PUB. Therefore, my lords, it highly us concerns, By day and night to attend him carefully; And feed his humour kindly as we may, Till time beget some careful remedy.

MARC. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

TIT. Publius, how now! how now, my masters! What, have you met with her?

PUB. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you
word,

If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall :
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

TIT. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.

I'll dive into the burning lake below,
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.-
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops' size;
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can

bear:

*) Old text, To Saturnine, to Caius.

SS

TIT. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
CLOWN. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter:

I never drank with him in all my life.

TIT. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? CLOWN. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. TIT. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? CLOWN. From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days! Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs," to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

MARC. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.

TIT. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?

CLOWN. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

TIT. Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor: By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.

mistaking "Jupiter," as hurriedly pronounced by Titus, for Gibbeter, and not, as Steevens supposed, for Jew Peter.

b-tribunal plebs,-] A purposed corruption, probably, as Hanmer conjectured, for tribunis plebis.

charges.

Give me pen and ink.—

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? CLOWN. Ay, sir.

TIT. Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.

CLOWN. I warrant you, sir, let me alone.

TIT. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it.

Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration,

For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant :-
And when thou hast given it the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
CLOWN. God be with you, sir; I will. [Exit.
TIT. Come, Marcus, let us go.-Publius, follow
[Exeunt.

me.

An emperor in Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt ?
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,

But even with law, against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,-
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,"
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress:
See, here's, to Jove, and this, to Mercury;
This, to Apollo; this, to the god of war :—
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this, but libelling against the senate,

aas do-] These words are an addition by Rowe, the line in the old text reading imperfectly,

"My lords, you know the mightful gods."

b his wreaks,-] Capell, and Mr. Collier's annotator, read, freaks.

A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages;
But he and his shall know that Justice lives
In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

TAM. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his
heart;

And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Than prosecute the meanest or the best
For these contempts.-[Aside.] Why thus it shall

"God and Saint Stephen

Give you good even.

I have brought you a letter,

And a couple of pigeons for want of a better."

"Hang'd! By 'r lady then, friend,

I have brought my neck to a fair end."

And this, which almost caps the memorable couplet, by the same authority, in "Henry VI." Part II. Act II. Sc. 3,

"My staff! here, noble Henry, is my staff: To think I fain would keep it, makes me laugh,”-Mr. Collier has the barbarity to impute to Shakespeare!

ss 2

Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;
Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege :—
For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughter-man ;
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter EMILIUS.

What news with thee, Emilius?

EMIL. Arm, my lords,-Rome never had more cause!

The Goths have gather'd head, and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;

Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.

SAT. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?
These tidings nip me; and I hang the head
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wing*
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus,

With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep;
Whenas the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious feed.

SAT. But he will not entreat his son for us.
TAM. If Tamora entreat him, then he will;
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ear
With golden promises, that, were his heart
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.-
Go thou before; be our ambassador ;

Led by their master to the flower'd fields,

with drum and colours.

Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify what hate they bear their emperor, And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs; And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, Let him make treble satisfaction.

1 GOTH. Brave slip, sprung from the great
Andronicus,

Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds,
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold in us; we'll follow where thou lead'st,-
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day,

GоTHS. And, as he saith, so say we all with him.

Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?