This minion stood upon her chastity,
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,

And with that painted hope braves your mighti

ness:

And shall she carry this unto her grave?

Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. Tam. But when you have the honey you desire,

Let not this wasp out-live, us both to sting.
Chi. I warrant you, madam; we will make
that sure.-

Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy
That nice-preserved honesty of yours.

Lav. O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,

Tam. I will not hear her speak; away with her. Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

Tam. What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let me go.

Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more,

That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit;
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:

No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.

Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long. Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly

creature!

The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall-

Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth :-Bring thou her husband;

[Dragging off Lavinia.

To see her tears; but be your heart to them,
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.

Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam ?

O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee: The milk thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble;

Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.—
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike;
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.

To Chiron. Chi. What! would'st thou have me prove myself a bastard?

Lav. "Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark:

Yet have I heard, (O could I find it now!)
The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure
To have his princely paws par'd all away.
Some say, that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests :
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!.

Tam. I know not what it means; away with her.

Lav. O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake,

That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,

Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

Tam. Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless—

Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain,
To save your brother from the sacrifice;
But fierce Andronicus would not relent:
Therefore away with her, and use her as you

will;

The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Lav. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place: For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long; Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died.

[Exeunt. Tam. Farewell, my sons: see, that you make her sure:

Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r.
[Exit.

SCENE IV.-The same.

Enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS. Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot before:

Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. Mart. And mine, I promise you; wer't not for shame,

Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. [Martius falls into the pit. Quin. What, art thou fallen? What subtle

hole is this,

Mart. Toprove thou hast a true-divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate
heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise:
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis
he?

Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of this pit: So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand,If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;

Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without
thy help.

Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,

Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.

[Falls in.

Enter SATURNINUS and AARON.

Sat. Along with me:-I'll see what hole is here,

And what he is, that now is leap'd into it.-
Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus;
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound;

Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, [Giving a letter.

The complot of this timeless tragedy;
And wonder greatly that man's face can fold
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.

Sat. [Reads. An if we miss to meet him handsomely,

Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean,-
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him;
Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward
Among the nettles at the elder tree,
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit,
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.
O, Tamora! was ever heard the like?
This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out,
That should have murder'd Bassianus here.
Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.

Showing it.

Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tit. fell curs

of bloody kind,

Have here bereft my brother of his life :Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; There let them bide, until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. Tam. What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing!

How easily murder is discovered!

Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons,Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,———

Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.

Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail: For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, They shall be ready at your highness' will, To answer their suspicion with their lives.

Sat. Thou shalt not bail them; see, thou follow me.

Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur

derers:

Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain;

but jest ;

He and his lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Mart. We know not where you left him all alive,

But, out alas! here have we found him dead. Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and LUCIUS.

Tam. Where is my lord the king? Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing grief.

Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus ?

And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can

scowl.

Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.

Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash ;

And so let's leave her to her silent walks.

Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself.

Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.

[Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. Enter MARCUS.

Mar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so fast?

Cousin, a word; where is your husband?-
If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake
me!

If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Of her two branches? those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to
sleep in ;

And might not gain so great a happiness,
As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflower'd thee;

tongue.

Ah! now thou turn'st away thy face for shame
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,-
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,―
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, 'tis so?
O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
That I might rail at him to ease my mind!
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That better could have sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them;
He would not then have touch'd them for his
life:

Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind:
For such a sight will blind a father's eye:
One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father's
eyes?

Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee;
O, could our mourning ease thy misery!

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Rome. A street.

Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; TITUS going before, pleading.

Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!

For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought!
For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed.
For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
[Throwing himself on the ground.

VOL. II.

[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with
the prisoners.

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.
O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men !
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.

Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain;
2 D

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 plead: Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear,

They would not mark me; or, if they did mark,
All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet, in some sort, they're better than the tri-
bunes,

For that they will not intercept my tale:
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than

stones:

A stone is silent and offendeth not; And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.

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?

Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;

I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blab'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?

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer, That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound. Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her,

Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead:
For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone:
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man;
And here my brother, weeping at my woes;
But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.-
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me; What shall I do
Now I behold thy lively body so?

Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death,
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:-
Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Mar. 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,

Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.

Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!

Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.-
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;
Or make some signs how I may do thee ease:

her:

Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea?
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st,
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.-
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have serv'd me to effectless use:
Now, all the service I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.-
"Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.

And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain;
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd; like meadows, yet not dry
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some device of further misery,
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

Mar. 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 signs:

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother which I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
0, what a sympathy of woe is this?
As far from help as limbo is from bliss!

Enter AARON.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word,-That if thou love thy

sons,

Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
And send it to the king: he for the same,
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
And that shall be the ransome for their fault.
Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor
My hand:

Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of
thine,

That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defend-

ed Rome,

And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemies' castles?
O, none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
To ransome my two nephews from their death:
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along,

For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand shall go.

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. Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy

son,

Let me redeem my brothers both from death. Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's care,

Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both;

Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so ;But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [Aside. He cuts off Titus's hand. Enter LUCIUS and MARCUS.

Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is despatch'd.

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers: bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and, for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:-
Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villainy

Aside.
Doth fat me with the very thought of it?
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.

[Exit.

Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:

If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call:-What, wilt thou kneel with me? [To Lavinia. Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our

prayers;

Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

Mar. 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.
Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament.
Tit. If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes:
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth
o'erflow?

If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the carth:
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:
For why? my bowels cannot hide her wous,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues