My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd
But even with law against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenzy and his bitterness?

And now he writes to heaven for his redress:
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
This to Apollo; this to the god of war:
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies

Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know that justice lives
In Saturninus' health; whom, if he sleep,
He'll so awake, as he in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.
Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,

Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,

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Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his

heart;

And rather comfort his distressed plight

Than prosecute the meanest or the best

For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it shall become

High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor in the port.

Enter Clown.

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How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us? Clo. Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clo. 'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you

godden: I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [Saturninus reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clo. How much money must I have?

Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.

Clo. Hanged! by 'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.

Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!

Shall I endure this monstrous villany?

[Exit, guarded.

I know from whence this same device proceeds;
May this be borne? As if his traitorous sons,
That died by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully!
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;
Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege :
For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughter-man ;
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter Emilius.

What news with thee, Æmilius?

Emil. Arm, my lords; Rome never had more cause.

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The Goths have gather'd head, and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus ;

Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.

Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?

These tidings nip me, and I hang the head

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As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms:
Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach:

'Tis he the common people love so much ;
Myself hath often heard them say,

When I have walked like a private man,

That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,

And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor. Tam. Why should you fear? is not your city strong? Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,

And will revolt from me to succour him.

Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus

With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep;
Whenas the one is wounded with the bait,

The other rotted with delicious feed.

Sat But he will not entreat his son for us.

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Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will:
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ears
With golden promises; that, were his heart
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,

Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
[To Emilius] Go thou before, be our ambassador:
Say that the emperor requests a parley
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting
Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus.

Sat. Æmilius, do this message honourably:

And if he stand on hostage for his safety,
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
Emil. Your bidding shall I do effectually.
Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus,

And temper him with all the art I have,

ΙΟΙ

[Exit.

To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. IIO
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,
And bury all thy fear in my devices.

Sat Then go successantly, and plead to him.

Flourish.

ACT FIFTH.

Scene I.

Plains near Rome.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lucius and Goths, with drum and colours. Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify what hate they bear their emperor, And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs;

And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,

Let him make treble satisfaction.

II

First Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,
Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st,
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day,
Led by their master to the flowered fields,
And be avenged on cursed Tamora.

All the Goths. And as he saith, so say we all with him.
Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?

Enter a Goth, leading Aaron with his Child in his arms. Sec. Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd 20 To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye Upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall. I made unto the noise; when soon I heard The crying babe controll'd with this discourse: 'Peace, tawny slave, halt me and half thy dam! Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor : But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, They never do beget a coal-black calf.

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Peace, villain, peace!'-even thus he rates the babe-
For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth;

Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe,
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.'