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- # THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
To this well painted peece is LYCRECE come,
To find a face where all distresse is steld,
Manie shee fees, where cares haue carued some;
But none where all distresse and dolor dweld,
Till shee dispayring HECVBA beheld,
Staring on PRIAMS wounds with her old eyes,
V Vhich bleeding under PIRRHYS proud foot lies.
In her the Painter had anathomiz'd
Times ruine, beauties wracke, and grim cares raign,
Her cheeks with chops and wrincles were disguiz'd,
Of what shee was, no semblance did remainc:
Her blew bloud chang'd to blacke in euerie vaine,
V Vanting the spring, that thofe shrunke pipes had
Shew'd life imprison'd in a bodie dead. (fed,
On this sad shadow LYCRECE spends her eyes,
And shapes her sorrow to the Beldames woes,
V Vho nothing wants to answer her but cries,
And bitter words to ban her cruell Foes.
The Painter was no God to lend her thofe,
And therefore LYCRECE swears he did her wrong,
To giue her so much griefe, and not a tong.
Poore
ll. 1443—1463
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