Mar. Stand by me, Lucius, do not fear thy aunt.
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome fhe did.

Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by thefe figns?
Tit. Fear thou not, Lucius, fomewhat doth fhe mean:
See, Lucius, fee, how much she makes of thee:
Some whither would fhe have thee go with her.
Ah boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her fons, than fhe hath read to thee
Sweet poetry, and Tully's oratory:

Can't thou not guess wherefore the plies thee thus?
Boy. My Lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless fome fit or frenzie do poffefs her:
For I have heard my grandfire fay full oft,
Extremity of grief would make men mad.
And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy

Ran mad through forrow; that made me to fear,
Although, my Lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth,
Which made me down to throw my books, and flie,
Caufelefs perhaps; but pardon me, fweet aunt,
And, Madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

I will most willingly attend your Ladyship.

Mar. Lucius, I will.

Tit. How now, Lavinia? Marcus, what means this? Some book there is that fhe defires to fee.

Which is it, girl, of these? open them, boy.
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd:
Come and make choice of all my library,
And fo beguile thy forrow, 'till the heav'ns
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed:
What book?

Why lifts the up her arms in fequence thus?

Mar. I think the means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact. Ay, more there was: Or else to heav'n fhe heaves them, for revenge. Tit. Lucius, what book is that the toffes fo? VO L. V.

E e

Boy.

Boy. Grandfire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphofes ; My mother gave it me.

Mar. For love of her that's gone,

Perhaps the cull'd it from among the reft.

Tit. Soft! fee how bufily fhe turns the leaves ! Help her what would fhe find? Lavinia, fhall I read? This is the tragick tale of Philomel,

And treats of Tercus' treafon and his rape;

And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

Mar. See, brother, fee, note how the quotes the leaves. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus furpriz'd, fweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,

Forc'd in the ruthlefs, vaft, and gloomy woods?
See, fee;

Ay, fuch a place there is, where we did hunt,
(O had we never never hunted there!)
Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.

Mar. O why fhould nature build fo foul a den,
Unless the Gods delight in tragedies!

Tit. Give figns, fweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman Lord it was durft do the deed;

Or flunk not Saturnine as Tarquin erst,

That left the camp to fin in Lucrece bed?

Mar. Sit down, fweet niece; brother, fit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,

Infpire me, that I may this treafon find.

My Lord, look here; look here, Lavinia.

[He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with
bis feet and mouth.

This fandy plot is plain; guide, if thou can'ft,
This after me, when I have writ my name,

Without the help of any hand at all.

Curft be that heart that forc'd us to this fhift!
Write thou, good niece, and here display at least,
What God will have difcover'd for revenge;
Heav'n guide thy pen, to print thy forrows plain,

That

That we may know the traitors, and the truth! [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with ber ftumps, and writes.

Tit. Oh do you read, my Lord, what he hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.

Mar. What, what! the luftful fons of Tamora,
Performers of this hateful bloody deed?
Tit. 'Magnes 'Regnator Poli,
Tam lentus audis fcelera! tam lentus vides!

Mar. Oh calm thee, gentle Lord; although I know There is enough written upon this earth,

To ftir a mutiny in the mildeft thoughts,

And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My Lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia, kneel,
And kneel, fweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope,
And fwear with me, (as with the woeful peer
And father of that chafte difhonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus fware for Lucrece' rape)
That we will profecute (by good advice)
Mortal revenge upon thefe traiterous Goths,
And fee their blood, 'ere die with this reproach.
Tit. 'Tis fure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt thefe bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake, and if fhe wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply ftill in league,
And lulls him whilft fhe playeth on her back,
And when he fleeps will fhe do what the lift.
You're a young huntsman, Marcus, let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by; the angry northern wind
Will blow thefe fands like Sybil's leaves abroad,
And where's your leffon then? boy, what fay you!
Boy. I fay, my Lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber fhould not be fafe,
For thefe bad bond-men to the yoak of Rome.
Ee 2

4 Magni... old edit. Theob. emend.
5 Dominator
6 or

Mar.

Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
For this ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, uncle, fo will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into my armory.
Lucius, I'll fit thee, and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the Emprefs' fons
Presents that I intend to fend them both.

Come, come, thou'lt do my meffage, wilt thou not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosom, grandfire.
Tit. No, boy, not fo, I'll teach thee another course.
Lavinia, come; Marcus, look to my houfe;
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the Court,

Ay, marry will we, Sir, and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt.
Mar. Ó heavens, can you hear a good man groan
And not relent, or not compaffion him?

Marcus, attend him in his ecftafie,

That hath more fcars of forrow in his heart

Than foe-mens marks upon his batter'd shield,
But yet's fo juft, that he will not revenge;
Revenge, oh` heav'ns, for old Andronicus!

SCENE II.

The Palace.

[Exit.

Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door: and at another door young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons and verfes writ upon them.

Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius,

He hath fome meffage to deliver us.

Aar. Ay, fome mad meffage 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.

Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news? Boy. That you are both decypher'd (that's the news)

For

For villains mark'd with rape. May it please you,

My grandfire well advis'd hath fent by me
The goodlieft weapons of his armory,
To gratifie your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for fo he bad me fay:
And fo 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, like bloody villians.

[Exit.

Dem. What's here, a fcrowl, and written round about?

Let's fee.

Integer vita fcelerifque purus,

Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi. O'tis a verfe in Horace, I know it well:

I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay juft, a verfe in Horace-right, you have itNow what a thing it is to be an afs?

Here's no 'fond jeft, th' old man hath found their guilt,
And fends the weapons wrap'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Emprefs well a-foot,

She would applaud Andronicus' conceit:
But let her reft in her unreft a while.

And now, young Lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome ftrangers, and more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good before the palace-gate
To brave the Tribune in his brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to fee fo great a Lord
Bafely infinuate, and fend us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reafon, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman dames

At fuch a bay, by turn to ferve our luft.
Chi. A charitable with, and full of love.

Aar. Here lacketh but your mother to fay Amen.
Chi. And that would fhe for twenty thousand more.

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Dem.

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