For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
Here ave the heads of thy two noble sons, 236
And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back:
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd;
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,
More than remembrance of my father's death. 240
Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
These miseries are more than may be borne.
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, 244
But sorrow flouted at is double death.
Luc. Ah! that this sight should make so deep a wound,
And yet detested life not shrink thereat!
That ever death should let life bear his name, 248
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!
Mar. Alas! poor heart; that kiss is comfortless
As frozen water to a starved snake.
Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? 252
Mar. Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads,
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here;
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 256
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,
Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
Ah! now no more will I control my griefs.
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand 260
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
The closing up of our most wretched eyes!
239 That: so that
244 some deal: somewhat; cf. n.
251 starved: benumbed with cold
256 dear sight: a sight that touches him very closely
260 Rent: rend
