Perhaps ye may have that the which will not blince.
Appius. What is the man that liveth now so near to door of death,
As I for lust of lady fair, whose lack will stop my breath?
But long I shall not want her sight, I stay her coming here.
O lucky light! lo, present here her father doth appear.
O, how I joy! yet brag thou not; dame beauty bides behind.
Virginius, where is the maid? how haps thou break my mind?
Here entereth Virginius [bearing Virginia’s head.]
Ah wicked judge, the virgin chaste
Hath sent her beauteous face,