Lav. 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark: Yet I have heard, (O could I find it now!) The lion mov'd with pity, did endure To have his princely paws par'd all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

Tam. I know not what it means; away with her. Lav. O, let me teach thee: for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,

Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

:

Tam. Had thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent. Therefore away with her, and use her as you will;} The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Lav. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place : For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long; Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died.

Tam. What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let me go.

Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing

more,

That womanhood denies my tongue to tell :
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit;
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.

Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long. Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly

creature!

The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall-

Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth :-Bring thou her husband; [Dragging off Lav.

[Exeunt. Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you make her

sure:

Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflour. [Exit.
SCENE IV.-The same. Enter Aaron, with
Quintus and Martius.

Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot before: Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. Mart. And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame,

Well could I leave our sport to sleep a while. [Martius falls into the pit. Quin. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this,

Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars;
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood,
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me :-
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mart. O, brother, with the dismallest object
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament.
Aar. [Aside. Now will I fetch the king to find
them here;

That he thereby may give a likely guess,
How these were they that made away his brother.
Exit Aaron.
Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallow'd and blood-stain'd hole?

Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear: A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.

Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death.

Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise:
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.

Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he?
Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus,
When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood.
O brother, help me with thy fainting hand,-
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,-
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;

Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy
help.
Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose again
Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.
[Falls in.

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.

O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.

Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain ;
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead:
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you.
Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you
speak.

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Ye in some sort they're better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale : When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than

stones :

A stone is silent, and offendeth not;
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn?
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their
death:

For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment.

Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, But me and mine: How happy art thou then, From these devourers to be banished? But who comes with our brother Marcus here?

(1) The river Nile.

Enter Marcus and Lavinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break ;
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then.
Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.
Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!
Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon
her:-

Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
What fool' hath added water to the sea?
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st,
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.—
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have serv'd me to effectless use:
Now, all the service I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.--
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'a

thee?

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer, That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.

Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her, Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead: For now I stand as one upon a rock, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. Expecting ever when some envious surge Here stands my other son, a banish'd man; This way to death my wretched sons are gone; And here, my brother, weeping at my woes; But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me; What shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death, Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this :Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband;

Perchance, because she knows them innocent.

Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain; Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry With miry slime left on them by a flood?

And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And make a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some device of further misery,

To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief,

See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Mar. Patience, dear niece:-good Titus, dry thine eyes.

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot, Thy napkin2 cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother which I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
O, what a sympathy of wo is this?
As far from help as limbo is from bliss!

Enter Aaron.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor, Sends thee this word,-That, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And send it to the king: he for the same, Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; And that shall be the ransom for their fault.

Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron! Did ever raven sing so like a lark, That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? With all my heart, I'll send the emperor My hand':

Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down so many enemies, Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn: My youth can better spare my blood than you; And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,

And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
O, none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
To ransom my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along,
For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand shall go.
Luc.

By heaven, it shall not go. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as these

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand. Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe. Mar. But I will use the axe. [Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both; Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

(1) Know. (2) Handkerchief. (3) Sufferings.

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [Aside. : [He cuts off Titus's hand.

Enter Lucius and Marcus.

Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is despatch'd.

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee :-
Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villany [Aside.
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit.
Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
If any power pities wretched tears,

To that I call-What, wilt thou kneel with me? [To Lavinia. Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;

Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Mar. O brother, speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes.

Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. Tit. If there were reason 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 sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin' with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?5
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
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, must I vomit them.
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand.

Thou map of wo,

That ever death should let life bear his name,
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!
[Lavinia kisses him.
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless,
As frozen water to a starved snake.

Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Mar. Now, farewell flattery: Die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs: Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes! Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.

Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watry eyes,. And make them blind with tributary tears; Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me; And threat me, I shall 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 swear unto my soul 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, sweet wench, between thy teeth.

As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;
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 kiss and part, for we have much to do.
[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;
The woful'st 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 sister;

O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast 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 house. A ban
quet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and
young Lucius, a

boy.

Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more Than will preserve just so much strength in us As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate 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.

(1) An allusion to brewing.

that thus dost talk in signs! [To Lavinia. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some 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 sink, and soaking in, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.

Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?

Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore dost 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;
Lest we remember still, that we have none.-
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk!
As if we should 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 signs;-
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her
cheeks :1-

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thoughts;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,

And, by still? practice, learn to know thy meaning.
Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep la-

ments:

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of
tears,

And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-
[Marcus strikes the dish with a knife.
What dost thou strike 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 see, 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 slender gilded wings,
Poor harmless fly!
And buzz lamenting doings in the air?

That with his pretty buzzing melody,

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd him.

Mar. Pardon me, sir; 'twas a black ill-favour'd fly,

Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
Come hither purposely to poison me.-
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.-

(2) Constant or continual practice.