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That he thereby may have a likely guess,

Tum. Where is thy brother Bassianos? How these were they, that made away his brother. Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my

[Exit Aaron. Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. (wound; Marc. Why dost not comfort me and help me Tum. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, out

5 The complot of this timeless tragedy: From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? And wonder greatly, that nian's face can fold

Quint. I am surprized with an uncouth fear : In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny, A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints;

[She giveti Saturninys a letter. Mine herat suspects more than mine eye can see.

Saturninus reads the letter. Murc. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, 10 An if we miss to meet him handsomely,– Aaron and thou look down into this den,

“ Sweet huntsman-Bassianus'tis, we mean,And see a fearful sight of blood and death.

Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; Quint. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate Thou know'st qur meaning: Look for tby heart

" reward Will not permit my eyes once to behold 15 Among the nettles at the elder-tree, The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise; “ Which over-shades themouthof that same pit, 0, tell me how it is; for ne'er 'till now

“Wbere we decreed to bury Bassianus. Was I a child, to fear I know not what.

Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends." Marc. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, O Tamora! was ever heard the like? All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lanib, 20 This is the pit, and this the elder-tree: In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out,

Quint. If it be dark, how dost thow know 'tis he: T'hat should have murder'd Bassianus here.

Marc. L'pon his bloody finger he doth wear Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold, A precious ring that lightens all the hole,

[Shewing it. Which, like a taper in some monument, 125 Sat. Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody Doth'shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,

kind, And shews the ragged entrails of this pit: Have here bereft my brother of hiş life : So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus,

[To Titus. When he by night lay bath'd in inaiden blood. Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; O brother, help me with thy fainting hand, 30 There let them bide, until we have devis'd If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, Soinę peyer-heard-of torturing pain for them. Out of this fell devouring receptacle,

Tam, What, are they in this pit? O wond'roys As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. [out:

thing! Quint. Reach methy hand, that I may help thee How easily murder is discovered! Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 35 Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I may be pluck'd

into the swallowing womb I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.

That this feļl fault of mine accursed sons,I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in themMarc. And I no strength to climb without thy Sat. If it be proy'd! You see, it is apparent. help.

(again, 40 Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? Quint. 'I hy hand once more; I will not lost Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up. 'Till thou art here aloft, or I below :

Tit. I did, my lord; yet let me be their bail

; Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,

[Falls in They shall be ready at your highness' will, Enter the Emperor, and Aaron. 45 To answer their suspicion with their lives. Sat. Along with me : -I'll see what hole is Sat. Thou shalt not bail them ; see, thou folhere,

low me.

[ers. And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. Some bring the murder'd body,somethe murderSay, who art thou, that lately didst descend Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain; Into this gaping hollow of the earth? 150 For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,

Marc. The unhappy son of old Andronicus; That end upon them should be executed.
Brought hither in a inost unlucky hour,

Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king; To find thy brother Bassianus dead. [jest ; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough.

Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk He and his lady both are at the lodge,

55

with them, [Exeunt sederally, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase ; 'Tis not an hour since I left him there. (alive,

SCENE V. Marc. We know not where you left him all But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. Enter Demetrįu's and Chiron, with Lacinia, raEnter Tamora, with Attendants ; Andronicus and 60 vishd; her hånds'cut off, and her tongue cut out. Lucius.

Dem. So, now go' țell, an if thy tongue can Tam, Where is my lord, the king? [grief.

speak, Sat. Here, Tamora ; though griev'd with killing Who'twas that cutthy tongue, and ravish'd thee, There is supposed to be a gem called a carbuncle, which emits not roflected but native light.

Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy mean- Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! ing so;

And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. As from a conduit with their issuing spouts, Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, scowl.

[hands. 5 Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy Shall I speak for thee; shall I say, 'tis so? Dem. She has no tongue to call, nor hands to O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, wash;

That I might rail at him to ease my mind !
And so let's leave her to her silent walks. (self. Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,

Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang my-10 Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,

cord. [E.reunt Demetrius and Chiron.) And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
Enter Marcus to Lirinia.

But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; Alur. Who's this,—my niece, that flies away A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,

15 And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, Cousin, a word; Where is

your

husband? That better could have sew'd than Philomel. If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake 0, had the monster seen those lily hands me !

Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, If I do wake, some planet strike me down, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them; That I may slumber in eternal sleep!

120 He would not then have touch'd them for his life. Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, Have lopp’d, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Which that sweet tongue hath made; Of her two branches; those sweet ornaments, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep. Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. And might not gain so great a happiness, [in ; 25 Come, let us go, and make thy father blind; As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?- For such a sight will blind a father's

eye: Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,

One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads: Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes. Dóth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; Coming and going with thy honey breath. 300, could our mourning easc thy misery! But, sure, some lereus hath deflower'd thee;

[Exeunt. And, lest thou should'st detect hiin,cut tl y tongue.

so fast?

A CT. III.

Tit. HEAR

SCENE I.

O earth! I will befriend thee more with rain, A Street in Rome.

[Exeunt.

That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Enter the Judges and Senators, with Marcus and 45 Than youthful April shall with all bis showers: Quintus bound, passing on the stage to the place

In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still; of execution, and Titus going before, pleading. In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow, EAR me, grave fathers ! noble tribunes, And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, stay!

So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 50 Enter Lucius, reith liis stuord draton., In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; O reverend tribunes! gentle aged men! For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; For all the frosty nights that I have watch’d; And let me say, that never wept before, And for these bitter tears, which you now see My tears are now prevailing orators. Filling the aged wrinkles in my

cheeks; 55 Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain; Be pitiful to my condemned sons,

The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought! And you recount your sorrows to a stone. For two-and-twenty sons I never wept,

Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. [Andronicuslieth down and the Judýes pass by him.60 Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you For these, these tribunes, in the dust'I write

speak. My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tcars. Tit. Why,'us no matter, man: if they did hear, Let my tears stanch the carth's dry appetite; They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, Mysons'sweet blood will make it shánie and blush.) (All bootless unto them, they would not pity me.

Therefore

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; (Here stands my other son, a banish'd man;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress, And here my brother, weeping at my woes:
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
For that they will not intercept my tale: Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. -
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet, 5 Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
Receive iny tears, and seem to weep with me; It would have madded me? What shall I do,
And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Now I behold thy lovely body so?
Rome could aiford no tribune like to these. Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears;
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee;
stones :

10 Thy husband, he is dead; and, for his death, A stone is silent, and offendeth not;

Chy brothers are condemn’d, and dead by this: And tribuneswith theirtonguesdoom men to death. Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! Butwhereforestand'st thouwith thyweapon drawn? When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears

Luc. Torescue my two brothers from their death: stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd 15 Opon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. My everlasting doom of banishment.

Marc. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee.

her husband : Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, Perchance, because she knows them innocent. That Rome is but a wilderness of tygers?

Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,
Tygers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, 20 Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.-
But me and mine: How happy art thou then, No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
From these devourers to be banished ?

Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
Enter Marcus and Lacinia.

Or make some signs how I may do thee ease. Marc. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep : 25 Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, Or, it not so, thy noble heart to break;

And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain; I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. How they are stain'd; like meadows yet not dry Marc. This was thy daughter.

With miry slime left on them by a flood ? Tii. Why, Marcus, so she is.

30 And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!

Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, Tit.Faint-hearted boy,arise, and look upon her:- And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hanu

Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? Fiath made thee handless in thy father's sight? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows What fool hath added water to the sea? 35 Pass the remainder of our hateful days? Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? What shall we do? Let us, that have our tongues, My griet was at the height, before thou cam’st, Plot some device of further misery, did now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.- To make us wonder'd at in time to come. Give me a sword, l'II chop off my hands too; Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at For they have fought for Kome, and all in vain; 10 And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life ; See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. In bootless prayer have they been held up,

Marc. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry And they have serv'd me to effectless use: Now, ali the service I require of them

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot, Is, that the one will help to cut the other.- 45 Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of nine, [own. 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; For thou, poor inan, hast drown'd it with thine Por hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.

Lue. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee: Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her Marc. (), that delightful engine of her thoughts,

signs : That blabb’d them with such pleasing eloquence,50 Had she a tongue to speak, now she would say Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; That to her brother which I said to thee; Where like a sweet melodious bird it sang His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Sweet vary'd notes, enchanting every ear! Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.

Luc. O, saythou for her, who hath done this deed: 0, what a sympathy of woe is this!

Marc. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, 55 As far from help as limbo is from bliss. Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer,

Enter Aaron. That hath receiy'd some uprecuring wound. Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emiperor

Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her, Sends thee this word,—That it thou love thy sons, llath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead: Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, For now I stand as one upon a rock,

10 Or any one of you, chop off your hand, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;

And send it to the king: he for the same, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; Expecting ever when some envious surge And that shall be the ransom for their fault. Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

Tit. O, gracious emperor! 0, gentle Aaron! This way to death my wretched sons are gone; 16; Did ever raven sing so like a lark,

your grief,

thine eyes.

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ? And do not break into these deep extremes.
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor my hand; Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it oft? Then be my passions bottomless with them.

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine, Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament,
That hath thrown down so many enemies, 5. Tit. If there were reason for these miseries,
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn: Then into limits could I bind my woes :
My youth can better spare my blood than you ; When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.

o'erflow?
Marc. Which of your hands háth not defended If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, [Rome, 10 Threatning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
Writing destruction on the enenies' castle'? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
O, none of both but are of high desert:

I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! My hand hath been but idle; let it serve She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ; Then have I kept it to a worthy end. [along, 15 Then must my earth with her continual tears

Aar. Nay, come, agree, wliose hand shall go Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: For fear they die before their pardon come. For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, Marc. My band shall go.

But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. [these Then give me leave; for losers will have leave

Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as 20 To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues, Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Entera Messenger, bringing in two headsand hand,

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repay'd Let me redeem my brothers both from death. For that good hand, thou sent’st the emperor.

Marc. And, for our father's sake, and mother's Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ; Now let me shew a brother's love to thee. (care, 25 And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent hack;

Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand. Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd: Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

That woe is me to think upon thy woes, Marc. But I will use the axe.

More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exeunt Lucius and Marcus.

[Exit, Tit. Coine hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both; 30. Marc. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily, Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. And be my heart an ever-burning hell!

Aar, If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, These miseries are more than may be borne ! And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:- Toweep with them that weep, doth ease some deal; But I'll deceive you in another sort,

But sorrow ficuted at is double death. [wound, And that you'll say ere half an hour pass. [Aside. 35 Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a

[He cuts off Titus's hand. And yet detested life not shrink thereat ! Enter Lucius and Marcus again.

That ever death should let life bear his name, Tit. Now, stay your strife ; what shall be, is Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ! dispatch d.

(Lavinia kisses him. Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: 40. Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

As frozen water to a starved snake. [end : From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;

Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an More hath it merited, that let it have!

Marc. Now,farewell,flattery: Die, Andronicus;. As for my sons, say, I account of them

Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; As jewels purchas'd' at an easy price;

45 Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; Anu yet dear too, because I bought mine own, Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight

Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand, Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Look by-and-by to have thy sons with thee :- Even like a stony image, cold and numt. Their heads, I mean.-0, how this villainy [Aside. Ah! now no more will I controul thy griefs: Doth fat ine with the very thought of it! 50 Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Let fools do good, and fáir men call for grace, Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Erit. The closing up of your most wretched eyes!

Tit. O hear!-I lift this one hand up to heaven, Now is a time to storm, why art thou still ? And bow this feeble ruin to the earth;

Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

[hour. If any power pities wretched tears,

55) Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this To that I call.-What, wilt thou kneel with me? Tit. Why I have not another tear to shed:

[To Lavinia.

Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our And would usurp upon my watry eyes, prayers;

And make them blind with tributary tears; Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, 60 Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, For these two heads do seem to speak to me; When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, Marc. O! brother, speak with possibilities, l'Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, Castle in this place signifies a close helmet,

Even in their throats that have committed them. To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er,
Come, let me see what task I have to do. How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ?
You heavy people, circle me about;

0, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; That I may turn me to each one of you,

Lest we remember still, that we have none.And swear' unto my soul to right your wrongs. 5 Fye, fye, how frantickly I square my talk! The vow is made.-Come, brother, take a head; As if we should forget we had no hands, And in this hand the other will I bear :

If Marcus did not name the word of hands ! Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this :Bearthou myhand,sweetwench,between thyteeth. Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; 100 can interpret all her martyr'd signs ;Thou art an exíle, and thou must not stay: she says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there; Brew'd with her sortows,mesh'd upon bercheeks: And, if you love me, as I think you do,

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,

[Excunt. 15 As begging hermits in their holy prayers; Manet Lucius.

Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, The wofullst man that ever liv'd in Rome ! But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, Farewell, proud Rome!’till Lucius comes again, And, by still practice', learn to know the meaning. He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. 201 Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep l'arewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

laments; O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been ! Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,

Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.

Doth

weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;

25 Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of And make proud Saturninus and his emperess

And tears will quickly melt thy lite away: [tears, Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.

[Marcus strikes the dish with a knite, Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,

What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knite ? To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. [Erit Lucius. 301, Tit.Outon thee, murderer! thou kill'st myheart;

Mine

eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: SCENE II.

A deed of death, done on the innocent,
An Apartment in Titus's house.

Becomes not Titus' brother; Get thee gone; A banquet. Enler Titus, Marcus, Lutinia, and I see, thou art not for my company. young Lucius, a boy.

351 Marc. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly, Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? Than will preserve just so much strength in us, How would he hang his slender gilded wings, As will revenge these bitter woes of ours, And buz lamenting doings in the air? Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; Poor harmless tly! Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, 40 That with his pretty buzzing melody, [him. And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-fa Is Jest to tyrannize upon my breast;.

vour'd ny, And when my heart, all mad with misery, Like to the emperess' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,

145 Tit. 0, 0, 0, 'Then thus I thump it down.

Then pardon me for reprehendipg thee, Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs ! For thou hast done a charitable deed.

[To Luvinia. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him ; When thypoor heart beatswith outrageous beating, Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still, 150 Come hither purposely to poison me. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. Or get some little knie between thy teeth, Ah, sirralı!—yet I thinkwe are not brought so low, And just against thy heart make thou a hole; But that, between us, we can kill a fly, That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Nay run into that sink, and, soaking in, 135) Alarc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought Drówn the lamenting tool in sea-sali tears.

on him, Afarc. Fye,brother, fye! teach her not thus to lay He takes false shadows for true substances. Such violent bands upon hier tender life.

Tut. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me; Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee doat

I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee already?

00 Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, Wnåt violent hands can she lay on her life? And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. A'l, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;

Excunt. By constant or continual practice.

ACT

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