- description
- # II. 499—522
## Overview
This is a section from a digitized version of the poem *Venus and Adonis*. It spans lines 499 to 522 of the poem. The section was extracted on January 30, 2026, by a structure extraction process.
## Context
This section is part of the chapter "[VENVS AND ADONIS.](arke:01KG6S4EKY2NN9C1PGK59TDRWY)" within a larger poetry collection. The source text file "[pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA)" was included in the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection. This section is preceded by section "[II. 475—498](arke:01KG6S5JA27FM08JCNQTN6DA2Y)" and followed by section "[II. 523—546](arke:01KG6S5JX5344T3X7HFC4XSPET)".
## Contents
This section of *Venus and Adonis* contains a stanza where Venus pleads with Adonis to show her love and not to fear her. She argues that he is too young to understand himself and should not reject her advances. She notes that the day is ending and urges him to stay with her. The section continues with Venus offering Adonis a kiss, which leads to a passionate embrace.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T06:25:41.201Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- II. 499—522
- end_line
- 2180
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.803Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2148
- text
- II. 499—522
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# VENVS AND ADONIS.
Faire Queene (quoth he) if anie loue you owe me,
Measure my strangeness with my vnripe yeares,
Before I know my selfe, seeke not to know me,
No fisher but the vngrowne frie forbeares,
The mellow plum doth fall, the greene sticks fast,
Or being early pluckt, is fower to taft.
Looke the worlds comforter with wearie gate,
His dayes hot taske hath ended in the west,
The owle (nights herald) shreeks, tis verie late,
The sheepe are gone to fold, birds to their nest,
And cole-black clouds, that shadow heauens light,
Do summon vs to part, and bid good night.
Now let me say goodnight, and so say you,
If you will say so, you shall haue a kis;
Goodnight (quoth she) and ere he sayes adue,
The honie fee of parting tendred in.
Her armes do lend his necke a sweet imbrace,
Incorporate then they seeme, face growes to face.
Till breathless he diftoynd, and backward drew,
The heavenly moisture that sweet corall mouth,
V Vhose precious taft, her thirstie-lips well knew,
VVhereon they surfer, yet complaine on drouth,
He with her plentie press, she faint with dearth,
Their lips together glewed, fall to the earth.
- title
- II. 499—522