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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 hand
somely, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean, Do thou 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. 0, 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 Tit.) 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
thing! How easily murder is discovered !
Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of
accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,
Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.
Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.
For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see, thou follow
Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur
derers: Let them not speak a word, the 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.
( E.xeunt severally,
Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINJA,
ravished; her Hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can
speak, Who’t was that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee.
Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning
And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can
scowl. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy
hands. 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 cord.
[Excunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON.
Marc. Who's this, - my niece, that flies away 80
fast ? Cousin, a word ; Where is
hushand ? If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake
me ! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, 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 And might not gain so great a happiness, As half 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 rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath defour'd 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, That I might rail at him to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed like an oven stopp'd, 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 hast thou met withal,
ACT THE THIRD.
Rome. A Street.
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, For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ;
[Throwing himself on the Ground.
[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with the
Enter LUCIUS, with his Sword drawn.
Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain ;
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; or, if they did mark,