And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ? Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand. Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid 240 For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. 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! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! [Lavinia kisses Titus. Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake. Tit. 251 When will this fearful slumber have an end? Marc. Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: see,thy two sons'heads The closing up of our most wretched eyes; Marc. Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour. Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes, 269 And make them blind with tributary tears: Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, And threat me I shall never come to bliss Till all these mischiefs be return'd again Even in their throats that have committed them. The wofull'st man that ever lived in Rome : O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young LUCIUS, a Boy. Tit. So so; now sit: and look you eat no more 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 tyrannize upon my breast; 10 [To Lavinia.] Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! 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. 20 Marc. 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 hands; 30 To bid Eneas tell the tale twice o'er, I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; cheeks: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Mare. Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved, Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, 50 And tears will quickly melt thy life away. [Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? Marc. 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: 60 How would he hang his slender gilded wings, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was a black illfavor'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, 70 Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS. Young Luc. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Young Luc. Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. Marc. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? Tit. Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean : See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee. 10 Somewhither would she have thee go with her Marc. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ? Young Luc. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, 20 Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt: And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was; Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. 40 Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so ? Young Luc. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; My mother gave it me. 50 Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt0. had we never, never hunted there!Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature inade for murders and for rapes. Marc. O, why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies ? 60 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? Mare. Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 70 [He writes his name wth his staff, and guides it with 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 discover'd for revenge: Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, There is enough written upon this earth And swear with me, as, with the woful fere SCENE II. The same. A room in the palace. Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON; from the other side, young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us. Aur. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. Young Luc. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honors from Andronicus. [Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound you both! Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news? Young Luc. [Aside] That you are both decipher'd that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape.-May it please you, 11 My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me [Exeunt young Lucius and Attendant. Dem. What's here? A scroll: and written round about? Let's see: [Reads] Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus, 20 Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.' Chi. O, 'tis 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. [Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt; [with lines, And sends them weapons wrapped about Juu. Deyond their feeling, to the quick. at were our witty empress well afoot, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: 30 But let her rest in her unrest awhile. And now, young lords, was't not a happy star 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. Good morrow, lords: O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at 91 Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, 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! Coal-black is better than another hue, 100 Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ? Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this myself, The vigor and the picture of my youth: Dem. By this our mother is forever 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 ignomy. 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, 120 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 imprison'd were He is enfranchised and come to light : Nay, he is 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, 130 And we will all subscribe to thy advice: My son and I will have the wind of you: Aar. Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league, I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, 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. [He kills the nurse. Weke, weke ! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this ? Aar. O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: 150 And now be it known to you my full intent. Not far, one Muli 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 be received for the emperor's heir, |