And plead my Paffion for Lavinia's Love.

Aar. Clubs, Clubs, thefe Lovers will not keep the Peace. Dem. Why Boy, although our Mother (unadvis'd) Gave you a dancing Rapier by your fide,

Are you fo defperate grown to threat your Friends?
Go to; have your Lath glued within your Sheath,
Till you know better how to handle it.

Chi. Mean while Sir, with the little Skill I have,
Full well fhalt thou perceive how much I dare.
Dem. Ay Boy, grow ye fo brave?
Aar. Why now, Lords?

So near the Emperor's Palace dare you draw?
And maintain fuch a Quarrel openly?

Full well I wot the ground of all this Grudge.
I would not for a Million of Gold,

[They draw.

The Cause were known to them it moft concerns.
Nor would your noble Mother, for much more,
Be fo Difhonoured in the Court of Rome.
For fhame put up.

Dem. Not I, till I have fheath'd
My Rapier in his Bofom, and withal

Thruft thefe reproachful Speeches down his Throat,
That he hath breath'd in my Dishonour here.
Chi. For, that I am prepar'd and full refolv'd,
Foul fpoken Coward! -

Thou thundreft with thy Tongue,

And with thy Weapon nothing dar'ft perform.
Aar. Away, I fay.

Now by the Gods that warlike Goths adore,

This petty Brabble will undo us all;

Why Lords and think you not how dangerous

It is to fet upon a Prince's Right?

What is Lavinia then become fo loofe,

Or Baffianus fo degenerate,

That for her Love fuch Quarrels may be broacht,
Without Controulment, Juftice, or Revenge?

Young Lords, beware and should the Empress know
This Difcord's ground, the Mufick would not please

Chi. I care not, I, knew the and all the World,

I love Lavinia more than all the World.

Dem.

Dem. Youngling,

Learn thou to make fome better choice,

Lavinia is thine elder Brother's hope.

Aar. Why are ye mad! Or know ye not in Rome How furious and impatient they be,

And cannot brook Competitors in Love?

I tell you Lords, you do but plot your Deaths
By this devife.

Chi. Aaron, a thoufand Deaths would I propofe,
To atchieve her whom I do love?

Aar. To atchieve her-how !
Dem. Why mak'ft thou it so strange?
She is a Woman, therefore may be woo'd,
She is a Woman, therefore may be won,
She is Lavinia, therefore mult be lov'd.
What Man, more Water glideth by the Mill
Than wots the Miller of, and eafie it is
Of a cut Loaf to fteal a Shive we know:
Tho' Baffianus be the Emperor's Brother,
Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's Badge.
Aar. Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.

Dem. Then why should he defpair, that knows to court it With Words, fair Looks, and Liberality?

What haft thou not full often ftruck a Doe,

And born her cleanly by the Keeper's Nofe?

Aar. Why then it feems fome certain fnatch or fo

Would serve your turns.

Chi. Ay, fo the turn were ferved.

Dem. Aaron, thou haft hit it.

Aar. Would you had hit it too,

Then fhould not we be tir'd with this ado:

Why, ha k ye, hark ve-and are you fuch Fools
To fquare for this? Would it offend you then?

Chi. Faith, not me.

Dem. Nor me, fo I were one.

Aar. For fhame be Friends, and join for that you jar. 'Tis Policy and Stratagem muft do

That you affect, and fo must

you refolve,

That what you cannot as you would atchieve,
You must perforce accomplish as you may:
Take this of me, Lucrece was not more Chafte

Than this Lavinia, Baffianus's Love;
A speedier course than lingring Languishment
Muft we pursue, and I have found the Path.
My Lords, a folemn Hunting is in hand,
There will the lovely Roman Ladies troop :
The Forest walks are wide and fpacious,
And many unfrequented Plots there are,
Fitted by kind for Rape and Villany:
Single you thither then this dainty Doe,
And strike her home by force, if not by words:
This way, or not at all, ftand you in hope.
Come, come, our Emprefs with her facred Wit
To Villany and Vengeance confecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend,
And the fhall file our Engines with advice,
That will not fuffer you to fquare your felves,
But to your wishes heighth advance you both.
The Emperor's Court is like the Houfe of Fame,
The Palace full of Tongues, of Eyes, of Ears:
The Woods are ruthlefs, dreadful, deaf and dull:
There fpeak, and strike, brave Boys, and take your turns.
There ferve your Lufts, fhadow'd from Heaven's Eye,
And revel in Lavinia's Treasury.

Chi. Thy Counsel, Lad, fmells of no Cowardife.
Dem. Si fas aut nefas, 'till I find the streams
To cool this Heat; a Charm to calm their Fits,
Per Styga, per Manes vehor.

SCENE II. A Foreft.

[Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus and his three Sons, making a noife

with Hounds and Horns, and Marcus.

Tit. The hunt is up, the Morn is bright and gray,
The Fields are fragrant, and the Woods are green,
Uncouple here, and let us make a Bay,
And wake the Emperor and his lovely Bride,
And rouze the Prince, and ring a Hunter's Peal,
That all the Court may Eccho with the Noife.
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,
To attend the Emperor's Perfon carefully:
I have been troubled in my Sleep this Night,
But dawning Day new Comfort hath inspir❜d.

Wind Horns. Here a cry of Hounds, and wind Horns in a
Peal; then enter Saturninus, Tamora, Baffianus, Lavinia,
Chiron, Demetrius, and their Attendants.
Tit. Many good morrows to your Majesty,
Madam, to you as many and as good.
I promised your Grace a Hunter's Peal.

Sat. And you have rung it luftily, my Lords,
Somewhat too early for new married Ladies.
Baf. Lavinia, How fay you?

Lav. I fay, No:

I have been awake two hours and more.

Sat. Come on then, Horfe and Chariots let us have, And to our Sport: Madam, now shall ye fee

Our Roman Hunting.

Mar. I have Dogs, my Lord,

Will rouze the proudeft Panther in the Chafe,

And climb the higheft Promontory top.

Tit. And I have Horfe will follow, where the Game

Makes away, and run like Swallows o'er the Plain.

Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with Horfe nor Hound, But hope to pluck a dainty Doe to Ground.

Enter Aaron alone.

[Exeunt.

Aar. He that had Wit, would think that I had none,

To bury fo much Gold under a Tree,

And never after to inherit it.

Let him that thinks of me fo abjectly,

Know that this Gold muft coin a Stratagem,
Which cunningly effected, will beget

A very excellent piece of Villany;

And fo repofe fweet Gold for their unreft,
That have their Alms out of the Empress Cheft.
Enter Tamora.

Tam. My lovely Aaron,

Wherefore look'ft thou fo fad,

When every thing doth make a Gleeful boaft?
The Birds chaunt melody on every Bush,

The Snake lies rolled in the chearful Sun,
The green Leaves quiver with the cooling Wind,
And make a chequer'd fhadow on the Ground:
Under their sweet fhade, Aaron, let us fit,
And whilst the babling Eccho mocks the Hounds,

Replying' fhrilly to the well-tun'd Horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us fit down and mark their yelping noise :
And after confli& fuch as was fuppos'd
The wandring Prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy ftorm they were furpriz'd,
And curtain'd with a Counfel-keeping Cave,
We may each wreathed in the others Ams,
(Our Paftimes done) poffefs a Golden flumber,
Whilft Hounds and Horns, and fweet melodious Birds
Be unto us, as is a Nurfe's Song

Of Lullaby, to bring her Babe asleep.
Aar. Madam,

Though Venus govern your Defires,

Saturn is Dominator over mine:

What fignifies my deadly standing Eye,
My Silence, and my cloudy Melancholy,
My Fleece of woolly Hair, that now uncurls,
Even as an Adder when the doth unrowl
To do fome fatal Execution?

No, Madam, these are no Venereal, figns,
Vengeance is in my Heart, Death in my Hand,
Blood and Revenge are hammering in my Head.
Hark, Tamora, the Emprefs of my Soul,
Which never hopes more Heaven than refts in thee,
This is the Day of Doom for Bafianus ;
His Philomel muft lofe her Tongue to Day,
Thy Sons make Pillage of her Chastity,
And wath their Hands in Baffianus's Blood.
Seeft thou this Letter, take it up I pray thee,
And give the King this fatal plotted Scrowl
Now question me no more, we are efpied,
Here comes a parcel of our hopeful Booty,
Which dreads not yet their Lives deftruction.
Enter Baffianus and Lavinia.

Tam. Ah, my fweet Moor,

Sweeter to me than Life.

Aar. No more, great Emprefs, Ballianus comes;

Be crofs with him, and I'll go fetch thy Sons
To back thy Quarrels, whatfoe'er they be

[Exit.

Baf.