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- # THE RAPE OF LVCRECE
Come Philomele that singst of rauiishment,
Make thy sad groue in my disheueld heare,
As the danke earth weepes at thy languishment:
So I at each sad straine, will straine a teare,
And with deepe grones the Diapason beare:
For burthen-wife ile hum on TARQVIN still,
VVhile thou on TEREVS descants better skill
And whiles against a thorne thou bearst thy part,
To keepe thy sharpe woes waking, wretched I
To imitate thee well, against my heart
VVill fixe a sharpe knife to affright mine eye,
VVho if it winke shall thereon fall and die.
Thefe meanes as frets vpon an instrument,
Shal tune our heart-strings to true languishment.
And for poore bird thou singst not in the day,
As shaming anie eye should thee behold:
Some darke deepe desert seated from the way,
That knowes not parching heat, nor freezing cold
VVill wee find out: and there we will vnhold
To creatures stern, sad tunes to change their kinds,
Since me proue beasts, let beasts bear getle minds.
II. 1128—1148
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