First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw: Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. This minion stood upon her chastity,

Mart. And mine, I promise you: were't not for Upon her nuptial vow, her loyally,

shame, And with that pointed hope braves your mightiness: Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. And shall she carry this unto her grave!

(MARTIus falls into the Pil. Chi. Au if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Quin. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hol Draz bence her husband to some secret hole,

is this, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers:

Tam. But when you have the honey you desire, upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.

As fresh as morning's dew distillid on lowers? Chi. I warrant you, madam; we will make that A very fatal place it seems to me:sure.

Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy

Mart. 0, brother, with the dismallest object That nice-preserved honesty of yours.

That ever cye, with sight, made heart la ment. Lar. () Tamora! Thou bear'st a woman's face,- Aur. ( Asile.) Now will I fetch the king to find Tam. I will not hear her speak; away with her.

them here; Luv. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me buta word. That he therehy may give a likely guess,

Dem. Listen, tàir madam: Let it be your glory How these were they that made a way his brother To see her tears: but be your heart to ihem,

Erit AARON. As unrelenting fint to drops of rain.

Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out Lar. When did the tiger's young ones teach the From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? dam!

Quin. I am surprised with an upcouth fear: 0, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee: A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; The milk thou suckidst from her, did turn to My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. marble;

Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.

Aaron and thou look down into this den, Yet every mother breeds not sons alike;

And see a fearful sight of blood and death. Do thou entreat her show a wornan pity.

Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart

(To Chirox. will not permit mine eyes once to behold Chi. What! wouldst thou have me prove myself The thing whereat it trembles by surmise: a bastard ?

0, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now Lav. "Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark; Was I a child, to fear I know not what. Yet I have heard, (O could I find it now!)

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrued here, The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure

All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, To have his princely paws pared all away.

In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. Some say, that ravens foster forlorn children,

Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? The whilst their own birds tamish in their nests: Murt. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 0, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,

A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

which, like a taper in some monument, Tam. I know not what it means; away with Doth shine upon the dead man's carthy cheeks, her.

And shows the ragged entrails of this pit: Lav. 0, let me teach thee: for my father's sake, So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood. thee,

O brother, help me with thy fainting hand-
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath-
Tam. Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
Even for his sake am I pitiless :-

As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.
Remember, boys, ! pour'd forth tears in vain, Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee
To save your brother from the sacritice;

out; But fierce Andronicus would not relent.

Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will: I may be pluck'd into the swallowing woinb The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. Lav. 0 Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. And with thine own hands kill me in this place; Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy For 'tis not lite, that I have begg'd so long;

help. Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.

Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose again Tam. What begy'st thou then? fond woman, let Till thou art here alott, or I below: me go.

Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. Lav. "Tis present death I beg: and one thing

(Falls in. more,

Enter SATURNINUS and AARON.
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, kecp me from their worse than killing lust,

Sat. Along with me: I'll see what hole is here And tumble me into some loathsome pit;

And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. Where never man's eye may behold my body:

Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

Into this gaping hollow of the earth? Tum. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus; No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.

Lav. No grace? No womanhood ? Ah, beastly He and his lady both are at the lodge,
Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long. To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

Sat. My brother dead? I know thou dost but jest creature! The blot and enemy to our general name!

Upon the north side of this pleasant chase: Confusion fall

'Tis not an hour since I let him there. Chi. Nay, then, I'll stop your mouth :-- Bring But, out alas! here have we found him dead.

Mart. We know not where you left him all aliwe, thou her husband;

[ Dragging off LAVINIA. Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; Titus ANDROThis is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.

NICI'S, and LUCIUS.

(Exeunt. Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you make

Tam. Where is my lord the king ? her sure:

Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,

grief. Till all the Andronici be made away.

Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,

Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my And let my spleenful sons this trull detlour. [Exit.

wound;

Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
SCENE IV.-The same.

Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,

(Giving a letier. Enter A ARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS. The complot of this timeless tragedy ; Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot before: And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.

* Untimely.

in;

Sat. [Reads.) An if we miss to meet him hand- Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to somely,

Wash; Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean,

And so let's leave her to her silent walks. Do thou so much as dig the grave for him;

Chi. An'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward Dem. If thou hadst harids to help thee knit the Among the nettles at the eliler-free,

cord. (Exeunt DEMETRIUS and Chirox. Which oversha les the mouth of that same pit,

Enter MARCUS.
Where we decree l to bury Bassiumus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lusting friends.

Marc. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so 0, 'Tamora! was ever heard the like?

fast? This is the pit, and this the elder-tree:

Cousin, a word; Where is your husband ?Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out, If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake That should have murder'd Bassianus here.

me ! Aur. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. If I do wake, some planet strike me down,

[Showing it. That I may slumber in eternal sleep!Sat. Two of thy whelps, (To Tit.] iell curs of Speali, gentle niece, what stern unyentle hands bloody kind,

Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Have here berett my brother of his life :

Of her two branches? those sweet ornaments, Sırs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep There let them bide, until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. And might not gain so great a happiness, Tam. What, are they in this pit? 0 wondrous As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?thing!

Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, How casily murder is discovered!

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr’d with wind, Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee

Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, Coming and going with thy honey breath.
That this fell tault of my accursed sons,

But, sure, some Terens haih deiloured thee;
Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,

And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Sat. If it be prov'd! you see it is apparent,- Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame! Who found this letter? "Tamora, was it you ? And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.

As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail : Yet do thy chceks look red as Titan's face, For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,

Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. They shall be ready at your highness' will, Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, 'tis so? To answer their suspicion with their lives. 0, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, Sat. Thou shalt not bail them : see, thou follow That I might rail at him to ease my mind! me.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur- Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. derers :

Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain: And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind: For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; That end upon them should be executed.

A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king; And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. That could have better sewid than Philomel. Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with O, had the monster seen those lily hands them.

(Exeunt severally. Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, SCENE V.-The same.

He would not then have touch'd them for his life:

Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, Enter DEMETRICS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA ; her Which that sweet tongue hath made,

hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. He would have dropp'd his knite, and fell asleep, Dem. So now, go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd ihee. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind: Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning For such a sight will blind a father's eye: SO;

One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. What will whole months of tears thy father's Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can

eyes? scowl.

Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy 0, could our mourning ease thy misery! hands.

(Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE 1.-Rome. A Street.

() earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,

That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, Than youthful April shall with all his showers:

with MARTIus and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to The Place of Execution : Titus going before, In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,

In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; pleading

And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent

Enter Lucius, with his Sword drawn.
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;

0, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men! For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;

Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And for these bitter tears, which now you see

And let me say, that never wept before, Filling the aged wrinkles in my checks;

My tears are now prevailing orators. Be pitiful to my condemned sons,

Luc. (), noble faiher, you lament in vain; Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought!

The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, For two and twenty sons I never wept,

And you recount your sorrows to a stone. Becaise they died in honor's lofty bed.

Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write

Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of yo [Throwing himself on the Ground.

Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears.

speak. Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;

Tit. Why, 'lis no matter, man: if they did hear My sons'sweet blood will make it shame and blush. They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, (Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, fc. with

All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. the Prisoners.

• Orpheus.

thine eyes.

own.

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;

No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
For that they will not intercept my tale:

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet

Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,

Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
Rome could ailord no tribune like to these. How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than With miry slime left on them by a flood ?
stones:

And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
A stone is silent, and offendeth not;

Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
drawn?

Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death: Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
For which attempt, the judges have pronounced What shall we do? let us that have our tongues,
My everlasting doom of banishment.

Plot some device of further misery,
Tit. ( happy man! they have befriended thee. To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive

Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?

grief,
Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
But me and mine: How happy art thou, then, Marc. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry
From these devourers to be banished!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot,
Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA.

Thy napkin2 cannot drink a tear of mine,

For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine
Marc. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her
Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then.

signs:
Marc. This was thy daughter.

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.

That to her brother which I said to thee;
Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!

His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks:
her:-

0, what a sympathy of woe is this?
Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand

As far from help as limbo is from bliss!
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea ?

Enter AARON.
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
My grief was at the height before thou cam’st,

Sends thee this word,—That, if thou love thy sons,
And now, like Nilus,9 it disdaineth bounds.- Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;

And send it to the king: he for the same,
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life;

Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,

And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
And they have serv'd me to effectless use:

Tit. 0, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron!
Now, all the service I require of them

Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
Is that the one will help to cut the other.-

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ?
"Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;

With all my heart, I'll send the emperor
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. My hand :

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Marc
. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts

, That hath thrown down so many enemies,

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage;

Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn:
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung

My youth can better spare my blood than you; Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. Luc. 0, say thou for her, who hath done this Marc. Which of your hands hath not detended deed?

Rome,
Marc. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,

Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.

0, none of both but are of high desert:
Tit. It was my deer, and he that wounded her

My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
Hath hurt ine more, than had he killed me dead : To ransoin my two nephews from their death;
For now I stand as one upon a rock,

Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;

Aar. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,

For fear they die before their pardon come.
Expecting ever when some envious surge

Marc. My hand shall go.
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

Luc.

By heaven, it shall not go This way to death my wretched sons are gone;

Tu. Sirs, strive no more : such wither'd herbs as Here stands my other son, a banish'd man;

these And here my brother, weeping at my woes;

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn,

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul,

son, Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,

Let me redeem my brothers both from death. It would have madded me; What shall I do

Marc. And, for our father's sake, and mother's Now I behold thy lovely body so?

care,
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears;

Now let me show a brother's love to thee.
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:

Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death,

Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:

Marc.

But I will use the axe. Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!

[Exeunt Lucics and MARCUS. When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears

Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both. Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew

Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
Marc. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd And never, whilst I live, deceive men so :-
her husband:

But I'll deceive you in another sort,
Perchance, because she knows them innocent.

And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,

(Aside. Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.

[He cuts off Titus's Hand. 9 The river Nile.

Enter Lucius and MARCUS.

And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes, Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is de

And make them blind with tributary tears; spatch'd.

Then which way shall I tind revenge's cave ?

For these two heads do seem to speak to me; Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand : Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, From thousand dangers: bid him bury it;

Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, More hath it merited, that let it have.

Even in their throats that have committed them.

Come, let me see what task I have to do.-
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;

You heavy people, circle me about;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

That I may turn me to each one of you, Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,

And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.

The vow is made.-Come, brother, take a head; Look by and by to have thy sons with thee :Their heads, I 'mcan.-0, how this villany

And in this hand the other will I bear: [ Aside.

Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!

Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,

teeth. Aaron will have his soul black like his face. ['Exit. As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight: Tit. (), here I lift this one hand up to heaven,

Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay :

Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
If any power pities wretched tears,

And, if you love me, as I think you do,
To that I call :-What, wilt thou kneel with me?

Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. (To LAVINIA.

[Exeunt Titus, MARCCS, and LAVINIA. Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!

Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; prayers;

Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin3 dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds,

He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.

Farewell, Lavínia, my noble sister;
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
Marc. O brother, speak with possibilities,

0, 'would thou wert ås thou 'tofore hast been ! And do not break into these deep extremes.

But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia, lives,

But in oblivion, and hateful griets.
Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?

If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
Then be my passions' bottomless with them.
Marc. But yet let reason govern thy lament.

And make proud Saturninus and his empress

Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, Then into limits could I bind my woes:

[Exit. When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er- To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. flow?

SCENE II.-A Room in Titus's House. If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,

A Banquet set out.
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?5

Enter Titus, Marcus, LAVINIA, and young LuI am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!

CICS, Boy. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth :

Tit. So, so ; now sit: and look you eat no more Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Than will preserve just so much strength in us Then must my earth with her continual tears As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Become a deluge, overtlow'd and drown'd: Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, But, like a drunkard, must I vomit them.

And cannot passionate our tenfold grief Then give me leave; for losers will have leave With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine so ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand. Beats in this hollow prison of my tesh,

And when my heart, all mad with misery, Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid Then thus I thump it down.For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;

[TO LAVINIA. And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back: When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mockd:

Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. That woe is me to think upon thy woes,

Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; More than remembrance of my father's death. Or get some little knife between thy teeth,

(Exit. And just against thy heart make thou a hole ; Marc. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,

That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, And be my heart an ever-burning hell!

May run into that sink, and soaking in, These miseries are more than may be borne ! Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. To weep with them that weep, doth ease some deal, Marc. Fye, brother, fye! teach her not thus to But sorrow flouted at is double death.

lay Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a Such violent hands upon her tender life. wound,

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

already ? That ever death should let life bear his name, Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! What violent hands can she lay on her life?

(LAVINIA kisses him. Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, As frozen water to a starved snake.

How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ? Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands;

Marc. Now, farewell, flattery: Die, Andronicus: | Lest we remember still, that we have none.Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; Fye, fye, how franticly I square my talk! Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; As if we should forget we had no hands, Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight It Marcus did not name the word of hards! Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Come, let's tall to; and, gentle girl, eat this :Even like a stony image, cold and numb.

Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs : I can interpret all her martyr'd signs: Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand

She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks :6 The closing up of our most wretched eyes! Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? In thy dumb action will I be as perfect, Til. Ha, ha, ha!

As begging hermits in their holy prayers : Marc. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, hour.

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed : But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet. Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

And, by still? practice, learn to know thy meaning. 3 The sky. • Suffering. • Stir, bustle. . An allusion to brewing. . Constant or continual practice. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep Marc. Pardon me, sir; 'twas a black ill-favor'd lainents:

fly,
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.

Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, Til. (), 0, 0,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

Tit. Peace,tender sapling; thou art made of tears, For thou hast done a charitable deed.
And tears will quickly melt thy lite away.-. Give me thy knite, I will insult on him;

(MARCUS strikes the Dish with a knife. Flattering inyself, as it it were the Moor, What dost dlou strike at, Marcus, with thy kone! Come hither purposely to poison me.-

Mure. At ihat that I have kill'd, my lord; a tly. There's for thyselt, and that's for Tumora.-
Tu. Outon thee murderer! thou kill'st my heart: Ah, sirrah!9_
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: Yei I do think we are not brought so low,
A deed of death, done on the innocent,

But that, between us, we can kill a tly,
Becomics not Titus brother: Get thee gone; That coines in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
I see thou art noi for my company:

Marc. Alas, poor man! griet' has so wrought on
Marc. Alas, my lord. I have bui kill'd a fly.

him,
Tit But bow, if that fly had a father and mother? He takes false shadows for true substances.
How would he hang his slender giided wings, Tit. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me:
And buz lainenting doings in the air ?

I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee
Poor harmless fly!

Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.That with his pretty buzzing melody,

Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. him.

Eicunt.

ACT IV.

aunt.

Ent D AL Fc

mean:

SCENE I.–Before Titus's House.

What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read!

This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
Enter Titus and MARCUS. Then enter young And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape;

LUCICS, LAVINIA running after him. And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.
Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia

Mur. See, brother, see; note, how she quotes!

the leaves. Follows me everywhere, I know not why :Good uncle Marcus, see how switi she comes !

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprisid, sweet girl,
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
Murc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine Forced in the ruthless,2 vast, and gloomy woods! -

See, see!
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,
Boy. Ay: when iny father was in Rome, she did. (o, had, we never, nover, hunted there!)
Marr. What means my niece Lavinia' by these Pattern’d by that the poet here describes,
signs!

By nature made for murders, and for rapes.
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :—Somewhat doth she

Marc. () why should nature build so foul a den,

Unless the gods delight in tragedies! See, Lucius, sce, how much she makes of thee:

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl,--for here are none Somewhither would she have thee go with her.

but friends,Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

What Roman lord it was durst do the decd: Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee,

Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator.

That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? Marc. Sit down, sweet niece ;- brother, sit down
Boy. My lord, I kuow not, I, nor can I guess,

by me.Unless some tit or frenzy do possess her:

Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,

Iuspire me, that I may this treason find !Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

My lord, look bere ;-Look here, Lavinia: And I have read that Hecuba of Troy

This sandy plot is plain; guide, it thou canst, Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to fear: This after me, when I have writ my name Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt

Without the help of any hand at all. Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,

(He writes his Name with his Sloff. ad And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:

guides it wuh his feet and Mörik. Which made me down to ihrow my books, and fly; Curs d he that heart, that forced us to this shin! Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet aunt: Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

What God will have discover'd for revente: I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
Marc. Lucius, I will.

That we may know the traitors, and the truth!
(LAVINIA turns over the Books which (She takes the staff' in her youth, and guiles
Lucius has let fall.

it with her Stümps, and writes.
Tit. How now, Lavinia ?---Marcus, what means Tit. O, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ?
this!

Stuprum-Chiron-- Demetrius.
Some book there is that she desires to see :

Marc. What, what!-the lustful sons of Tamora
Which is it, girl, of these?--Open them, boy:- Performers of this beinous, bloody deed?
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd;

Tit. Magne Dominator poli,
Come, and take choice of all my library,

Tum lentus autis scelera? tum lentus viles? And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens

Marc. (), calın thee, gentle lord! althougb 1 Reveal the damn'i contriver of this deed.

know, Why lifts she up her arins in sequence thus? There is enough written upon this earth, Marc. I think, she means, that there was more To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, than one

And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
Confederate in the fact:--Ay, more there was:- My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, Joneel;
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she losseth so? And swear with me,-as with the woeril teere,
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; And father, of that chaste dishonor'd dame,
My mother gave't me.

Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrcre rape,-
Marc.

For love of her that's gone, That we will prosecuie, by good advice, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,

74. Son! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! And see their blood, or die with this rep:oach. Help her:-

, This was formerly not a disrespectful expression • Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator.

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