ACT II
2.4.2
The good Micheal was told by a servant who stayed near the forest that a noble lady was found. He rushed over
there in hope of seeing if it was his niece. The sight that greeted him was emotional. Lavinia was covered with the
uncured animal hide. She was lying on the ground, with dried blood around her. He ran towards her and saw with
clearer view of the pain the child had undergone. He had seen death and torture, but none as devious as these.
“Who is this?” Micheal pulled the skin to reveal the face. “My niece? The one that flew away so fast!”
Micheal grabbed hold of Lavinia’ face. He saw the blood and then the stumps. He looked for her husband; has he
done such act; no, he could not. He had lain dead in some pits; killed probably by the same culprits.
“Where is your husband?” Micheal asked her. “If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake,
some planet strike me down, that I may slumber in eternal sleep!”
Micheal fell to his emotions. He had seen many wounds in battle, but still the sight when it was inflicted on the
one’s you love, then all emotions would surfaced.
“ Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare of her two branches,
those sweet ornaments, whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, and might not gain so great a
happiness as have thy love?”
“Why dost not speak to me?” Micheal shook his niece body. “Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, like to a
bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind. Doth rise and fall between thy rose lips, coming and going with thy honey
breath.”
“But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee, and, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.” Micheal sighed.
“Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, as from a conduit with
three issuing spouts, yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face. Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.”
Lavinia opened her mouth as if to speak, but no voice was heard.
“Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so?” Micheal looked to her. “O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders
where it is fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind.”
Micheal looked to the stumps.
“But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; a craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, and he hath cut those pretty
fingers off that could have better sew'd than Philomel. O, had the monster seen those lily hands tremble, like aspen-
leaves, upon a lute, and make the silken strings delight to kiss them; he would not then have touch'd them for his
life! Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony which that sweet tongue hath made. He would have dropp'd his knife,
and fell asleep as Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.” Micheal spoke out without pausing. “Come, let us go, and
make thy father blind; for such a sight will blind a father's eye: one hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee”
“O, could our mourning ease thy misery!” Micheal asked himself.
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