- cid
- bafkreihdohdojmlmtw6d4dypnor7vuc7z5roi2uoilfbwvx23uq5goajnm
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0223.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769752437916-exy8xmpy55f
- ocr_model
- mistral-ocr-latest
- page_number
- 223
- size
- 322224
- text
- # THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.
Thus he replies, the colour in thy face,
That euen for anger makes the Lilly pale,
And the red rose blush at her owne disgrace,
Shall plead for me and tell my louing tale.
Vnder that colour am I come to scale
Thy neuer conquered Fort, the fault is thine,
For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine.
Thus I forestall thee, if thou meane to chide,
Thy beauty hath ensnard thee to this night,
VVhere thou with patience must my will abide,
My will that markes thee for my earths delight,
VVhich I to conquer fought with all my might.
But as reproose and reason beat it dead,
By thy bright beautie was it newlie bred.
I see what crosses my attempt will bring,
I know what thornes the growing rose depends,
I think the honie garded with a sting,
All this before-hand counsell comprehends.
But V Vill is dease, and hears no heedsfull friends,
Onely he hath an eye to gaze on Beautie,
And dotes on what he looks, gainst law or ducty.
II. 477–497
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:15:02.625Z
- text_extracted_by
- ocr-service
- text_has_content
- true
- text_images_count
- 0
- text_source
- ocr
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1750