Enter a Goth leading Aaron with his Child in his Arms.
Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our Troops I ftraid
To gaze upon a ruinous Monaftery,
And as I earnestly did fix mine Eye
Upon the wafted Building, fuddenly
I heard a Child cry underneath a Wall;
I made unto the Noife, when foon I heard,
The crying Babe control'd with this Difcourfe:
Peace, Tawny Slave, half me, and half thy Dam,
Did not thy Hue bewray whofe Brat thou art,
Had Nature lent thee but thy Mothers's look,
Villain, thou might'st have been an Emperor:
But where the Bull and Cow are both Milk-white,
They never do beget a Cole-black Calf;
Peace, Villain, Peace, (even thus he rates the Babe)
For I must bear thee to a trufty Goth,
Who when he knows thou art the Emprefs Babe,
Will hold thee dearly for thy Mother's fake.
With this, my Weapon drawn I rufh'd upon him,
Surpriz'd him fuddenly, and brought him hither,
To ufe, as you think needful of the Man.
Luc. Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate Devil,
That robb'd Andronicus of his good Hand;
This is the Pearl that pleas'd your Emprefs's Eye,
And here's the bafe Fruit of his burning Luft.
Say, wall-ey'd Slave, whither would'ft thou convey
This growing Image of thy Fiend-like Face?
Why doft not fpeak? what deaf? no! Not a word?
A Halter, Soldiers hang him on this Tree,
And by his fide his Fruit of Baftardy.
Aar. Touch not the Boy, he is of Royal Blood,
Luc. Too like the Syre for ever being good.
Firft hang the Child, that he may fee it fprall,
A fight to vex the Father's Soul withal.
Aar. Get me a Ladder, Lucius, fave the Child,
And bear it from me to the Emprefs;
If thou do this, I'll fhew, thee wondrous things,
That highly may advantage thee to hear;
If thou wilt not, befall what may befall,
I'll fpeak no more; but Vengeance rot you all.
Lue. Say on, and if it pleafe me, which thou speak'ft
Thy Child fhall live, and I will fee it Nourish'd.
Aar. And if it please thee? why affure thee, Lucius,
'Twill vex thy Soul to hear what I shall speak:
For I must talk of Murthers, Rapes, and Massacres,
Acts of black Night, abominable Deeds,
Complots of Mischief, Treason, Villanies,
Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd,
And this shall all be buried by my Death,
Unless thou swear to me my Child fhall live.
Luc. Tell on thy mind,
I fay thy Child fhall live.
Aar. Swear that he fhall, and then I will begin.
Luc. Who fhould I fwear by?
That granted, how can'ft thou believe an Oath?
Aar. What if I do not, as indeed I do not,
Yet for I know thou art Religious,
And haft a thing within thee called Confcience,
With twenty Popish Tricks and Ceremonie
Which I have feen thee careful to obferve:
Therefore I urge thy Oath, for that I know
An Idiot holds his Bauble for a God,
And keeps the Oath, which by that God he fwears,
To that I'll urge him; therefore thou fhalt vow
By that fame God, what God fo e'er it be
That thou adoreft and haft in reverence,
To fave my Boy, nourish and bring him up,
Or elfe I will discover nought to thee.
Luc. Even by my God I fwear to thee, I will,
Aar. Firft know thou,
I begot him on thy Emperefs.
Luc. O moft infatiate luxurious Woman!
Aar. Tut, Lucius, this was but a Deed of Charity,
To that which thou fhalt hear of me anon.
'Twas her two Sons that murdered Baffianus,
They cut thy Sifter's Tongue, and Ravish'd her,
And cut her Hands off, and trimm'd her as thou faw'fti
Luc. Oh deteftable Villain !
Call'st thou that trimming?
Aar. Why fhe was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd;
And 'twas trim fport for them that had the doing of it.
Luc. Oh barbarous beaftly Villains, like thy felf!
Aar. Indeed, I was their Tutor to inftruct them,
That codding Spirit had they from their Mother,
As fure a Card, as ever won the Set;
That bloody mind I think they learn'd of me,
As true a Dog as ever fought at Head;
Well, let my Deeds be Witness of my Worth.
I train'd thy Brethren to that guileful hole,
Where the dead Corps of Baffianus lay:
I wrote the Letter that thy Father found,
And hid the Gold within the Letter mention'd,
Confederate with the Queen and her two Sons.
And what not done that thou haft caufe to rue,
Wherein I had no ftroke of Mischief in it?
I plaid the Cheater for thy Father's Hand,
And when I had it, drew my felf apart,
And almoft broke my Heart with extream Laughter.
I pried me through the Crevice of a Wall,
When for his Hand, he had his two Sons Heads,
Beheld his Tears, and laugh'd fo heartily,
That both mine Eyes were rainy like to his;
And when I told the Emprefs of this Sport,
She fwooned almoft at my pleafing Tale,
And for my Tidings, gave me twenty Kiffes.
Goth. What can't thou fay all this, and never blush ?
Aar. Ay, like a black Dog, as the faying is.
Luc. Art thou not forry for thefe hainous Deeds?
Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
Even now I curfe the Day, and yet I think
Few come within the Compafs of my Curfe,
Wherein I did not fome notorious Ill,
As kill a Man, or elfe devife his Death,
Ravish a Maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accufe fome Innocent, and forfwear my self,
Set deadly Enmity between two Friends,
Make poor. Mens Cattle break their Necks,
Set Fire on Barns and Hay-ftacks in the Night,
And bid the Owners quench them with their Tears;
Oft have I digg'd up dead Men from their Graves,
And fet them upright at their dear Friends Doors,
Even when their Sorrow almoft was forgot,
And on their Skins, as on the Bark of Trees,
Have with my Knife carved in Roman Letters,
Let not your Sorrow die, though I am Dead.
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things,
As willingly as one would kill a Fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed,
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
Luc. Bring down the Devil, for he must not die
So fweet a Death, as Hanging presently.
Aar. If there be Devils, would I were a Devil,
To live and burn in everlafting Fire,
So I might have your Company in Hell,
But to torment you with my bitter Tongue.
Luc. Sirs, ftop his Mouth, and let him fpeak no more.
Goth. My Lord, there is a Meffenger from Rome Defires to be admitted to your Presence.
Luc. Let him come near.
Welcome, Æmilius, what's the News from Rome?
Ami. Lord Lucius; and you Princes of the Goths,
The Roman Emperor greets you all by me,
And, for he understands you are in Arms,
He craves a Parley at your Father's House,
Willing you to demand your Hoftages,
And they fhall be immediately delivered.
Goth. What fays our General ?
Luc. Æmilius, let the Emperor give his Pledges
Unto my Father, and my Uncle Marcus,
And we will come : March away.
SCENE II. Titus's Palace in Rome.
Enter Tamora, Chiron and Demetrius, Difguis'd. Tam. Thus in this ftrange and fad Habiliments,
I will encounter with Andronicus,
And fay, I am Revenge fent from below,
To join with him, and right his heinous Wrongs:
Knock at the Study, where they fay he keeps,
To ruminate ftrange Plots of dire Revenge;
Tell him Revenge is come to join with him,
And work Confufion on his Enemies.
[They knock, and Titus appears above.
Tit. Who doth moleft my Contemplation?
Is it your trick to make me ope the Door,
That fo my fad Decrees may fly away,
And all my Study be to no effect?
You are deceiv'd, for what I mean to do,
See here in bloody Lines I have fet down ;
And what is written, fhall be executed.
Tam. Titus, I am come to talk with thee.
Tit. No not a word: How can I grace my Talk,
Wanting a Hand to give it Action?
Thou haft the odds of me, therefore no more.
Tam. If thou didst know me,
Thou would'ft talk with me.
Tit. I am not mad, I know thee well enough, Witness this wretched Stump,
Witnefs thefe Crimson Lines,
Witness thefe Trenches, made by Grief and Care,
Witness the tyring Day and heavy Night;
Witness all Sorrow, that I knew thee well
For our proud Empress, mighty Tamora:
Is not thy coming for my other Hand?
Tam. Know thou, fad Man, I am not Tamora,
She is thy Enemy, and I thy Friend;
I am Revenge, fent from the infernal Kingdom,
To eafe the gnawing Vulture of thy Mind,
By working wreakful Vengeance on thy Foes.
Come down and welcome me to this World's light;
Confer with me of Murder and of Death,
There's not a hollow Cave, or lurking place,
No vaft obfcurity or mifty Vale,
Where bloody Murther or detefted Rape,
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out,
And in their Ears tell them my dreadful Name,
Revenge, which makes the foul Offenders quake.
Tit. Art thou Revenge? And art thou fent to me,
To be a Torment to mine Enemies?
Tam. I am; therefore come down and welcome me.
Tit. Do me fome Service, e'er I come to thee:
Lo by thy fide, where Rape and Murder stands,
Now give fome furance that thou art Revenge,
Stab them, or tear them on thy Chariot Wheels,
|