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This is the day of doom for Bassianus;
His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day:
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity,
And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood.
Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee
And give the king this fatal plotted scroll.-
Now question me no more; we are espied:
Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty,
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction.

Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life!
Aar. No more, great empress. Bassianus comes:
Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be.

[Exit.

Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA.
Bas. Whom have we here? Rome's royal em-
Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? [press,
Or is it Dian, habited like her;
Who hath abandoned her holy groves,
To see the general hunting in this forest?

Tam. Saucy controller of 6 my private steps!
Had I the power, that, some say, Dian had,"
Thy temples should be planted presently
With horns, as was Acteon's; and the hounds
Should dine upon thy new-transformed limbs,
Unmannerly intruder as thou art!

Lav. Under your patience, gentle empress,
'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning;

Aar. He, that had wit, would think that I had none, And to be doubted, that your Moor and you

To bury so much gold under a tree,

And never after to inherit it.

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Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad,
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chaunt melody on every bush;
The snake lies coiled in the cheerful sun;
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a checquer'd shadow on the ground.
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise:
And-after conflict, such as was suppos'd
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,—
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
While hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds,
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song

Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.

Are singled forth to try experiments.

Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day!
'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag.

Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian
Doth make your honor of his body's hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable.
Why are you sequester'd from all your train,
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed,
And wander'd hither to an obscure plot,
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor,
If foul desire had not conducted you?

Lav. And being intercepted in your sport,
Great reason that my noble lord be rated
For sauciness!-I pray you, let us hence,
And let her 'joy her raven-colored love:
This valley fits the purpose passing well.

Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of this.
Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long,
Good king! to be so mightily abus'd.

Tam. Why have I patience to endure all this?
Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON.

Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious

mother!

Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
Tam. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale
These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place,
A barren detested vale, you see, it is:
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe.
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,

Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.
Saturn is dominator over mine.
What signifies my deadly-standing eye,
My silence, and my cloudy melancholy?
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls,
Even as an adder, when she doth unrol
To do some fatal execution?

No, madam, these are no venereal signs:
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul,
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,

• Possess. Disquiet.

And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries,
As any mortal barely hearing it,

Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
No sooner had they told this hellish tale,
But straight they told me, they would bind me here
Unto the body of a dismal yew,
And leave me to this miserable death:

•Part.- Dusky.-• Hedgehogs,

And then they call'd me, foul adulteress,
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms
That ever ear did hear to such effect;
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,
This vengeance on me had they executed.
Revenge it, as you love your mother's life,
Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children.
Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son.
[Stabs BASSIANUS.
Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my
strength.
[Stabbing him likewise.
Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis !-nay, barbarous Ta-
For no name fits thy nature but thy own. [mora;
Tam. Give me thy poniard: you shall know, my
boys,

Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong.
Dem. Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her:
First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw.
This minion stood upon her chastity,
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,

And with that painted shape she braves your might:
And shall she carry this unto her grave?

Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.

Tam. But when ye have the honey ye desire, Let not this wasp outlive us both to sting. [sure.Chi. I warrant you, madam, we will make that Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy That nice preserved honesty of yours.

Lav. O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,Tam. I will not hear her speak: away with her! Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. Dem. Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory To see her tears; but be your heart to them, As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.

[dam? Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the O! do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee. The milk, thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble; Even at her teat thou hadst thy tyranny. Yet every mother breeds not sens alike: Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.

[TO CHIRON. Chi. What! wouldst thou have me prove myself a

bastard?

Lav. 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark: Yet have I heard, O, could I find it now! The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure To have his princely 3 claws par'd all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: O! be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful.

Tam. I know not what it means. Away with her! Lav. O! let me teach thee: for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain Be not obdurate. Open thy deaf ears.

[thee,

Tam. Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless.Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent. Therefore, away, and use her as you will: The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Lav. O Tamora! be call'd a gentle queen, [Kneeling. And with thine own hands kill me in this place; For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long: Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. [me go. Tam. What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more, That womanhood denies my tongue to tell. O! keep me from their worse than killing lust,

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SCENE IV.-The Same.

Enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS. Aar. Come on, my lords, the better foot before: Straight will I bring you to the lonesome pit, Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. Mart. And mine, I promise you: wer't not for shame,

Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.

[MARTIUS falls into the Pit. Quin. What! art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this,

Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood,
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.-
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mart. [Under the stage.] O, brother! with the
dismall'st object hurt,

That ever eye with sight made heart lament.
Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find
them here;

That he thereby may give a likely guess,
How these were they that made away his brother.
[Exit AARON.
Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole?
Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear;
A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.

Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise.
O! tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.
Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.

Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. O brother! help me with thy fainting hand,

· • Strumpet.

If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,-
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.
Quin. Thy hand once more: I will not loose again,
Till thou art here aloft, or I below.-
Thou canst not come to me; I come to thee.

Enter SATURNINUS and AARON.

[Falls in.

For by my father's reverend tomb I vow, They shall be ready at your highness' will, To answer this suspicion with their lives.

Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see, thou follow me. Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: Let them not speak a word, their guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed.

Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king: Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE V.-The Same.

Sat. Along with me:-I'll see what hole is here, Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA, Tab And what he is that now is leap'd into it.

Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend

Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus,
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

Sat. My brother dead! I know, thou dost but jest:
He and his lady both are at the lodge,
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;
'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Mart. We know not where you left him all alive, But, out alas! here have we found him dead. Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and LUCIUS.

Tam. Where is my lord, the king? [grief. Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus ?

Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound:

Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

a

Tam. Then, all too late I bring this fatal writ, [Giving a Letter. The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. Sat. [Reads.]" An if we miss to meet him handsomely,

Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean,-
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him.
Thou know'st our meaning: look for thy reward
Among the nettles at the elder tree,
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit,
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends."
O, Tamora! was ever heard the like?
This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out,
That should have murder'd Bassianus here.
Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
[Showing it.
Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tirus.] fell curs
of bloody kind,

Have here bereft my brother of his life.-
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:
There let them bide, until we have devis'd
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
Tam. What are they in this pit? O wondrous
How easily murder is discovered.'"
[thing!

Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee
I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed;
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,
Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,

Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.-
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.
Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail;

. Untimely.

ished; her Hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas cut out thy tongue, and ravish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.

[hands.

Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the card. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON.

b

4 Wind Horns. Enter MARCUS, from hunting.
Cousin, a word: where is your husband?—
Mar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so fast?
If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me!
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!-
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Of her two branches; those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
And might not gain so great a happiness,
As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me-
Alas! a crimson river of warm blood,

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy roseate lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath defloured thee,
And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue.
Ah! now thou turn'st away thy face for shame;
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,-
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,-
Yet do thy cheeks look red, as Titan's face
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, 'tis so?
O! that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
That I might rail at him to ease my mind.

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind;
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee:
A craftier 'Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
O! had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch'd them for his life;
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made in minstrelsy,
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,

"Would all my wealth," i, e., would that the giving of all my wealth.

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Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the Place of Execution; TITUS going before, pleading.

Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; 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 honor's lofty bed: For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write [ Throwing himself on the ground. My heart's deep anguish in my soul's sad tears. Let my tears stanch 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 with more 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 sons' 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, They would not mark me; 3 or if they did mark, They would not pity me, yet plead I must, And bootless unto them.

[Rising.

Therefore, I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they are 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;
A stone is silent, and offendeth not,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn?
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death;

The Thracian poet is Orpheus.

For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom 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 art thou, then, From these devourers to be banished? But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter MARCUS and LIVINIA.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it, then. Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.

Luc. Ah me! this object kills me.

Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.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 Rome, and all in vain, 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 hands, For hands to do Rome service are but vain.

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? Mar. O! 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 6 Rich varied notes, enchanting old and young. Luc. O! say thou for her, who hath done this deed? Mar. O! thus I found her straying 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 her 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 british 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; But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me; what shall I do Now I behold thy living body so?

8

Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: Thy husband he is dead; and for his death, Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. Look, Marcus; ah! son Lucius, look on her: 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.

[husband;

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;

The river Nile.- Irremediable.

Mar. But I will use it.

Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.-
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips,

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease.
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain,
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd, 1as 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 hands, 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,
Plot some device of farther misery,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come. [grief,
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your
See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
Mar. Patience, dear niece.-Good Titus, dry

thine eyes.

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 own. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia! I will wipe thy cheeks. Til. Mark, Marcus, 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. O! what a sympathy of woe is this; As far from help as limbo is from bliss.

Enter AARON.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word,-that, if thou love thy sons, 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 my hand to him.
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

Luc. Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine,
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 brothers' lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended
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.

[Rome,

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 son, 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.

Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand. Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

Know. The "limbo" (Limbus patrum) of the schoolmen was supposed to be in the neighborhood of hell.

[Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS. Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both: Lend me thy 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,
And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass.

5

4 [Aside

[He cuts off TITUS's Hand, with his Sword. 6 Re-enter LUCIUS with an Axe, and MARCUS. Tit. Now, stay your strife: what shall be, is de spatch'd.

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a hand 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
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;

Aar. I go, Andronicus; and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.-
[Aside.] Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villainy
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Ezit.
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,

Tit. O! here I lift this one hand up to heaven, 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

prayers,

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 bottom!
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?

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,
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.

Sky.-d Stir; bustle.

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