- cid
- bafkreidzxre67b3imrgljmxfnycktysc55uyxboksbgxyzjjldxxet5pzu
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0232.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769752437922-4pd90mtzcs9
- ocr_model
- mistral-ocr-latest
- page_number
- 232
- size
- 330325
- text
- # THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
So let thy thoughts low vassals to thy state,
No more quoth he, by Heauen I will not heare thee.
Yeeld to my loue, if not inforced hate,
In steed of loues coy tutch shall rudelie teare thee.
That done, despitefullie I meane to beare thee
Vnto the base bed of same rascall groome,
To be thy partner in this shamefull doome.
This said, he sets his foote vppon the light,
For light and lust are deadlie enemies,
Shame folded vp in blind concealing night,
VVhen most vnsene, then most doth tyrannize.
The wolfe hath ceazd his pray, the poor lamb cries,
Till with her own white fleece her voice controld,
Intombes her outcrie in her lips sweet fold.
For with the nightlie linten that shee weares,
He pens her piteous clamors in her head,
Cooling his hot face in the chastest teares,
That euer modest eyes with sorrow shed.
O that prone lust should staing so pure a bed,
The spots whereof could weeping purifie,
Her tears should drop on them perpetuallie.
F
II. 666–686
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:15:10.457Z
- text_extracted_by
- ocr-service
- text_has_content
- true
- text_images_count
- 0
- text_source
- ocr
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1750