- description
- # ## 84
## Overview
This is a section, identified as "## 84", extracted from the text file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA). It is part of the chapter "# SHAKES-PRARES" [01KG6S4CPZP73GPBKD2240HQV8] and belongs to the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection. The section consists of lines 11748-11764 of the source file.
## Context
The section is located within the chapter titled "# SHAKES-PRARES" [01KG6S4CPZP73GPBKD2240HQV8], which is part of a larger poetry collection. The source file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA) was assembled from numerous smaller files and underwent structure extraction on January 30, 2026. This section is preceded by section "## 83" [01KG6S5JXSZFQNDKGQ1RMBW217] and followed by section "## 85" [01KG6S5KHM026J9TAED8QN153Y]. The [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection is used for network testing and includes permissions for various users to view, create, and update files and entities.
## Contents
This section contains a poem, labeled as "84," which discusses the subject's beauty and the poet's decision not to "paint" or embellish it with excessive praise. The poem suggests that the subject's natural beauty exceeds any poetic description. It comprises fourteen lines in a Shakespearean sonnet form.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T06:26:24.369Z
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- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- ## 84
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- 11764
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- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.806Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 11748
- text
- ## 84
I Neuer faw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your faire no painting fet,
I found (or thought I found) you did exceed,
The barren tender of a Poets debt:
And therefore haue I flept in your report,
That you your felfe being extant well might fhow,
How farre a moderne quill doth come to fhort,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow,
This fllence for my finne you did impute,
Which fhall be moft my glory being dombe,
For I impaire not beautie being mute,
When others would giue life, and bring a tombe,
There liues more life in one of your faire eyes,
Then both your Poets can in praiffe deuife.
- title
- ## 84