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This way, or not at all, stand
in hope. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred' wit, To villainy and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend ; And she shall file our engines with advice, That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes' height advance you both. The emperor's court is like the house of fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears : The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull; There speak, and strike, shadow'd from heaven's
eye, And revel with Lavinia.
Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.
Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find a charm To calm these fits, per Styga, per manes vehor.
A Forest near Rome. A Lodge seen at a distance.
Horns, and cry of Hounds heard.
Enter Titus ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c.
MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and Martius.
* Sacred here signifies accursed; a Latinisın.
I have been troubled in my sleep this night,
BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS,
Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords,
say, no; I have been broad awake two hours and more. Sat. Come on then, horse and chariots let us
have, And to our sport:- Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting.
[To TamoRA. Marc.
I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top. Tit. And I have horse will follow where the
game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor
hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt.
A desert Part of the Forest.
Enter Aaron, with a Bag of Gold. Aar. He, that had wit, would think that I had
none, To bury so much gold under a tree,
And never after to inherit’ it.
[Hides the Gold. That have their alms out of the empress' chest.
Enter TAMORA. Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou
sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chaunt melody on every bush ; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a checquer'd shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise : Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious
Hark, Tamora, - the
of Which never hopes more heaven than rests in
thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus ; His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day : Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up I pray thee, And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll : Now question me no more, we are espied ; Here comes a parcels of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. Tan. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than
life! Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes : Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatso'er they be.
Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA.
Bas. Who have we here ? Rome's royal em
Tam. Saucy controller of our private steps !
Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 'Tis to be doubted, that
Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments : Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag.
4 See Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book VI,
Bas. Believe me, quèen, your swarth Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his body's hue. Why are you sequester'd from all your train ? Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed, And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied with a barbarous Moor?
Lav. My noble lord, I pray you let us hence, And let her 'joy her raven-colour'd love. Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of
this. Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted
long : Good king ! to be so mightily abus'd!
Tam. Why have I patience to endure all this?
Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS. Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious
mother, Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
Tam. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have ʼtic'd me hither to this place, A barren detested vale, you see, it is : The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss, and baneful misletoe. Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins.", Would make such fearful and confused cries, As
any mortal body, hearing it, Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But straight they told me, they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew ;