Page 2169 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2169
MARCUS
For love of her that’s gone,
Perhaps she culled it from among the rest.
T IT US
Soft, so busily she turns the leaves!
Help her: what would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?
This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
And treats of Tereus’ treason and his rape;
And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy.
MARCUS
See, brother, see, note how she quotes the leaves. [50]
T IT US
Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,
Ravished and wronged, as Philomela was,
Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?
See, see! Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt. -
O, had we never, never hunted there! -
Patterned by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.
MARCUS
O, why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
T IT US
Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, [60]
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed.
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece’ bed?
MARCUS
Sit down, sweet niece; brother, sit down by me.
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia:
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me. [He writes his name with his staff,
