Coming upon his niece, Lavinia, “her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravished,” Marcus asks, “Who is this? My niece, that flies away so fast?” Marcus's initial inability to recognize Lavinia is caused not by her gruesome maiming but by her flight from his sight. His next lines confirm his inability to gaze on her properly, as he does not comment on her physical condition, but attempts to detain her again, asking: “Cousin, a word, where is your husband?” (2.4.12). At this point, presumably, Lavinia reveals herself to him, as Marcus's next lines indicate an immediate, instinctual negation of what he sees: “If I do dream, would all my wealth wake me! / If I do wake, some planet strike me down, / That I may slumber an eternal sleep” (2.4.13–14)! Employing two syntactically parallel hypothetical clauses, Marcus equalizes the experiences of dreaming and waking—and finds that neither condition provides ocular refuge. Momentarily without words to describe the aftermath of violence, Marcus finds that the experience of gazing necessitates negotiation between what is perceived and what is articulated. The weight of Lavinia's representation is at stake, as she is literally unable to speak for herself.