Virginius. O man, O mould, O muck, O clay! O hell, O hellish hound,
O false Judge Appius, rabbling[208] wretch, is this thy treason found?
Woe worth the man that gave the seed, whereby ye first did spring!
Woe worth the womb that bare the babe to mean this bloody thing!
Woe worth the paps that gave thee suck, woe worth the fosters eke:
Woe worth all such as ever did thy health or liking seek!
O, that these gravèd hairs[209] of mine were covered in the clay!
Here entereth Virginia.
Let patience, dear father mine, your rigour something stay:
Why do you wail in such a sort? why do you weep and moan?