- description
- # II. 1065—1085
## Overview
This section, titled "II. 1065—1085," is a segment of a larger work, likely a poem or play, extracted from a file named `pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt`. It contains lines of text that appear to be verse, with line numbers indicating its place within a larger structure. The section spans from line 5774 to 5804 of the source file.
## Context
This section is part of the chapter titled "[THE RAPE OF LVCRECE.](arke:01KG6S4F3XW2RKF6WDXEATZYAA)". It is contained within the larger collection "[PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y)". The section follows "[II. 1044—1064](arke:01KG6S5N63YESZ3BXRBB2N2SP7)" and precedes "[II. 1086—1106](arke:01KG6S5NSFD69BNAEPRH9R9ZZG)". The text was extracted from the file `pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt` on January 30, 2026.
## Contents
The content of this section consists of poetic verses. The text begins with a scene description, "Reuealing day through euery crannie spies," and continues with a character's lament, possibly Lucrece, addressing the sun. The verses explore themes of grief, shame, and the conflict between day and night, and the internal struggle of the character. The lines are formatted as poetry, with rhyming couplets and quatrains.
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- 2026-01-30T06:26:05.663Z
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- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- II. 1065—1085
- end_line
- 5804
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.804Z
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- 5774
- text
- II. 1065—1085
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# THE RAPE OF LVCRECE
Reuealing day through euery crannie spies,
And seems to point her out where she sits weeping,
To whom shee sobbing speaks, o eye of eyes, (ping,
VVhy pry'st thou through my window? leaue thy pee-
Mock with thy tickling beams, eies that are sleeping;
Brand not my forehead with thy percing light,
For day hath nought to do what's done by night.
Thus caulfs shee with euerie thing shee sees,
True griefe is fond and teftie as a childe,
VVho wayward once, his mood with naught agrees,
Old woes, not infant forrowes beare them milde,
Continuance tames the one, the other wilde,
Like an vnpractiz'd swimmer plunging still,
VVith roo much labour drowns for want of skill.
So shee deepe drenched in a Sea of care,
Holds disputation with ech thing shee vewes,
And to her felfe all sorrow doth compare,
No obiect but her passions strength renewes :
And as one shiftes another straight infewes,
Sometime her griefe is dumbe and hath no words,
Sometime tis mad and too much talke affords.
H 3
- title
- II. 1065—1085