The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

Chi. I warrant you, madam; we will make that sure.

Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy
That nice-preserved honesty of your's.

Lav. O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,

Tum. I will not hear her speak away with her.

Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

Dem. Listen, fair madam: Let it be your glory

To see her tears: but be your heart to them,
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.

Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam?

Oh! do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee: The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble;

SCENE IV.-The same.

Enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIES. Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot be. fore:

Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit,
Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. Mart. And mine, I promise you; wer't not for shame,

Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
[MARTIUS falls into the Pit.
Quin. What art thou fallen? What subtle hole
is this,

Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers ;
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood,
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me :-
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mart. O brother, with the dismallest object
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament.
Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to
find them here;

Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.Yet every mother breeds not sons alike; Do thou entreat her show a woman's pity. [TO CHIRON. Chi. What! would'st thou have me prove my-That he thereby may give a likely guess, self a bastard ? How these were they that made away his brother. [Exit. Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help

Lav. 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark :

Yet I have heard (oh! could I find it now!)
The lion mov'd with pity, did endure
To have his princely paws par'd all away.
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their
nests:

Oh! be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

Tam. I know not what it means: away with her.

Lav. Oh! let me teach thee: for my father's sake,

That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,

Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

Tam. Had thou in person ne'er offended me Even for his sake am I pitiless :Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent. Therefore away with her, and use her as you will;

The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Lav. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place:

For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long;
Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died.
Tam. What begg'st thou then foud woman,
let me go.

Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more,

That womanhood denies my tongue to tell :
Oh! keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit;
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:

No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.

Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long.

Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah! beastly creature!

The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall-

Chi. Nay, then, I'll stop your mouth :-Bring thou her husband;

[Dragging off LAVINIA. This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. [Exeunt. Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure:

Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower.

[Exit.

me ont

From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole?
Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear:
A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can sec.
Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining
heart,

Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate
heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise:
Oh! tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
Was I child, to fear I know not what.

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit,
Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis
he?

Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy checks, And shows the ragged entrails of this pit : So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand,If fear bath made thee faint, as me it hath,-Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;

Or, wanting 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 strength to pluck thee to the brink. Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.

Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose Till thou art here aloft, or I below: [again, Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. [Falls in.

Enter SATURNINUS and AARON.
Sat. Along with me:-I'll see what hole is
here,

And what he is, that now is leap'd into it.
Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus:
Brought thither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

Sat. My brother dead? I know thou dost but jest:

He and his lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase: 'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Mart. We know not where you left him all alive,

But, out alas! here have we found him dead. Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and Lucius.

Tam. Where is my lord, the king?

Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing grief.

Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus ?

Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound :

Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

Tum. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, [Giving a Letter. The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. Sat. [Reads.] 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 re-
ward

Among the nettles at the elder tree,
Which overshades the mouth of 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.
[Showing it.
Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To TIT.] fell curs of
bloody kind,

Have here bereft my brother of his fe :--
Sirs, drag them from the pit 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 wondrous
thing!

How easily murder is discovered!

Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,Sat. If it be prov'd you see, it is appa

rent.

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 suspicion with their lives.
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see, thou fol-
low me.
[derers :
Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur-
Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain;
For, by my soul, were there worse end than
death,

That end upon them should be executed.

Tam. Audronicus, I will entreat the king: Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come stay not to talk with them.

Of her two branches those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in ;

And might not gain so great a happiness,
As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me ?--
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But sure, some Tereus hath deflower'd thee;
And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy
tongue.

Ah! now thou turnest away thy face for shame,
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,-
As from a conduit with three 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?
Oh! 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 tnon met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
Oh! had the mouster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch'd them for his
life;

Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep.

As Cerberus at the Thracian 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

And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be 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 bed:
For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
[Throwing himself on the Ground.
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears.
Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite:
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and
blush.

[Exeunt SENATORS, TRIBUNES, &c.
with the Prisoners.

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
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,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Enter LUCIUS, with his Sword drawn.
O reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Unbind 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 lament 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
speak.

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did
hear,

They would not mark me; or if they did mark,
All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.
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 tribunes with their tongues doom men to
death.

But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon
drawn?

Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their
death:

For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd
My everlasting doon of banishment.

Tit. O happy man, they have befriended thee.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive,
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?
Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey,
But me and mine: How happy art thou then,
From these devourers to be banished!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;

I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

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.--
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd

thee?

Mar. Oh! 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 sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

Luc. Oh! say thou for her, who hath done this
deed?

Mar. Oh! thus I found her, staying in the
park,

Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,
That hath receiv'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 envions surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
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,
Is 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 lively body so?

Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue to tell me who has martyr'd thee:
Thy husband he is dead: and, for his death,
Thy 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.

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd

her husband:

Perchance, because she knows them innocent.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joy

ful,

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 sign how I may do thee ease:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit rouud about some fountain;
Looking all downwards, to hehold 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?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ?
Or shall 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,

Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. Plot some device of further misery,

Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.

Luc. Ah! me, this object kills me!

To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at
your grief,

Tit. Faint hearted boy, arise, and look upon See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.

her :

Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand

Hath 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 ;

The river Nile.

Mar. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry
thine eyes.

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I
*
wot,

Thy napkin + cannot drink a tear of mine,
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine

cwn.

Luc. Ah! my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.

Tit. Mark, Marqus. mark! I understand her
signs:

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother which I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
Oh! 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

sous,

Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
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 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?

Tit. Oh here I lift this one hand up to hea ven,

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.
Mar. O brother, speak with possibilities.
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Tit. Is not my sorrow deep having no bot-
tom?

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,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?+

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble band of I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!

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 brother's
lives.

Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended
Rome,

And rear'd aloft the bloody battle axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy's 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 have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, coine agree, whose band shall go
along,

For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand shall go.

Luc. By heaven it shall not go.

Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs
as these

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy

Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears
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 losess will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues
Enter a MESSENGER, with two Heads and a
Hand.

Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid
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

Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
These miseries are more than may be borne!
To weep with them that weep doth ease soine
deal,

But sorrow flouted at is double death.

Luc. Ah! that this sight should make so deep a wound,

And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

Tit. Agree between you: I will spare my That ever death should let life bear his name,

band.

Late. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

Mar. But I will use the axe.

[Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS. Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them

both : Lend me thine hand, and I will give thee mine. Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive inen so:But I'll deceive you in another sort, [Aside. And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [He cuts of TITUS' Hand.

Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ?
[LAVINIA kisses him.
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless,
AS frozen water to a starved snake.
Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an
end?

Mar. Now, farewell, flattery: Die, Androni

cus;

Thou dost not slumber see, thy two son's 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 inore will I control thy griets:

Enter LUCIUS and MARCUS.
Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is Rent off thy silver hair, thy other band

despatch'd.

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
Mere hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, 1 account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Audronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:-

[Aside.

Their heads, I mean.-Oh! how this villany
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
(Edit.

Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal
sight

The closing up of our most wretched eyes!
Now is a time to storm-why art thou still?
Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with

fill all these mischiefs be return'd again,
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;
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy
teeth.

As for thee, boy, go, got 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.

[Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA. Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome! Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

Oh! would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been!
But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives,
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.

If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
And make proud Saturninus and his empress
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.

[Exit.

SOENE II-A Room in TITUS' House.A Banquet set out.

Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young LUCIUS, a boy.

Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no

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 tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Is left to tyrannise upon my breast;
And when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.-

Thou map of woe that thus dost talk in signs!
[TO LAVINIA.
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous
beating,

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,
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.

Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?

Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can she lay on her life!
Ah! wherefore dost thou urge the name of

bands;

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Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps 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 thy mean.
ing.

Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Mar. Alas! the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of
tears,

And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-

[MARCUS strikes the Dish with a Knife. What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.

Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'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.

Mar. Alas! my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mo-

ther?

How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buz lamenting doings in the air?
Poor harmless fly !

That, with his pretty buzzing melody,

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd him.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir; 'twas a black ill favour'd fly,

Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
Tit. Oh! oh! oh!

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor
Come hither purposely to poison me.-
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.-
Ah! sirrah! +-

Yet I do think we are not brought so low,
But that, between us, we can kill a fly,
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
Mar. 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
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.-
Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle.
[Exeunt

ACT IV..

SCENE 1.-The same.-Before TITUS'

House.

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-kirjat

The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Nide 9