For that good hand thou send'st the emperor. [Exit. Mar. Now let hot Ætna 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 him. Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Mar. 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: Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes! Tit. Ha, ha, ha! Mar. 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 watry eyes, That I may turn me to each one of you, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; [Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been! If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; 19 SCENE II. [Exit. 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 And when my heart, all mad with misery, Then thus I thump it down. Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Mar. Fye, brother, fye! 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;- How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, And, by still practice 20, learn to know thy meaning. ments: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away.— [Marcus strikes the dish with a knife., What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? Mar. 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. Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buz 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. Mar. Pardon, me, sir; 'twas a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0, |