Virginia. The gods forgive thee, father dear! farewell, thy blow do bend.
Yet stay a while, O father dear, for flesh to death is frail:
Let first my wimple bind my eyes, and then thy blow assail.
Now, father, work thy will on me, that life I may enjoy.
[Here tie a handkercher about her eyes, and then strike off her head.
Now stretch thy hand, Virginius, that loth would flesh destroy.
O cruel hands, O[214] bloody knife, O man, what hast thou done?
Thy daughter dear and only heir her vital end hath won.
Come, fatal blade, make like despatch: come, Atropos: come, aid![215]
Strike home, thou careless arm, with speed; of death be not afraid.