Marc. What, what!-the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

Tit. Magne Dominator poli,

Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Marc. O, 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 Heetor's hope;
And swear with me, as with the woful feere 3,
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, an 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, 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,

4

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? - 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.
Marc. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
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

3 Husband.

The point of a spear.

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, grand

sire.

Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another

course.

Lavinia, come: Marcus, look to my house;
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court;

Ay, marry, will we, sir: and we'll be waited on.
[Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Boy.
Marc. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy;

That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Than foe-men's marks upon his batter'd shield:
But yet so just, that he will not revenge:-
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one Door; at another Door, Young Lucius, and an Attendant, with a Bundle of Weapons, and Verses writ upon them.

Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver to us.

Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus;

And pray the Roman gods, confound you both.

[Aside.

Dem. Gramercy', lovely Lucius: What's the

news?

Boy. That you are both decipher'd, that's the

news,

For villains mark'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?

Let's see?

Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus,

Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.

Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay, just! have it.

- a verse in Horace :-right, you

Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;

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 applaud Andronicus' conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.

Aside.

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?

5 i.e. Grand merci; great thanks.

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

amen.

Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand

more.

Dem. Come, let us go, and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in our pains.

us o'er.

Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given [Aside. Flourish, Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish

thus?

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

Nur.

Arms.

Good morrow, lords: O, 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? What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's

eye,

Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace;She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver❜d.

Aar. To whom?

Nur.

I mean, she's brought to bed.

Aar.

Well, Jove

Give her good rest! What hath she got?
Nur.

A devil.

Aar. Why then she's the devil's dam; a joyful

issue.

Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful

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 wretch! is black so base a
hue?-

Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
Dem. Villain, what hast thou done?

Aar.

Canst not undo.

Chi.

Done! that which thou

Thou hast undone our mother.

Dem. Woe to her chance, accurs'd her loathed

choice!

Woe to 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

point;

Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch it. Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels

up,

[Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws. Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your bro

ther?

Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,

That shone so brightly when this boy was got,

6 Spit.