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? When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? I am the fea; hark, how her fighs do blow! Enter a MESSENGER, with two beads and a band. That woe is me to think upon thy woes, More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit. And be my heart an ever-burning hell! 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? 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; For these two heads do feem to speak to me; Even in their throats that have committed them. 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. Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and Lavinia. O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore haft been! If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; [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 And when my heart, all mad with misery, 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? To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? O o iij Fye, fye, how frantickly 1 fquare my talk! If Marcus did not name the word of hands!- As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not figh, nor hold thy ftumps to heaven, And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. 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? |