Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Tit. Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere
Tit. Then Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity,
Tit. Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st.
Tit. What would you say, if I should let you speake?
Tit. Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace.
Tit. Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you,
Tit. This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats,
Tit. Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold:
Tit. The Bason that receiues your guilty blood.
Tit. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me,
Tit. And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad.
Tit. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust,
Tit. And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste,
Tit. And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare,
Tit. And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads,
Tit. And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam,
Tit. Like to the earth swallow her increase.
Tit. This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to,
Tit. And this the Banquet she shall surfet on,
Tit. For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter,