To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And with a gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by the angry northern wind Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe Marc. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft For his ungrateful country done the like. Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. Tit. Come, go with me into mine armory; Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, Shalt (6) carry from me to the empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Boy. Marc. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart [Exit. SCENE II. The same. A room in the palace. Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON; from the other side, young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us. Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. I greet your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Roman gods confound you both! [Aside. Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news? The goodliest weapons of his armory To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that, (66) whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well : And so I leave you both,-like bloody villains [aside]. [Exeunt Boy and Attendant. Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written round about? Let's see: [Reads] “Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.” Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago. Aar. Ay, just, a verse in Horace ;-right, you have it.— Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! [Aside. Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt; And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. But were our witty empress well a-foot, Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. Chi. A charitable wish and full of love. Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus ? Dem. Soft! who comes here? Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms. O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace!— Aar. To whom? Nur. I mean, she is brought a-bed. Aar. Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? Nur. A devil. Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue. Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue: Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Chi. It shall not live. Aar. It shall not die. Nur. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point:Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it. Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. [Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws. Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, That shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point That touches this my first-born son and heir! With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood, Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. In that it scorns to bear another hue; Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, To keep mine own,-excuse it how she can. Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd. Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart! Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer: Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father, He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you; Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? And we will all subscribe to thy advice: Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. My son and I will have the wind of you: |