一朵，在草原吐露芳菲， 手上的点点汗珠，像夜晚花间的露水。 她两眼犹如金盏草，已经收敛了灵辉，⒅ 正在陶然安息，隐形于长夜的幽晦， 要等黎明再睁开，好把白天来点缀。 她秀发宛如金丝，伴随着呼吸而颤动： 说是放纵却端庄，说是端庄偏放纵！ 以这幅死的图象来展现生的优胜，⒆ 而又以生的定限来揭示死的阴影； 生与死在她的睡眠中，各自将对方修整， 仿佛它们之间从来就没有纷争， 而是生寓居于死，死也寓居于生。 她的双乳宛如蓝纹纵横的象牙球， 那是不受拘管的两座贞洁的宇宙； 除了亲爱的主君，对谁也不肯屈就， 只对他忠贞敬奉，将誓约始终恪守。 这宇宙在塔昆心底诱发了新的奸谋： 他像个贪鄙的篡贼，立即着手谋求 把在位的主君逐出，把宝座据为己有。 除了他全神注意的，他还能瞧见什么？ 他又会注意什么，除了他所欲攫夺？ 他两眼眈眈凝视，他一心恋恋不舍； 恣意饱看的两眼，竟看得过饱过多。 比爱慕更为炽烈，他销魂摄魄地贪恋着 她那玉石般肌肤，她那淡青色筋络， 那红似珊瑚的唇吻，雪白而含涡的下颏。 有如凶狠的雄狮，抚弄着它的猎物， 饥渴的贪欲已在征服中得到餍足： 俯临这沉睡的贞女，塔昆停下来踌躇， 凝神注视了一阵，欲念已渐趋驯服； 但只是一时的弛缓，而不是真个平伏； 他的眼，在她身边，虽曾将暴行约束， 却嗾使他的血脉，向更大的骚乱奔赴。 他的血脉，像沿途掳掠的散兵游勇， 心如铁石，一味贪求残暴的武功， 耽于屠戮和奸淫，动不动伤生害命， 对孩子的嚎哭、母亲的哀告无动于衷， 骄纵得不可一世，时时企望着进攻； 他那狂跳的心脏，此刻便敲响洪钟， 发出急切的训令，叫血脉随意行动。 他那擂击的心脏，激励了焦灼的眼睛， 他的眼睛便委任他的手充当统领； 得了这美差高位，他的手得意忘形， 热腾腾气焰熏天，雄赳赳向前挺进， 停留在袒露的胸脯——她全部领土的中心； 他的手一触及那儿，蓝色脉管便隐遁， 撇下那一双圆塔：苍白，惨淡，凄清。 仓皇隐遁的血液，汇聚到幽静的内殿⒇ （它们亲爱的主母兀自憩息在里面）， 乱纷纷大呼小叫，惊扰了她的酣眠， 禀告她：她已遭围困，面临可怖的凌犯； 她不禁魂悸魄动，睁开锁闭的两眼， 慌忙向外界窥探，看到这扰攘的事端， 被那明晃晃的炬火，逼得眼花缭乱。 试想若有什么人，正值更深夜静， 蓦地被骇人的幻象，从昏昏沉睡中惊醒， 还以为自己瞥见了什么可怕的幽灵， 它那狞恶的状貌，叫浑身骨节都颤动—— 这是何等的恐怖！她比这更加震恐： 刚刚被唤出梦乡，又目击噩梦般情景， 这使臆想的虚惊，变成身历的实境。 受到千百种恐惧重重围裹和困扰， 她躺在那儿颤栗，像刚被杀伤的小鸟； 不敢睁目而视，闭着眼，也恍如看到 倏忽变换的怪影，各种丑恶的形貌； 这幢幢魅影原是她疲弱脑膜所幻造： 脑膜嗔怪两眼从光明向黑暗潜逃， 就用更可怖的景象，在黑暗中将它们吓倒。 塔昆的那只手掌，还在她胸前逗留着， 好像唐突的撞槌，要把这象牙墙撞破；(21) 察觉那可怜的市民——她的心，遭受窘迫， 自己将自己斵伤，猛然腾跃又跌落， 擂击着她的胸腔，他的手也跟着哆嗦。 他情欲愈益昂扬，怜恤却愈益减弱， 力求打开突破口，进入这迷人的城郭。 这时，塔昆的舌头，像喇叭传达号令， 向他惊惶的对手，奏响了谈判的号声； 她从洁白的衾褥间，露出更白的颔颈， 对这狂暴的侵扰，急于要探问原因； 他用沉默的举止，已向她表明究竟； 但她，热切祈祷着，仍然固请他说明 他打着什么旗号，做出这样的恶行。 于是，塔昆回答：“你娇红嫩白的姿容 （时而使百合苍白失色，满腔羞愤， 时而使玫瑰自惭形秽，满面通红） 一定会为我答辩，会申述我的爱情； 就打着这面旗号，我现在要来攀登 你未经征服的堡垒；责任该由你担承： 全怪你那双媚眼，煽惑了我这双眼睛。 “若是你想斥责我，我已经先发制人： 是你诱人的美貌，陷你于今宵的困境； 我定要从你身上，畅享人世的欢情， 我定要竭尽全力，让这桩美事成功； 对我的这番意愿，你只有屈意顺从； 纵令理性与良知，能将这意愿葬送， 你光彩照人的秀色，又使它重获新生。 “我看出我这种行径会带来什么烦忧； 我知道鲜艳的玫瑰有怎样的尖刺扎手； 我明白芳甜的蜂蜜由蜇人的毒针防守—— 深思熟虑的心胸，早已把这些想透。 但‘意愿’是个聋子，听不进益友的良谋； 他生就一只独眼，专门向美色凝眸， 迷恋于他的所见，置国法天职于脑后。 “我内心也曾揣想：这种丧德的行径 会惹出什么祸害，什么羞辱和不幸； 但没有任何力量，能控制奔突的激情， 能遏止炎炎情焰的心急火燎的行动。 我明知随之而来的，是痛悔，是涕泪淋淋， 是诟责、轻侮、鄙弃，是不共戴天的仇恨， 但我仍奋力以赴，去承接我的恶名。” |
[ 此帖被soneyky在2012-12-19 10:10重新编辑 ]
