Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Marc. That hath receiude some vnrecuring wound.
Tit. Tit.
Tit. It was my Deare,
Tit. And he that wounded her,
Tit. Hath hurt me more, then had he kild me dead:
Tit. For now I stand as one vpon a Rocke,
Tit. Inuiron'd with a wildernesse of Sea.
Tit. Who markes the waxing tide,
Tit. Grow waue by waue,
Tit. Expecting
Tit. The Lamentable Tragedie of Titus Andronicus.
Tit. Expecting euer when some enuious surge,
Tit. Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
Tit. This way to death my wretched sonnes are gone:
Tit. Heere stands my other sonne, a banisht man,
Tit. And heere my brother weeping at my woes.
Tit. But that which giues my soule the greatest spurne,
Tit. Is deere Lauinia, deerer then my soule.
Tit. Had I but seene thy picture in this plight,
Tit. It would haue madded me. What shall I doe?