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That he thereby may have a likely guefs,
How these were they, that made away his brother.
[Exit Aaron.

Mar. Why doft not comfort me and help me


Tam. Where is thy brother Baffianus ?
Sat. Now to the bottom doft thou fearch my
Poor Baffianus here lies murdered. . [wound;
Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
5 The complot of this timeless tragedy:
And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
[She giveth Saturninus a letter.
Saturninus reads the letter.

From this unhallow'd and blood-ftained hole?
Quin. I am furprized with an uncouth fear :
A chilling fweat o'er-runs my trembling joints;
Mine heart fufpects more than mine eye can see.
Mar. To prove thou haft a true-divining heart,|10|
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And fee a fearful fight of blood and death.
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compaffionate

Will not permit my eyes once to behold
The thing, whereat it trembles by furmise;
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er 'till now
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.

Mar. Lord Baffianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detefted, dark, blood-drinking pit.
Quin. If it be dark, how doft thou know 'tis he?
Mar. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in fome monument,
Doth fhine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
And shews the ragged entrails of this 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,-
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus' mifty mouth.


Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee
Or, wanting strength to do thee fo much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb

Of this deep pit, poor Baffianus' grave.

I have no ftrength to pluck thee to the brink. Mar. And I no ftrength to climb without thy help.


"An if we mifs to meet him handsomely,-
"Sweet huntsman-Baffianus 'tis, we mean,➡
"Do thou so much as dig the grave for him;
"Thou know'ft our meaning: Look for thy

"Among the nettles at the elder tree,
"Which over-fhades the mouth of that same pit,
"Where we decreed to bury Baffianus.
"Do this, and purchase us thy lafting friends."
O Tamora! was ever heard the like?
20 This is the pit, and this the elder tree:
Look, firs, if you can find the huntsman out,
That should have murder'd Baffianus here.
Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
Showing it.
Sat. Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody


Have here bereft my brother of his life :

[To Titus.

Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; 30 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 wond'rous thing!


[again, 40 Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not lofe 'Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.

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Mar. We know not where you left him all
But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamera, with Attendants; Andronicus, and

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

How eafily murder is discovered?

Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,
That this fell fault of mine accurfed fons,
Accurfed, if the fault be prov'd in them-

Sat. If it be prov'd! you fee, 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:
For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,
They fhall be ready at your highness' will,
45 To answer their fufpicion with their lives.

Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: fee, thou fol

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Ah, now thou turn'ft away thy face for shame!
And, notwithstanding all this lofs of blood,-
As from a conduit with their iffuing spouts,➡
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,
5 Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.
Shall I fpeak for thee; fhall I fay, 'tis fo?
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 fampler few'd her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus haft thou met withal,

And fo let's leave her to her filent walks. [felf. Chi. An 'twere my cafe, I should go hang my-10 Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. Enter Marcus to Lavinia. Mar. Who's this, my niece, that flies away fo faft?

Coufin, a word; Where is your husband?

If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me!

If I do wake, fome planet strike me down,
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!—
Speak, gentle niece, what ftern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Of her two branches; those sweet ornaments,
Whofe circling fhadows kings have fought to sleep
And might not gain so great a happiness,
As half thy love? Why doft not speak to me?-
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,

15 And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,

That better could have few'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster feen thofe lily hands
Tremble, like afpen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the filken ftrings delight to kifs them;
20 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; 25

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rife and fall between thy rofed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, fure, fome Tereus hath deflower'd thee;
And, left thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue.

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
For fuch a fight will blind a father's eye:
One hour's ftorm will drown the fragrant meads:
What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee:
300, could our mourning ease thy mifery!


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For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you fecurely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
For all the frofty nights that I have watch'd;
And for these bitter tears, which you now fee
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned fons,
Whofe fouls are not corrupted as 'tis thought!
For two and twenty fons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed.
[Andronicus lieth down, and the Judges pafs by bim. 60
For thefe, thefe tribunes, in the duft I write
My heart's deep languor, and my foul's fad tears.
Let my tears flanch the earth's dry appetite;
My fons' fweet blood will make it shame and blush.]

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O earth! I will befriend thee more with rain,
That fhall diftil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In fummer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter with warm tears I'll melt the fnow,
And keep eternal fpring-time on thy face,
So thou refufe to drink my dear fons' blood.
Enter Lucius, with bis fword drawn.
O reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Unbind my fons, reverfe the doom of death;"
And let me fay, 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 forrows 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


Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, All bootless unto them, they would not pity me.


Therefore I tell my forrows to the ftones;
Who, though they cannot answer my diftress,
Yet in fome fort 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 feem to weep with me ;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

A ftone is foft as wax, tribunes more hard than ftones:

A ftone is filent, and offendeth not;

And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore ftand'ft thouwith thy weapondrawn?

Luc. Torefcue my two brothers from their death: For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment.

Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, doft thou not perceive, That Rome is but a wilderness of tygers? Tygers 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 Lavinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep;
Or, if not fo, thy nobis heart to break;
I bring confuming forrow to thine age.

Tit. Will it confume me? let me see it then.
Mar. This was thy daughter.
Tit. Why, Marcus, fo the is.

Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!


Here ftands my other fon, a banish'd man ;
And here my brother, weeping at my woes:
But that, which gives my foul the greateft fpurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my foul.-

5 Had I but feen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me; What shall I do,
Now I behold thy lovely body fo?

Thou haft no hands, to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
Ic Thy hufband he is dead; and, for his death,
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:--
Look, Marcus! ah, fon Lucius, look on her!
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
15 Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Mar. Perchance, the weeps because they kill'd her husband:

Perchance, because the knows them innocent. Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, 20 Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.No, no, they would not do fo foul a deed; Witness the forrow that their fifter makes.Gentle Lavinia, let me kifs thy lips;

Or make fome figns how I may do thee ease. 25 Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, fit round about fome fountain; Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks How they are ftain'd; like meadows yet not dry With miry flime left on them by a flood?

3c And in the fountain fhall we gaze fo long,

Till the fresh tafte be taken from that clearness, And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Or fhall we cut away our hands, like thine? Or fhall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows 35 Pafs the remainder of our hateful days? What fhall we do? Let us, that have our tongues, Plot fome device of further mifery,

Tit. Faint-hearted boy,arife,and look upon her :--
Speak, my Lavinia, what accurfed hand
Hath made thee handlefs in thy father's fight?
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'ft,
And now, like Nilus, it difdaineth bounds.-
Give me a fword, I'll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; |40|
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life;.
In bootle's prayer have they been held up,
And they have ferv'd me to effectless use:
Now, all the fervice I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.-
"Tis well, Lavinia, that thou haft no hands;
For hands, to do Rome fervice, are but vain.
Luc. Speak, gentle fifter, who hath martyr'd thee?
Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blab'd them with fuch pleafing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage;
Where like a fweet melodious bird it fung
Sweet vary'd notes, enchanting every ear!

To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Luc. Sweet father, ceafe your tears; for, at

your grief,

See, how my wretched fifter fobs and weeps. Mar. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry thine eyes.

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot, 45 Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, haft drown'd it with thine own. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy checks. Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her


so Had fhe a tongue to fpeak, now she would fay
That to her brother which I faid to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no fervice on her forrowful cheeks.
O, what a fympathy of woe is this!
As far from help as limbo is from blifs.
Enter Aaron.

Luc. O, fay thou for her, who hath done this deed?
Mar. O, thus I found her, ftraying in the park, 55
Seeking to hide herfelf; as doth the deer,
That hath receiv'd fome 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 ftand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of fea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when fome envious furge
Will in his brinith bowels fallow him.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
Sends thee this word,-That if thou love thy fore,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyfelf, old Titus,
6c Or any one of you, chop off your hand,

And fend it to the king: he for the fame,
Will fend thee hither both thy fons alive;
And that fhall be the ranform for their fault.

Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentie Aaron!

This way to death my wretched sons are gone; 65 Did ever raven fing fo like a lark,


That gives sweet tidings of the fun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll fend the emperor my hand;
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,
That hath thrown down fo many enemies,
Shall not be fent: my hand will ferve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine fhall fave my brothers' lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-ax,
Writing deftruction on the enemies' castle?
0, none of both but are of high defert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it ferve
To ranfom my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, come, agree, whofe hand fhall go
For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand shall go.

Lac. By heaven, it shall not go.


And do not break into these deep extremes.
Tit. Is not my forrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my paffions bottomless with them.
Mar. But yet let reafon govern thy lament.
Tit. If there were reason for thefe miferies,
Then into limits could I bind my woes :
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth

If the winds rage, doth not the fea wax mad,
[Rome, 10 Threat'ning the welkin with his big-fwoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the fea; hark, how her fighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then muft my fea be moved with her fighs;
[along, 15 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 muft I vomit them.
Then give me leave; for lofers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Enter a Mejenger, bringing in two beads and a band.
Me: Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repay'd
For that good hand, thou fent'ft the emperor.
Here are the heads of thy two noble fons;
25 And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee fent back;
Thy griefs their sports, thy refolution mock'd:
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,
More than remembrance of my father's death.


Tit. Sirs, ftrive no more; fuch wither'd herbs as 20 Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

Luc. Sweet father, if I fhall be thought thy fon, Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

Mar. And, for our father's fake,and mother's care,
Now let me fhew a brother's love to thee.

Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my 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; 30
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
And never, whilft I live, deceive men fo :-
But I'll deceive you in another fort,

And that you'll fay, ere half an hour pafs. [Afide. 35
[He cuts off Titus's band.

Enter Lucius and Marcus again.

Tit. Now, ftay your ftrife; what shall be, is

Good Aaron, give his majefty 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 fons, fay, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an eafy 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 fons with thee:--
Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villainy [Afide.
Doth fat me with the very thought of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his foul black like his face. [Exit.
Tit. O hear!-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 fhall hear our


Or with our fighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
And ftain the fun with fog, as fometime clouds,
When they do hug him in their melting bofoms.
Mar. O brother, fpeak with poffibilities,



Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
Thefe miferies are more than may be borne!
To weep with the n that weep doth ease some deal,
But forrow flouted at is double death. [wound,

Luc. Ah, that this fight fhould make fo deep a
And yet detefted life not shrink thereat!
That ever death fhould let life bear his name,
Where life hath no more intereft but to breathe!
[Lavinia kiffes bim.
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kifs is comfortlets,
As frozen water to a starved snake.

Tit. When will this fearful flumber have an
Mar. Now, farewel, flattery: Die, Andronicus;
Thou doft not flumber : fee, thy two fons' heads;
45 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:
50 Rent off thy filver hair, thy other hand
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
The clofing up of your most wretched eyes!
Now is a time to ftorm, why art thou still?
Tit. Ha, ha, ha!




Mar. Why doft thou laugh? it fits not with this
Tit. Why I have not another tear to fhed:
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 seem to speak to me;
And threat me, I fhall never come to blifs,
Till all thefe mifchiefs be return'd again,

3 Caftle in this place fignifies a clefs belmet,


Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me fee what tafk 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 employed 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;
And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Let's kifs and part, for we have much to do.

Manet Lucius.

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;
Left we remember ftill, that we have none.-
5 Fye, fye, how frantickly I fquare my talk!
As if we fhould 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;-
Io I can interpret all her martyr'd figns;————

[Exeunt. 15

Luc. Farewel, Andronicus, my noble father;
The woful't man that ever liv'd in Rome!
Farewel, proud Rome! 'till Lucius comes 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 emperess
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.


An Apartment in Titus's boufe.



[Exit Lucius. 30

A banquet. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and
young Lucius, a boy.

Tit. So, fo; now fit: and look, you eat no more
Than will preserve 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 misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.-

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

[To Lavinia.
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 the lamenting fool in fea-falt tears.

Mar. Fye, brother, fye! teach her not thus to lay
Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has forrow made thee doat

Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can fhe lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore doft thou urge the name of hands;-


She fays, the drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her forrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks:--
Speechlefs 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 figh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a fign,
But I, of thefe, will wrest an alphabet,

And, by ftill practice 1, learn to know the meaning.
Boy. Good grandfire, leave these bitter deep la-

Make my aunt merry with fome pleasing tale.
Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see 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'st 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 gone;
I fee, 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 flender gilded wings,
And buz lamenting doings in the air?
Poor harmless fly!

40 That with his pretty buzzing melody,



Came here to make us merry; and thou haft kill'd
Mar. Pardon me, fir; it was a black ill-fa-
vour'd fly,

Like to the emperefs' 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,
50 Come hither purposely to poison me.—————
There's for thyfelf, and that's for Tamora.
Ah, firrah!-yet I 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 fo wrought
on him,


He takes falfe fhadows for true substances. Tit. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy clofet; and go read with thee 60 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.

By conftant or continual practice.


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