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me !

Enter Saturninus and Aaron.

Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with Sat. Along with me :-I'll see what hole is here,

them.

(Exeunt severally. And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend SCENE V. -The same. Enter Demetrius and Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Chiron, with Lavinia, ravished; her hands cut Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus ; of; and her tongue cut out. Brought thither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee. jest :

Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meanHe and his lady both are at the lodge,

ing so; Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. 'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can Mart. We know not where you left him all alive,

scowl. But, out alas! bere have we found him dead. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy

hands. Enter Tamora, with Attendants ; Titus Androni

Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to cus, and Lucius.

wash; Tam. Where is my lord, the king?

And so let's leave her to her silent'walks. Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing Chi. An’twere my case, I should go hang myself. grief.

Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus ?

cord. (Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound;

Enter Marcus. Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

Mar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,

fast?

(Giving a letter. Cousin, a word ; Where is your husband ?The complot of this timelessl tragedy;

If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. If I do wake, some planet strike me down, Sat. [Reads.) An if we miss to meet him hand- That I may slumber in eternal sleep somely,

Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'lis, we mean,- Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Do thou so much as dig the grave for him ;

Of her two branches ? those sweet ornaments, Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward || Whose circling shadows kings have sought to Among the nettles at the elder tree,

sleep in, Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, And might not gain so great a happiness, Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.

As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 0, Tamora! was ever heard the like?

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, This is the pit, and this the elder tree :

Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out Coming and going with thy honest breath.. That should have murder'd Bassianus here. But, sure, some Tereus hath defloured thee; Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue.

(Showing it. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! Sat. Two of thy whelps, (T. Tit.) fell curs of || And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, bloody kind,

As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Have here bereft my brother of his life :

Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. There let them bide, until we have devis'd Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, 'tis so? Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, Tam. What, are they in this pit? O wondrous That I might rail at him to ease my mind! thing!

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
How easily murder is discovered!

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind :
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,

But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,

Sat. If it be proved! you see, it is apparent. And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? That could have better sew'd than Philomel.

Tam, Andronicus bimself did take it up. O, had the monster seen those lily hands

Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail : | Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them ; They shall be ready at your highness' will, He would not then have touch'd them for his life : To answer their suspicion with their lives. Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,

Sat. Thou shalt noi bail them: see, thou follow me. Which that sweet tongue hath made, Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain ; As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's2 feet. For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : That end upon them should be executed.

For such a sight will blind a father's eye : Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king ;. One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?

Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; (1) Untimely. (2) Orpheus. lo, could our mourning ease thy misery! (Exeunt. VOL. II.

3H

ACT III.

Enter Marcus and Lavinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; SCENE I.— Rome. A street. Enter Senators, Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break; Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with Martius I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. and Quintus, bound, passing on to the place of Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. execution : Titus going before, pleading.

Mar. This was thy daughter. Tit. Hearme, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent

Luc. Ah me! this object kills me ! In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;

T'it. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;

her :For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand And for these bitter tears, which now you see

Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ;

What fool' hath added water to the sea ? Be pitiful to my condemned sons,

Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought! My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, For two and twenty sons I never wept,

And now, like Nilas, it disdaineth bounds.Because they died in honour's lofty bed,

Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain ;

(Throwing himself on the ground. And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life ; My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. | In bootless prayer have they been held up, Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;

And they have serv'd me to effectless use :
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. Now, all the service I require of them

(Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, fc. with Is, that the one will help to cut the other.---
the Prisoners.

'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,

For bands, to do Rome service, are but vain. That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'a

thee? Than youthful April shall with all his showers : In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still ;

Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,

That blabb'd ther with such pleasing eloquence, And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,

Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung

Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.

Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this

deed? 0, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;

Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,
And let me say, that never wept before,

That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.
My tears are now prevailing orators.
Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain;

Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her,

Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead: The tribunes bear you not, no man is by,

For now I stand as one upon a rock,
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead : Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,

Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ;
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you.
Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

Expecting ever when some envious surge
speak.

This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man : if they did hear,

Here stands

my other son, a banish'd man; They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.

And here, my brother, weeping at my woes ;

But that, which gives my soul the greatest spum, Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ;

Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.Who, though they cannot answer iny distress,

Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, Yei in some sort they're better than the tribunes,

It would have madded' me; What shall I do For that they will not intercept my tale :

Now I behold thy lively body so? When I do weep, they humbly at my feet

Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds,

Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee : Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death, A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this :

Look, Marcus ! ah, son Lucius, look on her! stones :

When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
A stone is silent, and offendeth not ;
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death; Upon a gather'd lily almost wither’d.

Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn?
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd

her husband;

Perchance, because she knows them innocent.
For which attempt, the judges have pronoune'd
My everlasting doom of banishment.

Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ;

Because the law bath ta'en revenge on them.Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive,

Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.-
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?

Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey,
But me and mine: How happy art thou then,

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease :
From these devourers to be banished ?

Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, But who comes with our brother Marcus here?

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 (1) The river Nile.

With miry slime left on them by a food?

death :

thine eyes.

And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:And make a brine-pit with our bitter tears ? But I'll deceive you in another sort, Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows

(Aside. Pass the remainder of our hateful days?

(He cuts off Titus's hand. What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,

Enter Lucius and Marcus.
Plot some device of further misery,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

Tit. Now, stay your strife ; what shall be, is Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your

despatch'd. grief,

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand : See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Tell him, it was a hand that warded him Mar. Patience, dear niece :-good Titus, dry From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;

More hath it merited, that let it have. Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus ! brother, well I wot,'|| As for my sons, say, I account of them Thy napkin2 cannot drink a tear of mine, As jewels purchas'd at an easy price; For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Aar. I go, Andronicus : and for thy band, Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her Look by and by to have thy sons with thee :signs :

Their heads, I mean.-0, how this villany (Aside. Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! That to her brother which I said to thee;

Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,

Aaron will have his soul black like his face. (Exit. Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.

Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, O, what a sympathy of wo is this?

And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
As far from help as limbo iş from bliss !

If any power pities wretched tears,
Enter Aaron.
To that I call ;-What, wilt thou kneel with me?

(To Lavinia. Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor, Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our Sends thee this word,- That, if thou love thy sons,

prayers; Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself old Titus, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, Or any one of you, chop off your hand,

And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, And send it to the king : he for the same, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;

Mar. O! brother, speak with possibilities, And that shall be the ransom for their fault. And do not break into these deep extremes.

Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron! Tit. Is net my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Did ever raven sing so like a lark,

Then be my passions: bottomless with them. That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ? Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. With all my heart, I'll send the emperor

Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, My hand:

Then into limits could I bind my woes : Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erLuc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,

flow? That hath thrown down so many enemies, If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn : Threat'ning the welkin' with his big-swoln face? My youth can better spare my blood than

you;

And wilt thou have a reasou for this coil ?5 And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. I am the sea ; bark, how her sighs do blow ! Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Rome,

Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,

Then must my earth with her continual tears Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: O, none of both but are of high desert:

For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, My hand hath been but idle; let it serve But, like a drunkard, must I vomit them. To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then give me leave; for losers will have leave Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along,|| Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand. For fear they die before their pardon come. Mar. My hand shall go.

Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid Luc.

By heaven, it shall not go. For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; these

And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd:

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,|| That wo is me to think upon thy woes, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. More than remembrance of my father's death. Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's

(Exit. care,

Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. And be my heart an everburning hell!

Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand. These miseries are more than may be borne !
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

To
Weep

with them that weep doth ease some deal, Mar.

But I will use the axe. But sorrow flouted at is double death.

[Eceunt Lucius and Marcus. 'Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both;

wound, Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

(1) Know. (2) Handkerchief. (3) Sufferings. (4) The sky. (5) Stir, bustle.

Thou map

That ever death should let life bear his name,

of wo, that thus dost talk in signs ! Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

[To Lavinia. (Lavinia kisses him. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. As frozen water to a starved snake.

Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans ; Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Or get some little knife between thy teeth, Mar. Now, farewell Battery : Die, Andronicus ; | And just against thy heart make thou a hole ; Thou dost not slumber : see, thy two sons' heads; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; May run into that sink, and soaking in, Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Even like a stony image, cold and numb.

Such violent hands upon her tender life. Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs :

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand

already? Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. The closing up of our most wretched eyes ! What violent hands can she lay on her life? Now is a time to storm; why art thou still ? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? hour.

10, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Lest we remember still, that we have none.Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk! And would usurp upon my watry eyes,

As if we should forget we had no hands, And make them blind with tributary tears; If Marcus did not name the word of hands! Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this :For these two heads do seem to speak to me;

Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, I can interpret all her.martyr'd signs ;Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Even in their throats that have committed them. Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her Come, let me see what task I have to do.

cheeks l_ You heavy people, circle me about ;

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thoughts; That I may turn me to each one of you, In thy dumb action will I be as perfect, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. As begging hermits in their holy prayers : The vow is made.--Come, brother, take a head; Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, And in this hand the other will I bear:

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy | And, by stilla practice, learn to know thy meaning. teeth.

Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitier deep laAs for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;

ments : Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay : Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there :

Mar. "Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, And, if you love me, as I think you do,

Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of È reunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia.

tears, Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-. The woful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!

[Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.

Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord ; a Ny. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my 0, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been !

heart; But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,

Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny : But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.

A deed of death, done on the innocent, If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;

Becomes not Titus' brother: Get thee gone; And make proud Saturninus and his empress

I

see, thou art not for my company Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,

T'it. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit. How would he hang his slender gilded wings, SCENE II.-A room in Titus's house. A ban. | Poor harmless fly!

And buzz lamenting doings in the air? quet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and that with his pretty buzzing melody, young Lucius, a boy.

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd Tit. So, so ; now sit: and look, you eat no more

him. Than will preserve just so much strength in us Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill-favour'd As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.

fly,
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot ; Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, Tit. 0, 0, 0,
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;

Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
And when my heart, all mad with misery, Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,

Come bither purposely to poison me.Then thus I thump it down.

There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. – (1) An allusion to brewing.

(2) Constant or continual practice.

mean:

Ah, sirrah !

My mother gave't me. Yet I do think we are not brought so low,

Mar.

For love of her that's gone, But that, between us, we can kill a fly,

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on Help her :him,

What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read? He takes false shadows for true substances. This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

Tit. Come, take away.--Lavinia, go with me : And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape;
I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee

And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.-

Mar. See, brother, see; note, how she quotes Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,

the leaves. And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl,

(Exeunt. Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,

Forc'd in the ruthless,5 vast, and gloomy woods ?

See, see
ACT IV.

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,

O, had we never, never, hunted there!) SCENE I.The same. Before Titus's house. Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, Enter Titus and Marcus. Then enter young | By nature made for murders, and for rapes

. Lucius, Lavinia running after him.

Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den,

Unless the gods delight in tragedies! Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Tit. Give signs, sweet girl,--for here are none Follows me every where, I know not why

but friends,Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! Whai Roman lord it was durst do the deed : Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine That left ihe camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? aunt.

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ;-brother, sit down Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

by me.Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. | Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these inspire me, that I may this treason find !signs ?

My lord, look here ;-Look here, Lavinia : Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :-Somewhat doth she This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,

This after me, when I have writ my name See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee : Without the help of any hand at all. Somewhither would she have thee go with her. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides Ab, boy, Cornelia never with more care

it with his feet and mouth. Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator.2

Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ? || What God will have discover'd for revenge: Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor

can I guess,

Heaven guide thy pen print thy sorrows plain, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her :

That we may know the traitors, and the truth! For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,

(She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

it with her stumps, and writes. And I have read that Hecuba of Troy

Tit. O, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ! Ran mad through sorrow : That made me to fear; || Stuprum-Chiron- Demetrius. Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt

Mar. What, what !- The lustful sons of Tamora Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Tit. Magne Dominator poli, Which made me down to throw my books, and ily; || Tam lentus audis scelera ? tam lentus vides? Causeless, perhaps : But pardon me, sweet aunt : Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although, I know, And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

There is enough written upon this earth, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, Mar. Lucius, I will.

And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. (Lavinia turns over the books which Lucius|My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; has let fall.

And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; Tit. How now, Lavinia ?–Marcus, what means | And swear with me,-as with the woful feere, . this?

And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame, Some book there is that she desires to see : Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape--Which is it, girl, of these ?-Open them, boy.- That we will prosecute, by good advice, But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd; Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, Come, and take choice of all my library, And see their blood, or die with this reproach. And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens

Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware : Why lifts she up her arms in sequences thus ? The dam will wake; and, if she wind

you once, Mar. I think, she means, that there was more She's with the lion deeply still in league,

And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, Confederate in the fact :- Ay, more there was :- And, when be sleeps, will she do what she list. Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. You're a young huntsman, Marcus ; let it alone ;

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she togseth so? And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses ; And with a gad? of steel will write these words,

And lay it by: the angry northern wind
(1) This was formerly not a disrespectful expression.
2) Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator. (5) Pitiless. (6) Husband.
(3) Succession. (4) To quote is to observe. (7) The point of a spear.

than one

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