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That he thereby may have a likely guess,
How these were they, that made away his brother.
Exit Aaron.
Marc. Why dost not comfort me and help me

Out From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole 2uint. I am surprized with an uncouth fear: A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; Mine herat suspects more than mine eye can see. Marc. To prove thou hasta true-diviningheari, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 2uint. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart Will not permit my eyes once to behold The thing, whereaf it trembles by surmise; O, tell me how it is; for ne'er 'till now Was I a child, to fear I know not what. Marc. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. 2uint. If it be dark,how dost thow know ’tishe? Marc. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring that lightens' all the hole, #. like a taper in some monument, Doth'shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shews the ragged entrails of this pit: So pale did shine #. moon on Pyramus, When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand,If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. out: 2uint. Reach methy hand, that I may help thee Or, W.; strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. . . I have no *... pluck thee to the brink, Marc. And I no strength to climb without thy help. [again, Quint. 'I hy, hand, once more; I will not lost *Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. - [Falls in. Enter the Emperor, and Aaron. Sat. Along with me :—I’ll see what hole is

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Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. . . [wound; Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy: And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny, She giveth Saturninus a letterSaturninus reads the letter. “An if we miss to meet him handsomely,– “Sweet huntsman—Bassianus’tis, we mean,— “Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; “Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy “ reward “Among the nettles at the elder-tree, “Which over-shades themouthof that same pit, “Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. “Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.” O Tamora! was ever heard the like * This is the pit, and this the elder-tree: Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out, That should have murder’d Bassianus here. Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. [Shewing it. Sat. Two § thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here berest my brother of his life: [To Titus. Sirs, drag them from the o: unto the prison; . There let them bide, until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. Tam, What, are they in this pit? O wond’rous thing ! How easily order is discovered! Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of mine accursed sons,— Accursed, if the fault be prov’d in them— Sat. If it be prov’d You see, it is apparent.— Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up. Tit. I did, my lord; yet let me be their bail : For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, They shall be ready at your highness' will, To answer their suspición with their lives. Sat. Thou shalt not bail them : see, thou follow me. [ers. Some bring the murder'd body,some the murderLet them not speak a word, §: guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed. Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough.

Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. [Ereunt severally. S C E N E v.

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Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy mean:

ling SO : And, if thy o will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can scowl. [hands. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy Dem. She has no tongue tp call, nor hands to

wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. [self. Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myIDem. If thou io hands to help thee knit the cord. [Ereunt Demetrius and Chiron. Enter Marcus to Lavinia. Mar. Who's this, -my niece, that flies away so fast? - Cousin, a word; Where is your husband? f I do dream,”vould all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep!-Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands ave 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 And might not gain so great a happiness, [in; As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?— Alas, a crimson river of warm blóod, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Dóth rise and fall i. thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath deflower'd thee;

Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame?
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
As from a conduit with their issuing spouts,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee; shall I say, 'tis so
Q, 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:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That better could have sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the i. strings delight to kiss them;
He would not then have touch'd them for his life.
Qr, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made;
He would have drop d his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus at the ohracian poet's feet.
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:
[Ereunt.

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And,lest thoushould'st detecthim,cutthy tongue.

A C T III.

S C E N E I. A Street in Rome.

Enter the Judges and Senators, with Marcus and
2uintus bound, passing on the stage to the place
of erecution, and Titus going before, pleading.
Tit. HEAR me, grave fathers! noble tribunes,
- stay!
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
And for these bitter tears, which you now see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my ào.
B. pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought
For two-and-twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty ol.
Andronicuslicthdown,and the Judgespassbyhim.
'or these, these tribunes, in the dust. I write
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears.
Lot my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;

O earth : I will befriend thee more with rain, [Eaeunt. That shall distil from these two ancient urns, 45 Than youthful April shall with all his showers: |In summer's drought, I’ll drop upon thee still; |In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow, o keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drinkiny dear sons' blood. 50 Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn. Q reverend tribunes! gentle aged men onlind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. Luc. O, noble father, you lancnt in vain; The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrows to a stone. Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you

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speak. Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man; if they did hear, hey would not mark me; or, if they did mark,

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bootless unto them, they would not pity ine. - erefore Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, . Yet in some sort they’re better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet, Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones: A stone is silent, and offendeth not; And tribuneswith theirtonguesdoom mento death. Butwhereforestand'st thouwith thyweapon drawn; Luc. To rescue my two brothers trom their death: For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment. Tit. Q happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, That Rome is but a wilderness of tygers? Tygers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, But me and mine: How happy art thou then, - i." these devourers to be banished ut who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter Marcus and Lavinia. Marc. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break; I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. Marc. This was thy daughter. Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. Luc. Ah me! this object kills me ! Tit.Faint-hearted boy,arise,and look upon her:Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand lath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea? Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy My grief was at the height, before thou cam'st, And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.Give me a sword, I’ll chop off my hands too; For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have serv'd me to effectless use: Now, all the service I require of them Is, that the one will help to cut the other.— 'T is well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. Lue. Speak, gentlesister,whohathmartyr'd thee; Marc. (), that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; Where like a sweet melodious bird it sang Sweet vary'd notes, enchanting every ear! Luc. O, saythou for her,who hath done this deed: Marc. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer, That hath receiy'd some unrecuring wound.

Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her,

Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead:
For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;

Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,

Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
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Here stands my other son, a banish'd man:
And here my brother, weeping at my woes:
But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
ls dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.—
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me? What shall I do,
Now I behold thy lovely body so?
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd taee:
Thy husband, he is dead; and, for his death.
!hy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:–
Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears

‘Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew

Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
Marc. Perchance, she weeps because they kill’d
her husband:
Perchance, because she knows them innocent.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.—
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.—
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
Or make some signs how I may do thee ease.
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain i
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd; like meadows yet not dry
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
"Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Orshall we cut away our hands, like thine 2:
Orshall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days *
What shall we do? Let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some device of further misery,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at
your grief, -
See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
Marc. Patience, dear niece;—good Titus, dry
thine eyes.
Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot,
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, [own.
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine
Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her
signs:
Had she a tour to speak, now she would say
That to her brother j. I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
O, what a sympathy of woe is this!
As far from help as limbo is from bliss.
Enter Aaron.
Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
Sends thee this word, That if thou love thy sons,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,

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And send it to the king: he for the same,

Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;

And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron!

Did ever raven sing so like a lark, That

––– -

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor my hand;
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Luc. Stay, father; for that noble Hoà of thine,
That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.
Marc. Which of your hands hath not defended
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, [Rome,
Writing destruction on the enemies' castle'?
O, none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
To ransom my two nephews from their death;
Then haye I kept it to a worthy end. . [along,
Aar. Nay, come, agree, whose hand shall go
For fear they die beior their pardon come.
Marc. My hand shall go.
Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. [these
Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
Marc. And, for our father's sake, and mother's
Now let meshew a brother's love to thee. [care,
Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.
Marc. But I will use the axe.
- [Ereunt Lucius and Marcus.
Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I’ll deceive them both;
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
Aar. If that be call’d deceit, I will be honest,
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:—
But I’ll deceive you in another sort,
And that you’ll say ere half an hour pass. [Aside.
[He cuts off Titus's hand.
Enter Lucius and Marcus again.
Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is
dispatch'd.—
sood Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, Í account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
Anu yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by-and-by to have thy sons with thee:—
Their heads, I mean.—O, how this villainy [Aside.
Doth fat me with the very thought of it?
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have hissoul black like his face. [Erit.
Tit. O hear!—I lift this one hand up to heaven,
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth;
If any power pities wretched tears,
To that I call.—What, wilt thou kneel with me?
- - - [To Lavinia.

Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our

'prayers; Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

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And do not break into these deep extremes.

Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom: Then be my passions bottomless with them. Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatoning the welkin with his big-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow: She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tcars Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. . Then give me leave; for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues Enterallessenger,bringing in twoheadsandaland. Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repay’d For that good hand, thou sent'st the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; And here’s thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd: That woe is me to think upon thy woes More than remembrance of my father's death. - - Exit Marc. Now let hot Etna cool in so t And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne! To weep with them that weep, doth easesome deal; But sorrow flouted at is double death. [wound, Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe [Lavinia kisses him. Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. [end ? Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an Marc. Now, farewell, flattery: Die, Andronicus;. Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish’d son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah! now no more will I controul thy griefs: Rent off thy silver hair, thy other han Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of your most wretched eyes! Now is a time to storm, why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha! [hour. Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this Tit. Why I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watry eyes, And make them blind with tributary tears;

60|Then which way shall I find revenge's cave:

For these two heads do seem to speak to me;

Marc. O! brother, speak with possibilities,

Castle in this place signifies a close helmet,

And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, "Till all these mischiefs be return’d again,

Even

Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.—
You heavy people, circle me about;
That I may turn me to each one of you,
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made.—Come, brother, take a head;
And in this hand the other will I bear:
Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things;
Bearthoumyhand,sweetwonch, betweenthyteeth.
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there;
And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
[Ereunt.
Manet Lucius.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;

The woful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome
Farewell, proud Rome!’till Lucius comes again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
(), 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been :
But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.
If Lucius hve, he will requite your wrongs;
And make proud Saturninus and his emperess
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

- [Erit Lucius.

S C E N E II. An Apartment in Titus's house. A banquet. Enter Titus, Marcus, Larinia, a !young Lucius, a boy. Tit. So, so; now sit; and look, you eat no more Than will preserve just so much strength in us, As will revenge these bitter woes of ours, Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; And when my heart, all mad with misery, Beats in this ń. prison of my flesh, Then thus I thump it down.— Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! [To Lavonia. Whenthypoorheartbeatswithoutrageousbeating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still, Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some little knife between thy teeth, And just against thy heart make thou a hole; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, May run into that sink, and, soaking in, Drówn the lamenting tool in sea-salt tears. Marc. Foye, brother,sye! teach her not thustolay Such violent hands upon her tender life. Tit. How now has sorrow made thee doat already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life?

To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? 9, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; Lest we remember still, that we have none.— Eye, fye, how frantickly I square my talk: As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands !— Qome, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:— Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;– 10|I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; She says, . drinks no other drink but tears, Brew’d with hersorrows, mesh’d upon hercheeks:Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; In thy dumb action will I be as perfect, 15||As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thoushalt not sigh, nor hold thystumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, And, by still practice", learn to know the meaning. 20 Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments; -Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov’d, Doth weep to see his grandsire's É. 25. Tit. Peace, tender ...; thou art made of And tears will quickly melt thy lite away. [tears, [Marcus strikes the dish with a knife, What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. 30. Tit.Out on thee, murderer; thoukill'st my heart; Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: A deed of death, done on the innocent, Becomes not Titus' brother; Get thee gone; I see, thou art not for my company. 35 Marc. Alas, my lord, T have but kil"d a fly. Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buz lamenting doings in the air? Poor harmless fly! 40|That with his pretty buzzing melody, him. Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill’d Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the emperess' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. 45| Tit. O, O, O, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast dome a .. deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, 50 Come hither purposely to poison me. There's for thyself, and that’s for Tamora. Ah, sirrah!—yet I thinkwe are not brought so low, But that, between us, we can kill a fly, That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 55. Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, * He takes false shadows for true substances. Tit. Come, take away.—Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee 60Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.— Çome, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle:

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