There at your back,—her locks dishevelled, and
Her vestment torn,—her cheeks all faded with
Her pouring tears.
Villain! is this a sight to show a father?
And have I not a weapon to requite thee?"
In his distraught fury, feeling over his body for some weapon he discovers his own hands. A wild and eager delight shudders through him as, holding these naked instruments before him, he springs on the terrified Appius and strangles him to death. Lucius, Icilius, and Numitorius enter, bearing the urn of Virginia. The wronged father and sufferer looks up, and sighs, with a bewildered gaze,—
"What a load my heart has heaved off! Where is he?
I thought I had done it."
They call him by name. He makes no response. Icilius places the urn in his right hand, with the single word, "Virginia." He looks at Icilius and the urn, at Numitorius and Lucius, seems struck by their mourning garb, looks again at the urn, breaks into a passion of tears, and falls on the neck of Icilius, exclaiming, "Virginia!"
METAMORA.