Page:Titus Andronicus (1926) Yale.djvu/65

Titus Andronicus, III. ii

And just against thy heart make thou a hole;

That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall

May run into that sink, and, soaking in,

Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.

Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay

Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?

Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.

What violent hands can she lay on her life?

Ah! wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands?

To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er,

How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?

O handle not the theme, to talk of hands,

Lest we remember still that we have none!

Fie, fie! how franticly I square my talk,

As if we should forget we had no hands,

If Marcus did not name the word of hands.

Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:

Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says;

I can interpret all her martyr'd signs:

She says she drinks no other drink but tears,

Brew'd with her sorrow, mash'd upon her cheeks.

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;

In thy dumb action will I be as perfect

As begging hermits in their holy prayers:

Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,

But I of these will wrest an alphabet,

And by still practice learn to know thy meaning.

Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:

 31 square: shape, fashion

36 martyr'd signs: signs of her martyrdom

38 Brew'd mash'd; cf. n.

40 be as perfect: show as perfect an understanding

44 of these: from these

45 still: constant

