- cid
- bafkreib74tny73gju6w2ib6x6zjysflbehjdafpjkkea2iauzrde2rbnmm
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0213.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769752437914-0h1xqpudnkxg
- ocr_model
- mistral-ocr-latest
- page_number
- 213
- size
- 323957
- text
- # THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
V Vhy hunt I then for colour or excuses?
All Orators are dumbe when Beautie pleadeth,
Poore wretches haue remorse in poore abuses,
Loue thriues not in the hart that shadows dreadeth,
Affection is my Captaine and he leadeth.
And when his gaudie banner is displaid,
The coward fights, and will not be dismaide.
Then childish feare auaunt, debating die,
Respect and reason waite on wrinckled ages
My heart shall neuer counterm and mine cie,
Sad pause, and deepe regard beseemes the sage,
My part is youth and beates these from the stage.
Desire my Pilot is, Beautie my prise,
Then who feares sinking where such treasure lies?
As corne ore-growne by weedes: so heedfull feare
Is almost choakt by vnrefsted lust:
Away he steales with open listning eare,
Full of foule hope, and full of fond mistrust:
Both which as scruitors to the vniust,
So crofse him with their opposit persuasion,
That now he vows a league, and now lnuasion.
V Vith
II. 267—287
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:14:55.750Z
- text_extracted_by
- ocr-service
- text_has_content
- true
- text_images_count
- 0
- text_source
- ocr
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1750