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.
Ah, sirrah!

Yet, I 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.

70

Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,

He takes false shadows for true substances. 80 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 begin to dazzle. [Exeunt.

Enter young Lucius and Lavinia running after him, and the boy flies from her, with his books under his arm. Then enter Titus and Marcus. Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why: Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Marc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Boy. Aye, 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.

9. "Fear her not"; so Qq.; Ff. read "Feare not"; Rowe, "Fear thou not."-I. G.

13. "her sons"; Tiberius and Caius Gracchus.-C. H. H.

Marc. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies

thee thus?

20

Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
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
Ran mad for 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. Marc. Lucius, I will. [Lavinia turns over with her stumps the books which Lucius has let

fall.

Tit. How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means

this?

30

Some book there is that she desires to see. Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd: Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? Marc. I think she means that there were more than

one

Confederate in the fact; aye, more there was; 39
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses:
My mother gave it me.

Marc.

For love of her that 's

gone,

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. Tit. Soft! so busily she turns the leaves! Help 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!

Aye, such a place there is, where we did hunt,— O, had we never, never hunted there!Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,

60

By nature made for murders and for rapes.
Marc. O, why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
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?

45. "Soft! so busily"; Qq., Ff., reads "Soft, so busily"; Rowe, "Soft! see how busily"; Capell, "Soft, soft; how busily"; Knight, "Soft! how busily"; Keightley, "Soft, soft! so busily"; Collier MS., "Soft! see how busily."-I. G.

48. "treason"; treachery.-C. H. H.

Marc. 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. [He writes his name with his
staff, and guides it with feet and mouth.]
I have writ my name

Without the help of any hand at all.

70

Cursed be the heart that forced us to this shift!
Write thou, good niece; and here display at last
What God will have discovered for revenge:
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows
plain,

That we may know the traitors and the truth! [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes. Tit. O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.'

Marc. What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora

Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

Tit. Magni Dominator poli,

80

Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? Marc. O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know 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;

81-82. "Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?"; i. e. Great ruler of the skies, dost thou so tardily hear and see crimes committed? (Seneca's Hippolytus, ii. 671); Theobald, "Magne Dominator"; Hanmer, "Magne Regnator."-I. G.