Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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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,
Tit. And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd,
Tit. And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come.
Tit. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead,
Tit. Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small,
Tit. And with this hatefull Liquor temper it,
Tit. And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte,
Tit. Come, come, be euery one officious,
Tit. To make this Banket, which I wish might proue,