Tit. Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she

mean.

See Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee:
Some whither would she have thee go with her.
Ay, boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee,
Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.

Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ?

Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her. For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad; And I have read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow. That made me to fear; Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Which made me down to throw my books, and fly, Causeless, perhaps.—But pardon me, sweet aunt: And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. Mar. Lucius, I will.

[LAVINIA turns over the books which LUCIUS has let fall.

Tit. How now, Lavinia ?-Marcus what means this?

Some book there is that she desires to see.
Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy,
But thou art deeper read, and better skilled;
Come and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow till the heavens
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?
Mar. I think she means that there was more

than one

Confederate in the fact. Ay, more, there was: Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Boy. Grandsire, 't is Ovid's Metamorphosis; My mother gave 't me.

Mar. For love of her that 's gone,
Perhaps she culled it from among the rest.
Tit. Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!
Help her.

What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read?
This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape;
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.
Mar. See, brother, see! note how she quotes
the leaves.

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,

Ravished and wronged as Philomela was,
Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?
See, see!

Ay such a place there is, where we did hunt,

(O had we never, never hunted there!)
Patterned by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.
Mar. O why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies!

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none
but friends,

What Roman lord it was durst do the deed :
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece; brother, sit down
by me.

Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Inspire me, that I may this treason find!-
My lord, look here.- Look here, Lavinia :
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me, when I have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.

[He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with his feet and mouth. Cursed be that heart, that forced us to this shift!— Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, What God will have discovered for revenge: Heaven guide thy pen to print our sorrows plain, That we may know the traitors, and the truth!

[She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes. Tit. O do you read, my lord, what she hath writ?

"Stuprum-Chiron-Demetrius."

Mar. What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous bloody deed?

Tit. Magne Dominator poli,

Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? Mar. O calm thee; gentle lord! although I know

There is enough written upon this earth
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
And swear with me (as with the woful feere,
And father of that chaste dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape)
That we will prosecute, by good advice,
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how,
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware:
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.
You 're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And, with a gad of steel, will write these words,
And lay it by the angry northern wind

:

Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad, And where's your lesson then? Boy, what say you?

Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Mar. Ay that 's my boy! thy father hath full oft For this ungrateful country done the like.

Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury; Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal my boy Shall carry from me to the empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come; thou 'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.

Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another

course.

Lavinia, come.-Marcus, look to my house;
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court;
Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we 'll be waited on.
[Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Boy.
Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man
groan,

And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy;
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Than foemen's marks upon his battered shield :
But yet so just, that he will not revenge.
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! [Exit.

The hope of Rome, for so he bade me say,
And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
You may be arméd and appointed well:
And so I leave you both [Aside] like bloody
villains. [Exeunt Box and Attendant.
Dem. What's here? a scroll and written round
about?

Let's see:

Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.

Chi. O, 't is a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay, just! a verse in Horace; right, you have it.

Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
Here's no sound jest; the old man hath found
their guilt;

And sends the weapons wrapped about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well a-foot,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.- [Aside.
And now, young lords, was 't not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and, more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good, before the palace gate,
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman

Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O that which I would hide from heaven's

eye,

Our empress' shame and stately Rome's disgrace.

She is delivered, lords, she is delivered.

Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean she 's brought to bed.

Aar. Well, God give her good rest!

What hath he sent her?

Nur. A devil.

Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam; a

joyful issue.

Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful

issue.

Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.
Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a
hue?-

Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
Dem. Villain, what hast thou done?

Aar. Done! that which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou hast undone our mother.
Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast un

done.

Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice!

Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend!

Chi. It shall not live.

Aar. It shall not die.

Nur. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so. Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man,

but I,

Do execution on my flesh and blood.

Coal-black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean

Can never turn a swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the empress from me, I am of age
To keep mine own; excuse it how she can.

Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? Aar. My mistress is my mistress, this myself; The vigour, and the picture of my youth:

This, before all the world do I prefer ;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe,
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

Dem. By this our mother is for ever shamed.
Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape.
Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her
death.

Chi. I blush to think upon this ignominy. Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears.

Fie, treacherous hue! that will betray with blushing

The close enacts and counsels of the heart!
Here's a young lad framed of another leer.
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father;
As who should say, "Old lad, I am thine own."
He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed
Of that self-blood that first gave life to you;
And, from that womb, where you imprisoned

were,

He is enfranshiséd and come to light:
Nay, he's your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.

Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice;
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.

Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult.

point.

Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch

it.

Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy

bowels up.

[Takes the child from the Nurse, and draws. Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother?

Now by the burning tapers of the sky,
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scymitar's sharp point,
That touches this my first-born son and heir!
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,
With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what, ye sanguine shallow-hearted boys!
Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs!

Keep there. Now talk at pleasure of your safety. [They sit on the ground. Dem. How many women saw this child of his? Aar. Why so, brave lords. When we all join in league,

I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.-
But, say again, how many saw the child?

Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself,
And no one else but the delivered empress.

Aar. The empress, the midwife, and yourself: Two may keep counsel, when the third's away: Go to the empress; tell her this I said :

[Stabbing her. Weke, weke !-so cries a pig prepared to the spit. Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this?

Aar. O lord, sir, 't is a deed of policy. Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours:

A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far one Muliteus lives, my countryman,
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;
His child is like to her, fair as you are:

Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumstance of all;
And how by this their child shall be advanced,
And be received for the emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine.
To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords! ye see that I have given her
physic, [Pointing to the Nurse.

And you must needs bestow her funeral;
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
This done, see that you take no longer days,
But send the midwife presently to me.
The midwife and the nurse well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they please.

Chi. Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air With secrets.

Dem.

For this care of Tamora, Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.

[Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the Nurse.

Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies;

There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
And secretly to greet the empress' friends.-
Come on, you thick-lipped slave, I'll bear you
hence;

For it is you that puts us to our shifts.
I'll make you feed on berries and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
And cabin in a cave; and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit.

Happily you may find her in the sea;
Yet there's as little justice as at land.
No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;
"T is you must dig with mattock and with spade,
And pierce the inmost centre of the earth;
Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
I pray you deliver him this petition;
Tell him it is for justice, and for aid;
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.—
Ah, Rome!-Well, well; I made thee miserable,
What time I threw the people's suffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannise o'er me.—
Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,
And leave you not a man of war unsearched;
This wicked emperor may have shipped her hence,
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night to attend him carefully;
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some careful remedy.

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius, how now? how now my masters? What, have you met with her?

Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends
word,

If you will have revenge from hell you shall.
Marry, for justice, she is so employed,

you

He thinks with Jove in heaven, or somewhere

else,

So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below, And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we; No big-boned men, framed of the Cyclops' size: But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back; Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs

can bear:

And, sith there is no justice in earth nor hell,
We will solicit heaven; and move the gods
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs.
Come, to this gear.

You are an archer, Marcus. [He gives them the arrows. AdJovem, that's for you:-here, ad Apollinem: — Ad Martem, that's for myself:

Here, boy, to Pallas :—here, to Mercury:
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;

You were as good to shoot against the wind.—
To it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid:
O' my word, I have written to effect:
There's not a god left unsolicited.

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the

court:

We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O well said, Lucius!

Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,

The bull being galled gave Aries such a knock, That down fell both the ram's horns in the court, And who should find them but the empress' villain?

She laughed, and told the Moor he should not choose

But give them to his master for a present.

Tit. Why there it goes. God give your lordship joy!

Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons. News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is

come.

Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why, villain, art thou not the carrier? Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. Tit. Why, didst not thou come from heaven? Clo. From heaven? alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

Tit. Sirrah, come hither; make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor : By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold;-meanwhile here's money for thy charges.

Give me a pen and ink.

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?

Clo. Ay, sir.'

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.

Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone.
Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come let me
see it.-

Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.—
And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
Clo. God be with you, sir; I will.
Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go.-Publius, fol-
low me.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The Same. Before the Palace. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, Lords, and others. SATURNINUS, with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot. Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was

ever seen

An emperor
of Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
Of legal justice, used in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath passed,

But even with law, against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelmed his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress.
See here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
This to Apollo; this to the god of war:
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
As who should say, in Rome no justice were.
But, if I live, his feignéd ecstacies

Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know, that justice lives
In Saturninus' health: whom, if she sleep,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath pierced him deep, and scarred his heart;