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set out.

To that I call. – What, wilt thou kneel with me? And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.

[To Lavinia. The vow is made! - Come, brother, take a head!
Dothen, dear heart! for heaven shall hear our prayers; And in this hand the other will I bear!
Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things ;
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teetli !
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight!
Mar. 0 brother, speak with possibilities,

Thou art an exile, and thon must not stay:
And do not break into these deep extremes. Hie to the Goths, and raise au army there:
Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Then be my passions bottomless with them. Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do!
Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament.

[Exeunt Titus, Marcus and Lavinia.
Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;
Then into limits could I bind my woes :

The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? Farewell! proud Rome! till Lucius come again,
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, He leaves his pledges dearer, than his life.
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face? Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister!
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?

0, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast beep!
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,
She is the weeping welkin ; I the earth :

But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears And make proud Saturninus and his empress
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown’d:

Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.

To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine!

Then give me leave; for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. SCENEJI. A room in Titus's house. A banquet
Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand.
Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid Enter Titus, Mancus, Lavinia, and young Lucius,
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.

a boy.
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;

Tit. So, so! now sit! and look, you eat no more
And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; Than will preserve just so much strength in us
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock’d: As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,

Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot;
More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit. Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
Mar. Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily,

And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!

With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
These miseries are more than may be borne! Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
To weep with them that weep doih ease some deal, And when my heart, all mad with misery,
But sorrow flouted at is double death!

Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a Then thus I thump it down.

Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

[To Lavinia. That ever death should let life bear his name, When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.

(Lavinia kisses him. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
As frozen water to a starved snake.

And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall,
Mar. Now farewell flattery! Die, Andronicus ; May run into that sink, and, soaking in,
Thou dost not slumber! see, thy two son's heads!, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here! Mar. Fye, brother, fye! teach her not thus to lay
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Such violent hands upon her tender life!
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?
Even like a stony image, cold and numb!

Why, Marcus, no man shonld be mad but I.
Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs! What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand

Ah, wherefore dost thou urge thename of hands; –
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice o'er,
The closing up of our most wretched eyes ! Flow Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ?
Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands;
Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

Lest we remember still, that we have none. -
Mar. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this hour. Fye, fye, how franticly I square my

Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: As if we should forget we had no hands,
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

TC Marcus did not name the word of hands!
And would usurp apon my wat’ry eyes,

Come, let's fall to! and, gentle girl, eat this !
And make them blind with tributary tears ; Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;
Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;
For these two heads do seem to speak to me; She says, she drinks no other driok but tears,
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss,

Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks ;-
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again,

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
Even in their throats that have committed them. In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
Come, let me see what task I have to do.

As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
You heavy people, circle me about;

Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
That I may turn me to each one of you,

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sigo,

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sweet girl,

But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,

Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. Loves me as dear, as e'er my mother did,

Boy.Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Which made me down to throw my books, and fly,

Mar. as the tender boy, in passion mov'd, Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet agut!
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

Tit. Peace, tender sapling! thou art made of tears, I will most willingly attend yoar ladyship.
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.

Mar. Lucius, I will.
(Marcus strikes the dish with a knife.

(Lavinia turns over the books which LuWhat dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?

cius has let fall.
Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. Tit. How now, Lavinia ?--Marcus, what means this?
Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thon kill'st my heart! Some book there is that she desires to see:-
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: Which is it, girl, of these? --Open them, bay!-
A deed of death, done on the innocent,

But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd;
Becomes not Titus' brother. Get thee gone; Come, and take choice of all my library,
I see, thou art not for my company!

And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Reveal the damo'd contriver of this deed.-
Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus ?
How would he hang his slender gilded wings, Mar.I think, she means, that there was more than one
And buz lamenting doings in the air ?

Coufederate in the fact; — ay, more there was ;-
Poor harmless fly!

Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge, That with his pretty buzzing melody,

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so Came here to make us merry: and thou hast kill'd Bor. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis; him.

My mother gave't me.
Mar. Pardon me, sir, 'twas a black ill-favour'd fly, Nar. For love of her that's gone,
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Perhaps she ca'lld it from among the rest.
Tit, 0, 0, 0!

Tit. Sost! see, how busily she turns the leaves!
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

Help her! For thou hast done a charitable deed.

What would she find? - Lavinia, shall I read? Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;

This is the tragic tale of Philomel, Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,

And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape; Come hither purposely to poison me.

And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.- Mar. See, brother, see! note, how she quotes the Ah, sirrah!

leaves. Yet I do think we are not brought so low,

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, But that, between us, we can kill a fly,

Ravish'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? –

Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, See, see! -
He takes false shadows for true substances. Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,
Tit. Come, take away!-Lavinia, go with me! (0, had we never, never hunted there!)
I'll to thy closet, and go read with thee

Pattern’d by that the poet here describes,
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.-

By nature made for murders and for rapes. Come, boy, and go with me! thy sight is young, Mar, 0, why should nature build so foul a det, And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. Unless the gods delight in tragedies !

[Exeunt. Tit. Give sigos, sweet girl, for here are done bat


What Roman lord it was durst do the deed :
А ст IV.

Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
SCENE I. — The same. Before Titus's house. That left the camp to sin in Lucreco bed?
Enter Titus and Marcus. Then enter young Lucius, Mar. Sit down, sweet niece! brother, sit down by
Lavinia running after him.

mc! Boy, Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia

Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Follows me every where, I know not why!

Suspire me, that I may this treason find! --Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes !

My lord, look here! - look here, Lavinia! Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. This sandy plot is plain; guide, it thou canst, Mar. Stand by me, Lucius! do not fear thiue aunt. This after me, when I have writ my name Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Without the help of any hand at all

, Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did.

[He writes his name with his staff

, and Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? Tit. Fear her not, Lucius! - Somewhat doth she Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd'us to this shili..

guides it with his feet and mouth.

Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee: What God will have discover'd for revenge: Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Heaven guide thy pen to print thy Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

That we may know the traitors, and the truth! Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee,

[She takes the staff in her mouth, ard Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator,

guides it with her stumps, and writes. Canst thou not goess wherefore she plies thee thus?

Tit. 0, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Stuprum--Chiron- Demetrius. Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:

Mar. What, what! – the lustful sons of Tamora For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

Tit. Magne Doinina'or poli, Aud I have read, that Hecuba of Troy

Tam lentis audis sceleru tam lentus rides? Ran, mad through sorrow: that made me to fear; Mur. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although I know,


sorrows plain,

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There is enough written upon this earth,

And so I leave you both, [ Aside.) like bloody villains. To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,

[Exeunt Boy and Attendunt. And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.

Dem. What's here? a scroll; and written round My lord, kneel down with me! Laviuiạ; kneel!

about? And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman flector's hope! Let's see! And swear with me, – as with the woful feere,

Integer vitae, scelerisque purus,
And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame,

Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, - Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:
That we will prosecute, by good advice,

I read it in the grammar long ago.
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, Aar. Ay, just! -a verse in Horace; right, you
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

have it.
Tit. 'Tis sure enough, and you knew how, Now, what a thing it is to be au ass!
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware: Here's no sound jest! the old man hath
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, found their guilt ;
She's with the lion deeply still in league, And sends the weapons wrapp'd about
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,

with lines,

And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.

That wound, beyond their feeling, to
You're a young huntsmau, Marcus; let it alone!

the quick.
And, come, I will go get a deaf of brass,

But were our witty empress well a-foot,
And, with a gad of steel, will write these words, She would applaud Andronicus'conceit.
Aud lay it by: the angry northern wind

But let her rest in her unrest a while.--
Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad, And now, young lords, was’t not a happy star
And where's your lesson then? -Boy, what say you ? Led us to Rome, strangers, and, more than so,

Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Captires, to be advanced to this height?
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe It did me good, before the palace gate,
For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.
Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord
For this ungrateful country done the like.

Basely insinuate, and send is gifts.
Boy. And, aucle, so will l, an if I live.

Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius?
Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury; Did you not use his danghter very friendly?
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy

Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames
Shall carry from me to the empress' sous

At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
Presents, that I intend to send them both:

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
Come, come! thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Aar. Here lacks but pour mother for to say amen,
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, graudsire! Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more.
Tit. No, boy, uot so! I'll teach thee another course. Dem. Come, let us go! and pray to all the gods
Lavinia, come!- Marcus, look to my house; For our beloved mother in her pains.
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court;

Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us
Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on!


[.4 side. Flourisha
[Exeunt Tilus, Lavinia, and Boy. Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish
Mar. O heavens, call you hear a good man groan, thus?
Aud not relent, or not compassion him?

Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,

Dem. Soft! who comes here?
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,

Enter a Nurse, with a black-a-moor child in her
Than foemen's marks upon his baller'd shield:
But yet so just, that he will not r venge :

Nur. Good-morrow, lords !
Reveuge the heavens for old Audronicus! (Exit. O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

Aar. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
SCENE II. — The sume. A room in the palace. Bere Aaron is; and what with Aaron now?
Enter Aaron, CKiron, and DEMETRIUS, at one door; Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
at another door, young Lucius, and un Attendunt, Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!
with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep?

What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucins;

Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's De buth some message to deliver to 118.

dur. Ay, some mad message from his mad grand-Our empress’ shame, and stately Rome's disgrace; -

She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd!
Boy. My lords, with all the bumbleuess I

may, Aar. To whom?
I greet your honours from Andronicus;


mean, sire's brought to bed.
pray the Roman gods confound you both! Aar. Well, God

[.1 side. Give her good rest! What hath le sent her?
Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius! What's the news? Nur, A devil.
Boy. Thut you are both decypher’d, that's the Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam; a joyful

For villains, mark'd with rape. (Aside.] May it please Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue!

Here is the babe, as loathsome as a tead
My grandsire, well-advis’d, hath sent by me Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The goodliest weapons of his armoury,

The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy scal,
To gratify your honourable youth,

And bids three christen it with thy dagger's point. The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say, Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a And so I do, and with his gists present

hue? Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure! You may be armed and appointed welk:

Dem. Villain, what hast thou done?

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dar, Done! that which thon

And no one else, but the deliver'd empress.
Canst not undo.

Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and yourself:
Chi, Thou hast undone our mother.

Two may keep counsel, when the third's away:
Aur. Villain, I have done thy mother,

Go to the empress; tell her, this I said ! -
Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone!

[Stabbing her.
Woe to her chance, and damn’il her loathed choice! Weke, weke! - So cries a pig prepared to the spit.
Accurs’d the offspring of so foul a fiend !

Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore
Chi. It shall not live.

didst thou this?
Aar. It shall not die.

Aar. O lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy:
Nur. Aaron, it must! the mother wills it so! Shall she live to betray this guilt of oars?
Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man, but I, A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? no, lords, no!
Do execution on my flesh and blood.

And now be it known to you my full intent.
Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point: Not far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman,
Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it! His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;
Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up! His child is like to her, fair as you are:

[Takes the child from the Nurse, and draws. Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? And tell them both the circumstance of all; Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,

And how by this their child shall be advanc'd,
That shone so brightly when this boy was got, And be received for the emperor's heir,
He dies upon my scymitar's sharp point,

And substituted in the place of mine,
That touches this my first-born son and heir! To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,

And let the emperor dandle him for his owa.
With ail his threatening baud of Typłon's brood, Hark ye, lords! ye see that I have given her physic

, Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,

[Pointing to the Nurse.
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. And you must needs bestow her funeral;
What, what, ye sanguine shallow-hearted boys! The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms :
Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs! This done, see that you take no longer days,
Coal-black is better, than another hue,

But send the midwife presently to me.
In that it scorns to bear another hue :

The midwile, and the nurse, well made away,
For all the water in the ocean

Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, Chi. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air
Although she lave them hourly in the flood. With secrets.
Tell the empress from me, I am of age

Dem. For this care of Tamora,
To keep mine own; excuse it how she can. Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? (Exeunt Dern. and Chi. bearing off the Nurse.
Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this, myself; Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies!
The vigour, and the picture of my youth; There to dispose this treasure in mive arms,
This, before all the world do I prefer;

And secretly to greet the empress’ friends. -. This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe,

Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you heace! Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

For it is you that puts us to our shifts:
Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd.

I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her And cabin in a cave; and bring you up

To be a warrior, and command a camp.
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignominy.
dar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: SCENE III.--The same. A public place.
Fy, treacherous hue! that will betray with blushing Enter Tirus, bearing arrows, with letters at the
The close enacts and counsels of the heart!

ends of them; with him Marcus, young Lucies, Here's a young lad fram’d of another leer:

and other Gentlemen, with bows. Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father; Tit. Come, Marcus, come! - Kinsmen, this is the As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own.

way! He is your brother, lords! sensibly fed

Sir buy, now let me see your archery; Of that self-blood that first gave life to you; Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight

: Aud, from that womb, where you imprison'd were, Terras Astraea reliquit: He is enfranchised and come to light:

Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's sled! Nav, he's your brother by the surer side,

Sirs, take you to your tools! You, cousins, shall
Although my seal be stamped in his face.

Go sound the ocean, and cast your bets :
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress ?

Bappily you may find her in the sea;
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, Yet there's as little justice as at land :-,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice;

No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.


you must dig with mattock, and with spade, Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult!

And pierce the inmost centre of the earth; My son and I will have the wind of you :

Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
Keep there! Now talk at pleasure of your safety! I

pray you, deliver him this petition;
[They sit on the ground. Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid;
Dem. How many women saw this child of his? And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Aar. Why, so, brave lords! When we all join in Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome: --

Ah, Rome ! - Well, well; I made thee miserable, I am a lamb: but if yon brave the Moor,

What time I threw the people's suffrages The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,

On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.

Go, get you gone! and pray be careful all,
Bit, say again, how many saw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife and myself,

And leave you not a man of war ansearch'd;
This wick'd emperor may have shipp'd her hence,


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ever seen

And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve

Mar, 0, Publius, is not this a heavy case, for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

to the emperor from you.
Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns, Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the
By day and night to attend him carefully; emperor with a grace?
And feed his humour kindly as we may,

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all
Till time beget some careful remedy.

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Tit. Sirrah, come hither! make no more ado,
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war But give your pigeons to the emperor:
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,

By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Hold , hold; mean while, here's money for thy
Tit. Pablius, how now? how now, my masters?

What, have you met with her?

Give me a pen and ink!-
Pub. No, my good lord! but Pluto sends you word, Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a snpplication ?
If you will have revenge from hell, you shall : Clo, Ay, sir!
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,

Tit. Then here is a supplication for yon. And when
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, you come to him, at the first approach, you must
So that perforce you must needs stay a time. kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your

Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. pigeons; and then look for your reward; I'll be at
I'll dive into the burning lake below,

hand, sir; see you do it bravely.
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone !
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;

Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it!
No big-bon’d men, fram’d of the Cyclops' size : Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back; For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant:-
Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear: And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
And, sith there is no justice in earth nor hell, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
We will solicit heaven ; and move the gods, Clo. God be with you, sir! I will.
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs : Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go:-

Publius, follow me!
Come, to this gear! You are an archer, Marcus.

Exeunt. (He give them the arrows. SCENE IV.- The same. Before the palace. Ad Jovem, that's for you ! - Here, ad Apollinem :- Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CITRON, DEMETRIUS, Ad Martem, that's for myself!

Lords, and Others: SATURNINUS with the arrows Here, boy, to Pallas ! -- Here, to Mercury:

in his hand, thut Tutu's shot.*
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine,

Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was
You were as good to shoot against the wind. -
To it, boy ! Marcus, loose when I bid :

An emperor of Rome thus overborne,
O’ my word, I have written to effect :

Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
There's not a god lelt unsolicited.

Of legal justice, us’d in such contempt?
Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court : My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

However these disturbers of our peace
Tit. Now, masters, draw! (They shoot.] 0, well Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass’d,
said, Lucius !

But even with law, against the wilful sons
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas!

of old Andronicus. And what an if
Mar. My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon; His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thon done? His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness ?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. And now he writes to heaven for his redress :
Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius See, here's to Jove, and this to Vercury;

This to Apollo: this to the god of war:
The bull being gall'd gave Aries such a knock, Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
That down fell both the ram's horns in the court; What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And who should find them but the empress’ villain? And blazoning our injustice every where?
She laugh’d, and told the Moor, he should not choose A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
But give them to his master for a present.

As who should say, in Rome no justice were.
Tit. Why, there it goes : God give your lordship joy! But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies
Enter a Clown, with a basket and two pigeons. Shall be no shelter to these outrages :
News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come! - But he and his shall know, that justice lives
Sirrah, what tidings ? have you any letters ? In Saturoinus' health ; whom, if she sleep,
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter ?

He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives.
taken them down again, for the man must not be Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
hanged till the next week.

Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
Ti. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? *

Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter ; I never drank The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
with him in all my life.

Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his
Tit. Why, villain, art thou not the carrier ?

Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Tit. Why, didst not thou come from heaven? Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,

Clo. From heaven? alas, sir, I never came there: For these contempts. - Why, thus it shall become
God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven High-witted Tamora to glose with all: Aside.
in my young days, Why, I am going with my pigeons But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men, Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port.

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