In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow, Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn. O, reverend tribunes! O, gentle, aged men! * 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 pleadGrave tribunes, once more I entreat of you u! Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. TIT. Why, 'tis no matter, man; if they did hear, Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones,* A stone is as soft wax,-tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent, and offendeth not;And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.[Rises. 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? TIT. Will it consume me? let me see it, then. MARC. This was thy daughter. TIT. Why, Marcus, so she is. Luc. Ay me! this object kills me! TIT. Faint-hearted boy, arise and look upon her. b Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd MARC. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? MARC. O, thus I found her, straying in the Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer TIT. It was my deer; and he that wounded her b Speak, Lavinia, &c.] The second folio reads, and perhaps correctly, "Speak, my Lavinia," &c. clively body- That is, "living body." So in Massinger's "Fatal Dowry," Act II. Sc. 1, "That his dear father might interment have, See, the young son enter'd a lively grave! Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.- MARC. 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, Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.- Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: 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. MARC. Patience, dear niece.-Good Titus, dry thine eyes. TIT. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot Thy napkin 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 And send it to the king: he for the same TIT. O, gracious emperor ! O, gentle Aaron! Luc. Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, AARON. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. 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. son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. MARC. And for our father's sake and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 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. AARON. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so :[Aside.] But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you '11 say, ere half an hour pass. [He cuts of TITUS's hand. Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS. TIT. Now, stay your strife: what shall be, is despatch'd: Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: have, "her true tears," &c. - limbo-] See note (a), p. 696, Vol. II. castle?] Helmet. Tell him it was a hand that warded him AARON. I go, Andronicus; and, for thy hand, Do, then, dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, ahark how her sighs do blow !] A correction in the second folio; former copies all reading, flow. And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. MARC. 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. MARC. But yet let reason govern thy lament. If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, b For why-] Because. MARC. 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! MARC. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. TIT. Why, I have not another tear to shed: (*) Old text, my. Corrected by Theobald. adear sight-] See note (d), p. 449, Vol. I., and note (6), p. 398, of the present volume. b Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things.] So the first folio, except that by inadvertence it has And at the beginning of the line. The quartos read, "And Lavinia thou shalt be imployd in these armes," &c. Even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do.— You heavy people, circle me about, As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA. O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs, [Exit. 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.— Thou map of woe, 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. MARC. 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. Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;- If Marcus did not name the word of hands!- I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;- Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. TIT. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart; b Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: MARC. 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, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry! and thou hast kill'd him. MARC. Pardon me, sir; it was a black illfavour'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Then pardon me for reprehending thee, Yet, I think we are not brought so low, He takes false shadows for true substances. TIT. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, And thou shalt read when mine begins to dazzle. [Exeunt. (*) First folio, begin. * |