- description
- # # COMPLAINT.
## Overview
This is a section titled "# COMPLAINT." extracted from a text file, representing a portion of the poem "A Lover's Complaint." It is part of a larger collection of documents undergoing a PDF workflow process. The section contains 41 lines of verse.
## Context
This section is part of the chapter "[A Louers complaint.](arke:01KG6S4D9EHXPGYH8SACVSG0T2)" within a larger work. The text file "[pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA)" from which it was extracted is part of the "[PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y)" collection, which is used for network testing. This section comes after the section titled "[# A Lovers](arke:01KG6S5NCETMYYGQE7MGDDQSXA)" and precedes the section titled "[# A LOVERS](arke:01KG6S5NCNCB524516XZM5RPNZ)".
## Contents
The section consists of a series of verses addressing a "you" figure, offering up "trophies of affections hot." The speaker describes a "deuce" (gift) received from a "Nun, / Or Sister sanctified," who avoided courtly life for "eternal love." The verses explore themes of love, sacrifice, and the renunciation of worldly pursuits. The section includes a reference to "[Page 561](arke:01KG6QKD286S22140JHK0XN8YN)" of the source document.
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- 2026-01-30T06:26:23.879Z
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- description_title
- # COMPLAINT.
- end_line
- 13491
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- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.806Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 13451
- text
- # COMPLAINT.
With obiects manyfold; each feuerall stone,
With wit well blazond śmil’d or made some more.
Lo all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensfu’d and sabdew’d desires the tender,
Nature hath charged me that I hoord them not,
But yeeld them up where I my selfe must render:
That is to you my origin and endder:
For these of force must your oblations be,
Since I their Aulter, you enpatrone me.
Oh then advance (of yours,) that phrases hand,
Whose white weighes down the airy scale of praise,
Take all these families to your own command,
Hollowed with sighes that burning lunges did raise:
What me your minister for you obaies
Workes under you, and to your audit comes
Their distract parcells, in combined summes.
Lo this deuce was sent me from a Nun,
Or Sister sanctified of holiest note,
Which late her noble fuit in court did shun,
Whose rarest haulings made the bloods done,
For she was sought by spirits of ricchest cote,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.
But oh my sweet what labour is to leave,
The thing we have not, mastring what not striues,
Playing the Place which did no forme receive,
Playing patients sports in unconstrained giues,
She that her fame so to her selfe contraues,
The scarres of battaille scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.
Oh pardon me in that my boast is true,
L. The
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- title
- # COMPLAINT.