The most Lamentable Tragedie
24592322Here
stands the
spring whome you haue
staind with mud,
24602323This goodly
sommer with your winter mixt,
24612324You kild her hu
sband, and for that vild fault,
24622325Two of her brothers were condemnd to death,
24632326My hand cut o
ff and made a merrie ie
st,
24642327Both her
sweete hands, hir tongue, and that more deare
24652328Than hands or tongue, her
spotle
sse cha
stitie,
24662329Inhumane traitors you con
straind and for
st.
24672330What would you
say if I
should let you
speake?
24682331Villaines for
shame you could not beg for grace.
24692332Harke wretches how I meane to marter you,
24702333This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
24712334Whiles that L
auinia tweene her
stumps doth hold,
24722335The ba
son that receaues your guiltie blood.
24732336You know your Mother meanes to fea
st with me,
24742337And calles her
selfe Reuenge and thinks me mad.
24752338Harke villaines I will grinde your bones to du
st,
24762339And with your blood and it Ile make a pa
ste,
24772340And of the pa
ste a co
ffen I will reare,
24782341And make two pa
sties of your
shamefull heades,
24792342And bid that
strumpet your vnhallowed Dam,
24802343Like to the earth
swallow her owne increa
se.
24812344This is the fea
st that I haue bid her too,
24822345And this the banket
she
shall
surfet on,
24832346For wor
se than
Philomell you v
sde my daughter,
24842347And wor
se than
Progne I will be reuengd.
24852348And now prepare your throats, L
auinia come,
24862349Receaue the blood, and when that they are dead,
24872350Let me goe grinde their bones to powder
small,
24882351And with this hatefull liquour temper it,
24892352And in that pa
ste let their vile heades be bakt,
24902353Come, come, be euerie one o
fficius,
24912354To make this banket which I wi
sh may proue
24922355More
sterne and bloodie than the Centaurs fea
st,
24942357So now bring them in for Ile play the Cooke,
And