- description
- # I. i.
## Overview - What this is (type, form, dates, scope)
This is a scene extracted from a text file, labeled "I. i.". It is part of the chapter [Pericles Prince of Tyre.](arke:01KG6S4D9NHNM7KP90AY8TKVCC) and was extracted on January 30, 2026. The scene contains text from lines 15234 to 15259 of the source file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA), which is part of the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection.
## Context - Background and provenance from related entities
The scene follows the "Introduction" section of the chapter [Pericles Prince of Tyre.](arke:01KG6S4D9NHNM7KP90AY8TKVCC) and precedes the subsection "Enter Antiochus." The text was extracted by the "structure-extraction-lambda" tool. The file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA) is a text file assembled from multiple source files.
## Contents - What it contains, key subjects and details
The scene contains a section of dialogue and stage directions. The text includes lines such as "Where now you both a Father and a Sonne," and "Antioch farewell, for Wifedome fees those meat." The scene ends with an "Exit" stage direction.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T06:26:30.815Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- I. i.
- end_line
- 15259
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.806Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 15234
- text
- I. i. 91—126
<!-- [Page 627](arke:01KG6QMY6E0XJTSR4X7Y9P1A2F) -->
I. i. 127—159
# The Play of
Where now you both a Father and a Sonne,
By your untimely claspings with your Child,
(Which pleasures fittes a husband, not a father)
And shee an eater of her Mothers flesh,
By the defiling of her Parents bed,
And both like Serpents are; who though they feed
On sweetest Flowers, yet they Poyson breed.
Antioch farewell, for Wifedome fees those meat,
Blush not in actions blacker then the night,
Will shew no course to keepe them from the light:
One finne (I know) another doth provoke;
Murther’s as neere to Lust, as Flame to Smoake:
Poyson and Treason are the hands of Sinne,
I, and the targets to put off the shame,
Then least my life be crept, to keepe you cleare,
By flight, lie shun the danger which I feare.
Exit.
- title
- I. i.