And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow !
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, 231
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave, for losers 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

240

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.
Marc. Now let hot Etna 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 some
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! 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
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 more will I control thy griefs; 260
Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
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!

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 :
Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life:
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

O, 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 Saturnine and his empress
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit.
SCENE II. A room in Titus's house. A
banquet set out.

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;
Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus, I thump it down.

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,
How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?
O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
Lest we remember still that we have none.
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,
As if we should forget we had no hands,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands!
Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:
Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she
says;

I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;
She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her

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:
A deed of death done on the innocent
Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone;
I see thou art not for my company.
Marc. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and
mother?

60

How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz 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.

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,
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.

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
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.

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:
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Rau 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.
Mare. Lucius, I will.

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.
Mare.
For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.
Tit. Soft! see how busily she turns the
leaves !
[Helping 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.
Marc. See, brother, see; note how she
quotes the leaves.

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,
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.

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
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 fere
And father of that chaste dishonor'd dame, 90
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 hunt these bear-whelps, then be-

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
The goodliest weapons of his armory
To gratify your honorable youth,
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 armed and appointed well:
And so I leave you both: [Aside] like bloody
villains.

[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
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.

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,
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point
That touches this my first-born son and heir!
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,
With all his threatening 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!

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

100

Can never turn the 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 vigor and the picture of my youth:
This before all the world do I prefer ;
This maugre all the world will I keep safe, 110
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

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:
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.
Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all
consult.

My son and I will have the wind of you:
Keep there now talk at pleasure of your
safety.
[They sit.
Dem. How many women saw this child of
his ?

Aar. Why, so, brave lords! when we 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? 140
Nur. Cornelia the midwife and myself;
And no one else but the deliver'd 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. [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 tell them both the circumstance of all;
And how by this their child shall be ad-
vanced,

And be received for the emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calm this tempest whirling in the court; 160
And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her
physic,
[Pointing to the nurse.
And you must needs bestow her funeral;
The fields are near, and you are gallant