That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.
Tit. It was my dear; and he that wounded her 92
Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead:
For now I stand as one upon a rock
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 96
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man, 100
And here my brother, weeping at my woes:
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight 104
It would have madded me: what shall I do
Now I behold thy lively body so?
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears,
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: 108
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
Look, Marcus! ah! son Lucius, look on her:
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 112
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
Mar. Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband;
Perchance because she knows them innocent. 116
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. 120
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
91 unrecuring: incurable
97 envious: malignant
98 his: its
102 spurn: pang
