Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Marc. Now let hot ætna coole in Cicilie,
Marc. And be my heart an euer‑burning hell:
Marc. These miseries are more then may be borne.
Marc. To weepe with them that weepe, doth ease some deale,
Marc. But sorrow flouted at, is double death.
Luci. Luci.
Luci. Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound,
Luci. And yet detested life not shrinke thereat:
Luci. That euer death should let life beare his name,
Luci. Where life hath no more interest but to breath.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Alas poore hart that kisse is comfortlesse,
Mar. As frozen water to a starued snake.
Titus. Titus.
Titus. When will this fearefull slumber haue an end?
Mar. Now farwell flatterie, die Andronicus,
Mar. Thou dost not slumber, see thy two sons heads,
Mar. Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here:
Mar. Thy other banisht sonnes with this deere sight