Ti monologue — Titus Andronicus

Faint-harted boy, arise and looke vpon her, Speake Lauinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handlesse in thy Fathers sight? What foole hath added water to the Sea? Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy? My griefe was at the height before thou cam'st, And now like Nylus it disdaineth bounds: Giue me a sword, Ile chop off my hands too, For they haue fought for Rome, and all in vaine: And they haue nur'st this woe, In feeding life: In bootelesse prayer haue they bene held vp, And they haue seru'd me to effectlesse vse. Now all the seruice I require of them, Is that the one will helpe to cut the other: 'Tis well Lauinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome seruice, is but vaine