Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Chi. I fee thou wilt not truft the air

With fecrets.

Dem. For this care of Tamora,

Herself and her's are highly bound to thee.

[Exeunt.

Aar. Now to the Goths, as fwift as fwallow flies,

hence,

There to difpofe this treasure in my arms,
And fecretly to greet the Emprefs' friends.
Come on, you thick-lip'd flave, I bear you
For it is you that put us to our shifts.
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
And feaft on curds and whey, and fuck the goat,
And cabbin in a cave; and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp.

SCENE IV. Aftreet near the palace.

[Exit.

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other Gentlemen with bows; and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come, Marcus, come; kinsmen this is the way. Sir boy, now let me fee your archery.

Look, ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight:

Terras Aftrea reliquit

She's gone, fhe's fled

You, coufins, fhall go

be you remember'd, Marcus-Sirs, take

you to found the ocean,

your tools;

And caft your nets; haply you may find her in the sea ;

Yet there's as little juftice as at land

No, Publius and Sempronius; you must do it,

'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,
And pierce the inmoft centre of the earth.
Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
I pray you deliver this petition;
Tell him it is for juftice, and for aid;
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with forrows in ungrateful Rome.

Ah, Rome!Well, well, I made thee miferable,
What time I threw the people's fuffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
Go, get you gone, and pray be careful all,
And leave you not a man of war unfearch'd.

This wicked Emperor may have fhipp'd her hence,
And, kinfmen, then we may go pipe for juftice.
Mar. Oh Publius, is not this a heavy cafe,
To fee thy noble uncle thus diftract?

Pub. Therefore, my Lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night t'attend him carefully ;
And feed his humour, kindly as we may,
Till time beget fome careful remedy.

Mar. Kinfman, his, forrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters;
What, have you met with her?

Pub. No, my good Lord; but Pluto fends you word, If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall.

Marry, for Juftice, fhe is now employ'd,

He thinks, with Jove in heav'n, or fomewhere else;
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
I'll dive into the burning lake below,

And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
Marcus, we are but fhrubs, no cedars we,

No big-bon❜d men, fram'd of the Cyclops' fize;
But metal, Marcus, fleel to th' very back;

Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear.
And fith there is no juftice in earth or hell,
We will folicit heav'n, and move the gods,
To fend down justice for to wreak our wrongs.
Come, to this gear; you're a good archer, Marcus.

[He gives them the arrows.. Ad Jovem, that's for you-here, ad Appollinem--Ad Martem, that's for myfelf;

Here, boy, to Pallas-here, to Mercury

To Saturn and to Cœlus not to Saturnine-
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy; Marcus, loofe when I bid.
O' my word, I have written to effect,

There's not a god left unsolicited.

Mar. Kinfmen, fhoot all your flhafts into the court; We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.

[They boot.

Tit. Now, mafters, draw; oh, well faid, Lucius.

Good boy, in Virgo's lap, give it Pallas.
Mar. My Lord, I am a mile beyond the moor;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what haft thou done? See, fee, thou'ft fhot off one of Taurus' horns.

Mar. This was the fport, my Lord; when Publius The bull being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock, [fhot, That down fell both the ram's horns in the court. And who fhould find them but the Emprefs' villain. She laugh'd and told the Moor, he should not chuse But give them to his mafter for a prefent.

Tit. Why there it goes. God give your Lordship joy!
Enter a Clown with a basket and two pigeons.

News, news from heav'n; Marcus, the poft is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have juftice? what fays Jupiter?

Clown. Who? the gibbet-maker? he fays, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week.

Tit. Tut, what fays Jupiter, 1 afk thee?`
Clown. Alas, Sir, I know not Jupiter;

I never drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clown. Ay, of my pigeons, Sir; nothing elfe. Tit. Why, didit thou not come from heav'n? Clown. From heav'n? alas, Sir, I never came there. God forbid I should be fo bold to prefs into heav'n in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the Tribunal Plebs *, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the Emperial's men.

Mar. Why, Sir, that is as fit as can be to ferve for your oration, and let him deliver the pigeons to the Emperor from you.

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the Emperor with a grace?

Clown. Nay, truly, Sir, I could never fay grace in all my life.

Tit. Sirrah, come hither, make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the Emperor.

He means to fay, Tribunus Plebis.

By

By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.

Hold, hold-mean while, here's money for thy charges.
Give me a pen and ink.

Sirrah, can you with grace a deliver a fupplication?
Clown. Ay, Sir.

Tit. Then, here is a fupplication for you: and when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kifs his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, Sir; fee you do it bravely.

Clown. I warrant you, Sir, let me alone.

Tit. Sirrah, haft thou a knife? Come, let me fee it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration,

For thou haft made it like an humble fuppliant;
And when thou haft given it the Emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
Clown. God be with you, Sir, I will.

Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go.

Publius, follow me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The palace.

Enter Emperor, and Emprefs, and her two fons; the Em peror brings the arrows in his hand that Titus fhot.

Sat. Why, Lords, what wrongs are these? was ever

An Emperor of Rome thus overborne,

Troubled, confronted thus, and for th' extent
Of equal justice, us'd in fuch contempt ?

My Lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,

(However the disturbers of our peace

[feen

Buzz in the people's ears), there nought hath pafs'd,
But even with law againft the wilful fons
Of old Andronicus. And what an' if
His forrows have fo overwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his freaks,
His fits, his phrenzy, and his bitterness,
And now he writes to heav'n for his redrefs.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury,
This to Apollo, this to the god of war.

Sweet fcrowls, to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injuftice ev'ry where?

A

A goodly humour, is it not, my Lords?
As who would fay, in Rome no juftice were,
But if I live, his feigned ecftafies

Shall be no fhelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know, that Juftice lives
In Saturninus' health; whom, if the sleep,
He'll fo awake, as fhe in fury shall

Cut off the proud'ft confpirator that lives.

Tam. My gracious Lord, moft lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thought,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th' effects of forrow for his valiant fons,

Whofe lofs hath pierc'd him deep, and fcarr'd his heart;
And rather comfort his diftreffed plight,
Than profecute the meanest, or the best,

For these contempts-Why, thus it fhall become
High-witted Tamora to glofe with all:

But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all fafe, the anchor's in the port.

Enter Clown.

[Afide

How now, good fellow, would't thou fpeak with us? Clo. Yea, forfooth, an' your Milterfhip be Emperial. Tam. Emprefs I am, but yonder fits the Emperor. Clo. 'Tis he: God and St. Stephen give you good

e'en :

I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [He reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently.

Clo. How much money muft I have?

Tam. Come, firrah, thou must be hang'd.

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

Sat. Defpightful and intolerable wrongs!
Shall I endure this monftrous villany?

I know from whence this fame device proceeds:
May this be borne as if his traiterous fons,
That dy'd by law for murther of our brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair,

[Exit.

Nor