Mar. Now, farewel, flattery! die, Andronicus;
Thou doft not flumber; fee, thy two fons heads,
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here;
Thy other banish'd fon with this dear fight
Struck pale and bloodlefs; and thy brother I,
Even like a ftony image, cold and numb.
Ah, now no more will I controul thy griefs; (18)
Rend off thy filver hair, thy other hand

Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this difmal fight
The closing up
moft wretched eyes;

of

your

Now is a time to form, why art thou fill ?

Tit. Ha, ha, ha.

Mar. Why doft thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed;
Befides, this forrow is an enemy,

And would ufurp upon my watry eyes,
And make them blind with tributary tears;
Then which way fhall I find revenge's cave?
For thefe two heads do feem to fpeak to me,
And threat me, I fhall never come to blifs,
'Till all these mischiefs be return'd again,
Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me fee, what task I have to do-
You heavy people, circle me about;
That I may turn me to each one of you,
And swear unto my foul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made;-come, brother, take a head,
And in this hand the other will I bear;

Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in these things;
Bear thou my hand, fweet wench, between thy teeth;
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my fight,
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay.

Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there;
you do,

And if you love me, as I think

Let's kifs and part, for we have much to do. [Exeunt.

(18) Ab, now no more will I controul my griefs;] I read, - thy griefs. Marcus had before perfuaded Titus to be temperate and reftrain the excess of his forrows: but now, fays be, that fo miferable an object is prefented to your fight as a dear daughter so heinously abus'd, e'en indulge your forrows till they put an end to your miferable life.

Manet Lucius.

Luc. Farewel, Andronicus, my noble father,
The woeful'ft man that ever liv'd in Rome;
Farewel, proud Rome; 'till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life;
Farewel, Lavinia, my noble fifter,

O, would thou wert as thou tofore haft 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 Saturninus and his Empress
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his Queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

[Exit Lucius. SCENE, an Apartment in Titus's House. A Banquet.

Tit. ST

Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young Lucius, a Boy.
Tit. O, fo, now fit; and look, you eat no more
Than will preferve just so much strength in us,
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus, unknit that forrow-wreathen knot;

Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
And cannot paffionate our ten-fold grief

With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;

And when my heart, all mad with mifery,
Beats in this hollow prifon of my flesh,

Then thus I thump it down.

Thou map of woe, that thus doft talk in figns!

When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
Thou canst not ftrike it thus to make it ftill;
Wound it with fighing, girl, kill it with groans;
Or get fome 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 fink, and foaking in,

Drown

Drown the lamenting fool in fea-falt tears.

Mar. Fie, brother, fie, teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has forrow made thee doat already? Why, Marcus, no man fhould be mad but I;

What violent hands can fhe lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore doft thou urge the name of hands,-
To bid Eneas tell the tale twice o'er,

How Troy was burnt, and he made miferable?
O, handle not the theam; no talk of hands,-
Left we remember ftill, that we have none.
Fie, fie, how frantickly I fquare 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 figns;

She fays, the drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her forrows, mefh'd upon her cheeks.
Speechlefs complaint!-O, I will learn thy thought,
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,

As begging hermits in their holy prayers.

Thou shalt not figh, nor hold thy ftumps to heav'n,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a fign,
But I, of thefe, will wreft an alphabet,

And by ftill practice learn to know thy meaning.
Boy. Good grandfire, leave thefe bitter deep laments;
Make my aunt merry with fome pleafing tale.
Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in paffion mov'd,
Doth weep to fee his grandfire's heaviness.

Tit. Peace, tender fapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away.

[Marcus ftrikes the dish with a knife. What doft thou ftrike at, Marcus, with thy knife? Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my Lord, a fly. Tit. Out on thee, murderer; thou kill'ft 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
I fee, thou art not for my company.

L. 4

gone,

Mar.

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 flender gilded wings, And buz lamenting dolings in the air? (19) Poor harmless fly,

That with his pretty buzzing melody,

Came here to make us merry ;

And thou haft kill'd him.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir, it was a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the Emprefs' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

For thou haft done a charitable deed;
Give me thy knife, I will infult on him,
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor
Come hither purpofely to poifon me.
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora:
Yet ftill, I think, we are not brought so low,
But that between us we can kill a fly,

That comes in likeness of a cole-black Moor.

Mar. Alas, poor man, grief has fo wrought on him,

He takes falfe fhadows for true fubftances.
Come, take away; Lavinia, go with me;
I'll to thy clofet, and go read with thee
Sad ftories, chanced in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me; thy fight is young,
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle.
[Exeunt.

(19) And buz lamenting doings in the air.] Lamenting doings is a very idle expreffion, and conveys no idea. The alteration, which I have made, tho' it is but the addition of a fingle letter, is a great encrease to the fenfe: and tho', indeed, there is fomewhat of a tau tology in the epithet and fubftantive annext to it, yet that's no new thing with our author. I remember one of the very fame kind in his Locrine;

And gnash your teeth with dolorous laments,

ACT

SCENE, Titus's Houfe.

Enter young Lucius, and Lavinia running after him; and the boy flies from her, with his books under his arm. Enter Titus, and Marcus.

BOY.

Help, grandfire, help; my aunt Lavinia

Follows me every where, I know not why. Good uncle Marcus, fee, how fwift fhe comes : Alas, fweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Mar. Stand by me, Lucius, do not fear thy aunt. Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, fhe did. Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by thefe figns? Tit. Fear thou not, Lucius, fomewhat doth fhe mean: See, Lucius, fee, how much she makes of thee: Some whither would he have thee go with her. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her fons, than fhe hath read to thee, Sweet poetry, and Tully's oratory:

Can't thou not guefs wherefore fhe plies thee thus ?
Boy. My Lord, I know not I, nor can I guess,
Unless fome fit or frenzy do poffefs her:

For I have heard my grandfire fay full oft,
Extremity of grief would make men mad.
And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy

Ran mad through forrow; 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,
Caufelefs, perhaps; but pardon me, fweet aunt;
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

I will moft willingly attend your Ladyship.

Mar.