Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. [Exit. SCENE II. A room in TITUS's house. A banquet 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 revenge these bitter woes of ours. As will Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Who,(3) when my heart, all mad with misery, 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. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Marc. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay 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;— How Troy was was burnt, and he made miserable? As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands!- As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, And by still practice learn to know thy meaning. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Marc. 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 (54) knife? Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord,-a fly. Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart; Mine eyes are (55) 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. Marc. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Tit. But (56) how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buzz lamenting doings in the air! Poor harmless fly, 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 ill-favour'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a charitable deed. Yet, I think,(5) we are not brought so low, That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, 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 chancèd in the times of old.— Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Rome. Before TITUS's house. Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Then enter young LUCIUS, running, with books under his arm, and LAVINIA running after him. Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why:Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Marc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :-somewhat doth she mean :— See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Marc.(59) Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear; Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: I will most willingly attend your ladyship. [Lavinia turns over with her stumps the books which Lucius has let fall. Tit. How now, Lavinia !-Marcus, what means this? Which is it, girl, of these ?-Open them, boy.- Marc. I think she means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact;-ay, more there was; Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. Marc. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. Tit. Soft! so (1) busily she turns the leaves! What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read? And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape; And Marc. See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?— Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt Marc. O, why should nature build so foul a den, Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, -for here are none but friends, What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? Marc. Sit down, sweet niece :-brother, sit down by me.— Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Inspire me, that I may this treason find! My lord, look here :-look here, Lavinia : Without the help of any hand at all. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with his feet and mouth. Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift!— Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it Tit. O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?"Stuprum-Chiron-Demetrius." Marc. What, what!-the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? Tit. Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? Marc. O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know There is enough written upon this earth |