And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought!
For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed:
For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
[Throwing himself on the Ground.
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears.
Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite:
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and
blush.
[Exeunt SENATORS, TRIBUNES, &c.
with the Prisoners.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers :
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still:
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sous' blood.
Enter LUCIUS, with his Sword drawn.
O reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.
Luc. O noble father, you lament in vain ;
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Tit. Ah! Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead:
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you.
Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you
speak.
Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did
hear,
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life,
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have serv'd me to effectless use:
Now, all the service I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.--
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hauds;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd
thee?
Mar. Oh! that delightful engine of her
thoughts,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage:
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Luc. Oh! say thou for her, who hath done this
deed?
Mar. Oh! thus I found her, staying in the
park,
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.
Tit. It was my deer; and he that wounded
ber,
Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead :
For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
Here stands my other son a banish'd man!
And here, my brother, weeping at my woes;
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.-
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
It would have madded me; What shall I do
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
They would not mark me; or if they did mark,Now I behold thy lively body so?
All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale :
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than
stones:
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue to tell me who has martyr'd thee:
Thy husband he is dead: and, for his death,
Look, Marcus! ah! son Lucius, look on her!
Thy brothers are condemn'd and dead by this :-
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
A stone is silent, and offendeth not:
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their
death:
For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd
My everlasting doon of banishment.
Tit. O happy man, they have befriended thee.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive,
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?
Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey,
But me and mine: How happy are thou then,
From these devourers to be banished!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA.
Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband:
Perchance, because she knows them innocent.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joy
ful,
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.--
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain;
Looking all downwards, to hehold our cheeks
How they are stain'd; like meadows, yet not
dry
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our bands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb
shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. Plot some device of further misery,
Mar. This was thy daughter.
Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.
Luc. Ah! me, this object kills me!
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at
your grief,
Tit. Faint hearted boy, arise, and look upon See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea,
Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st,
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds,
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Roine, and all in vain ;
Mar. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry
Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I
wot, *
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine
Luc. Ah! my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
Tit. Mark, Marqus. mark! I understand her
signs:
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother which I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
Oh! what a sympathy of woe is this?
As far from help as limbo is from bliss!
Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word,-That, if thou love thy
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
And send it to the king: he for the same,
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive :
And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
Tit. O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ?
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor
My hand:
Tit. Oh! here I lift this one hand up to hea ven,
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
If any power pities wretched tears,
To that I call:-What, wilt thou kneel with me?
[TO LAVINIA.
Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our
Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds,
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
Mar. O brother, speak with possibilities.
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Tit. Is not my sorrow deep having no bot.
tom?
Then be my passions bottomless with them.
Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament.
Tit. If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes :
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth
o'erflow ?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ? +
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you ;
And therefore mine shall save my brother's
lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended
Rome,
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
O none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
To ransom my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go
along,
For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand shall go.
Luc. By heaven it shall not go.
Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs
as these
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy
Let me redeem my brothers both from death. Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's care,
Now let me show a brother's love to thee.
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,
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
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
Mar. 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!
Tit. Agree between you: I will spare my That ever death should let life bear his name, hand.
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.
Mar. But I will use the axe.
[Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS. Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both : Lend me thine hand, and I will give thee mine. Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so :But I'll deceive you in another sort, [Aside. And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [He cuts off TITUS' Hand.
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, Androni.
Thou dost not slumber see, thy two son's 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 inore will I control thy griefs :
Enter LUCIUS and MARCUS.
Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is Rent off thy silver hair, thy other band
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a band that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:-
Their heads, I mean.-Oh! how this villany
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
[Exit.
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!
Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with
Fill all these mischiefs be return'd again,
Even in their throats that have committed
them.
Come, let me see 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 soul 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 employed in these things;
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy
teeth.
As for thee, boy, go, got thee from my sight;
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:
And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
[Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA. Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome! Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
Oh! 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 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.
SCENE II-A Room in TITUS' House.A Banquet set out.
Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young LUCIUS, a boy.
Tit. So, so; now sit and look, you eat no
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 tyrannise upon my breast;
And when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.—
Thou map of woe that thus dost talk in signs!
[TO LAVINIA.
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.
Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.
Tit. How now! bas 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
To bid Æneas 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 frantickly I square my talk!
As if we should forget we had no hands,
I 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
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs ;-
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her
cheeks: -
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought ;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to
heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,
And, by still practice, learn to know thy mean..
ing.
Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Mar. Alas! the tender boy, in passion mov❜d,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
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, doue 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. Oh! oh! oh!
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 do 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.
Mar. Alas! poor man! grief has so wrought
He takes false shadows for true substances.
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 begins to dazzle. [Exeunt
SCENE 1.-The same.-Before TITUS'
Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Then enter young
LUCIUS, LAVINIA running after him.
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.
Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did.
Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
• Constant practice. This was formerly not a disrespectful expression.
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :-Somewhat doth | What God will have discover'd for revenge :
See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee:
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. *
Caust thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless some it or frenzy do possess her:
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make mea mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran 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 willinigy attend your ladyship.
Mar. Lucius, I will.
[LAVINIA turns over the books which
LUCIUS has let jail.
Tit. How now, Lavinia ?-Marcus, what means this?
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?
Mar. I think she means, that there was more
Confederate in the fact :-Ay, more there was :Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis; My mother gave't me.
Mar. 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 ! 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.
Mar. See, brother, see! note, how she quotes the leaves.
Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl,
Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see!
Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, (Oh! had we never, never, hunted there !) Pattern'd by that the poet here describes. By nature made for murders and for rapes. Mar. Oh! 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?
Mar. 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.
He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with his feet and mouth. Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift !— Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last,
Tully's Treatise on Eloquence entitled Orator.
Succession.
1 Observes.
Pitiless.
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. Oh! do you read, my lord, what she hath Stuprum-Chiron-Demetrius. [writ ? Mar. What, what 1-the lustful sons of Ta
Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
Tit. Magne Dominator poli,
Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Mar. Oh! 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;
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope :
And swear with me,-as with the woeful feere,
And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
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, and you knew how,
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware:
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.
You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad + of steel will write these words,
And lay it by the angry northern wind
Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad,
And where's your lesson then 1-Boy, what say
you?
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath
For this ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury;
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons
Presents, that I intend to send them both :
Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou
not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.
Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another
I greet your honours from Andronicus ;-
And pray the Roman gods, confound you both.
[Aside.
Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: What's the
Boy. That you are both decipher'd that's the news,
For villains inark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it please you,
My grandsire, well-advis'd, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable 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 Boy and Attendant. Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written round about?
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And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well-a-foot,
She would appland Audronicus' conceit.
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
Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman
dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say
Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand
Dem. Come, let us go; and pray to all the For our beloved mother in her pains. [gods Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us o'er. [Aside. Flourish. Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish
Chi. Belike for joy the emperor hath a son.
Dem. Soft; who comes here?
Enter a NURSE, with a black-a-moor Child in her arms.
Nur. Good morrow, lords:
Oh! tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor.
Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron now?
Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! Now help or woe betide thee evermore! Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!
Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowfu. issue:
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's
point.
Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a hue ?
Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
Dem. Villam, what hast thou done?
Aar. Done! that which thou
Chi. Thou hast undone our mother.
Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother.
Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast
undone.
Woe to her chance, and damu'd her loathed choice!
Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend!
Chi. It shall not live.
Aar. It shall not die.
Nur. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I,
Do execution on my flesh and blood.
Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's [it. Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.
[Takes the Child from the NURSE and draws.
Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother?
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 threat'ning 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-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted
Coal black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean
Can never turn a 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 my-
Fie, treacherous hue! that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counsels of the heart! Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer: ¶ Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father;
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own. Nur. Oh! that which I would hide from hea-He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed
[grace ;-
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's dis-
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd.
Aur. To whom?
Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed.
Aur. Well, God
Give her good rest! What hath he sent her?
Nur. A devil.
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's your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?
Aar. Why then she's the devil's dam; a joy Hercules. ful issue.
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