To that I call:-What, wilt thou kneel with me?

[TO LAVINIA. Do then, dear heart; for heaven fhall hear our prayers; Or with our fighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the fun with fog, as fometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. MAR. O! brother speak with poffibilities,

And do not break into these deep extremes.

Tir. Is not my forrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my paffions bottomlefs with them.
MAR. But yet let reafon govern thy lament.
TIT. If there were reafon for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes:

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the fea wax mad,
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 must my sea be moved with her fighs;
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 ftomachs with their bitter tongues.

Enter a MESSENGER, with two beads and a band.
MESS. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repay'd
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
Here are the heads of thy two noble fons;
And here's thy hand, in fcorn 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.
MAR. Now let hot Etna cool in Sicily,

[Exit.

And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
These miseries are more than may be borne !
To weep with them that weep doth ease fome deal,
But forrow flouted at is double death.

Luc. Ah, that this fight fhould make fo deep a wound, And yet detefted life not fhrink thereat!

That ever death fhould let life bear his name,

Where life hath no more intereft but to breathe!

[LAVINIA kiffes him. MAR. Alas, poor heart, that kifs is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved fnake.

TIT. When will this fearful flumber have an end?
MAR. Now, farewell, flattery: Die, Andronicus ;
Thou doft not flumber : fee, thy two fons' heads;
Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here;
Thy other banifh'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 control thy griefs :
Rent off thy filver hair, thy other hand
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this difmal fight
The clofing up of our 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 hour.

TIT. Why, I have not another tear to shed:

Befides, this forrow is an enemy,

And would ufurp upon my watry eyes,

And make them blind with tributary tears;
Then which way fhail I find revenge's cave?

For these two heads do feem to speak to me;
And threat me, I fhall never come to bliss,
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again,

Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.

You heavy people, circle me about ;

That I may turn me to each one of you,

And fwear 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.

[Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and Lavinia.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;
The woeful'ft man that ever liv'd in Rome!
Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.
Farewell, 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 empress
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.

[Exit.

SCENE II. A Room in TITUS's Houfe. A banquet fet out.

Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young LUCIUS, a

Bor.

TIT. So, fo; now fit and look, you eat no more
Than will preferve 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 tenfold 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.

of woe, that thus doft talk in figns!

Thou map of woe,

[TO LAVINIA. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 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 dote already?

Why, Marcus, no man fhould be mad but I.

What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore doft thou urge the name of hands ;-

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.--

O o iij

Fye, fye, how frantickly 1 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 ;-
I can interpret all her martyr'd figns ;-
She fays, fhe drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her forrows, mefh'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 ftumps to heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a fign,
But I, of thefe, will wreft an alphabet,

And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning.
Bor. Good grandfire, leave thefe bitter deep laments:
Make my aunt merry with fome pleafing tale.
MAR. Alas, the tender boy, in paffion mov'd,
Doth weep to fee his grandfire's heaviness..

TIT. Peace, tender fapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away.

[MARCUS ftrikes the difb 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?