day should sufficiently remind you that I did not draw attention to myself and thus the<hr>
misery that befell me. Since then, I have not seen that traitor Sextus Tarquin until the day<hr>
when he defiled my chastity. But tyrants have no power over the will! I am still the same Lucrèce who loved glory so much, for it is certain that mine is totally<hr>
innocent. The tears I shed are not the fruit of my remorse. I do not apologize for the sin I committed, but only for not having died before his. There were two of us in this crime, but only one is guilty, and my conscience does not reproach me for anything, except for preferring my reputation and an honorable death. What caused my misfortune is that I believed that the glory of my death would not be known. I doubted the fairness of the gods, forgetting that they can perform miracles when they wish and that they are protectors of innocence. I lived longer than I should have, for I outlived my chastity. Do not think, Collatin, that I diminish this crime to appease your anger. I see in your eyes more anger towards Sextus Tarquin than hatred towards me. Undoubtedly, you pity me rather than accuse me, and all the deeds of my life contribute to justify me in your soul. Even though I am a victim, I accept that Collatin no longer loves me. Thus, I do not speak with the aim of softening you, but simply to incite you even more to revenge. It seems to me that in justifying myself, I aggravate the tyrant's responsibility. The more innocent I appear, the more guilty he seems, the more unhappy I am, the more he deserves to be, and the more tears I shed, the more blood you will make him shed.<hr>
      There, Collatin, is the reason for my speech, my tears, and my survival. Make sure I have not lived this unworthy life in vain. Think of vengeance, Collatin, consider what you are and what your enemy is, or rather, the enemy of the people. You are a Roman, decent, noble, and the husband of Lucrèce. But he is of foreign lineage, son, and grandson of tyrants. Proud Tarquin only ascended the throne after eliminating a deserving prince whose daughter he had married. The scepter he holds cost the life of the one who carried it before him, and to ensure his domination, he has committed more crimes than he has subjects. That, Collatine, is who the father of my ravisher is. As for his mother, it does not lend him any more virtue. After all, I cannot believe that the son of the shameless Tullie, who dared to tread upon the body of her father to ascend the throne she coveted, doesn’t have as many enemies in Rome as there are honest men. The behavior of Sextus Tarquin has not erased his parents' crimes. His finest act was to betray an entire people who had trusted him. There, Collatin, is your enemy. Go therefore, attack him vigorously. As soon as you reveal the offense he has done to me, you will have all the Romans on your side. It will be both a common cause and personal. They will fear for their wives, their daughters, their sisters. They will all consider the traitor Tarquin their enemy. And if there are still some who support him, they must be cowards and weaklings who will not be hard to overcome. The Senate is but waiting for an excuse to assert itself. The people are weary of the chains they bear and will worship the hand that delivers them. And with<hr>
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