Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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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?
Tit. Now I behold thy liuely body so?
Tit. Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy teares,
Tit. Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
Tit. Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
Tit. Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
Tit. Looke Marcus, ah sonne Lucius looke on her:
Tit. When I did name her brothers, then fresh teares
Tit. Stood on her cheekes, as doth the hony dew,
Tit. Vpon a gathred Lillie almost withered.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Perchance she weepes because they kil'd her
Mar. husband,