1:12:02
You killed her husband,
and for that vile fault
1:12:05
two of her brothers
were condemned to death,
1:12:08
my hand cut off and made a merry jest.
1:12:11
Both her sweet hands, her tongue,
1:12:14
and that more dear than hands
or tongue-- her spotless chastity--
1:12:19
inhuman traitors,
you constrained and forced.
1:12:25
What would you say
if I should let you speak?
1:12:29
Villains, for shame
1:12:30
you could not beg for grace.
1:12:35
Hark, wretches,
how I mean to martyr you.
1:12:39
This one hand yet is left
to cut your throats,
1:12:42
whilst that Lavinia
between her stumps doth hold
1:12:45
the basin that receives
your guilty blood.
1:12:51
You know your mother
means to feast with me
1:12:54
and calls herself Revenge
and thinks me mad.
1:13:00
Hark, villains!
1:13:01
I shall grind your bones to dust,
1:13:06
and with your blood and it
I'll make a paste.
1:13:09
And of the paste a coffin I will rear
1:13:12
and make two pastries
of your shameful heads,
1:13:15
and bid that strumpet
your unhallowed dam,
1:13:19
like to the earth,
swallow her own increase.
1:13:41
This is the feast
that I have bid her to
1:13:45
and this the banquet
she shall surfeit on.
1:13:53
And now prepare your throats.