Page 2151 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

That I might rail at him to ease my mind!
Sorrow concealèd, like an oven stopped,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomel, why, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sewed her mind;
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee. [40]
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sewed than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble like aspen leaves upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touched them for his life.
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropped his knife, and fell asleep, [50]
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet’s feet.
Come, let-us-go, and make thy father blind,
For such a sight will blind a father’s eye.
One hour’s storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father’s eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee:
O, could our mourning ease thy misery!

Exeunt.