But with my back toward thee; ‘tis the last duty

This trunk can do the gods.

Mar. Strike, strike, Valerius,

Or Martius’ heart will leap out at his mouth.

This is a man, a woman. Kiss thy lord,

And live with all the freedom you were wont.

O love! thou doubly hast afflicted me

With virtue and with beauty. Treacherous heart,

My hand shall cast thee quick into my urn,

Ere thou transgress this knot of piety.

Val. What ails my brother?