And with thine own Hands kill me in this Place;
For 'tis not Life that I have begg'd fo long ;
Poor I was flain when Baffianus dy'd.
Tam. What begg'ft thou then? Fond Woman, let me go. Lav. 'Tis prefent Death I beg, and one thing more, That Womanhood denies my Tongue to tell:
O keep me from their worse than killing Luft,
And tumble me into fome loathfom Pit,
Where never Man's Eye may behold my Body:
Do this, and be a charitable Murderer.
Tam. So fhould I rob my sweet Sons of their Fee,
No, let them fatis fie their Luft on thee.
Dem. Away.
For thou haft ftaid us here too long.
No Woman-hood? Ah beastly Creature,
The blot and Enemy of our general Name;
Confufion all-
Chi. Nay, then I'll ftop your Mouth-
Bring thou her Husband:
[Dragging off Lavinia. [Exeunt. Tam. Farewel, my Sons, fee that ye make her fure; Ne'er let my Heart know merry Cheer indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away: Now will I hence to feek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful Sons this Trull deflour.
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
Enter Aaron, with Quintus and Marcus.
Aaron. Come on, my Lords, the better Foot before, Strait will I bring you to the loathsom Pit,
Where I efpied the Panther fast asleep.
Quin. My fight is very dull, what e'er it bodes.
Mar. And mine, I promise you; were it not for fhame,
Well could I leave our Sport to fleep a while.
Quin. What, art thou fallen?
What fubtle Hole is this,
[Marcus falls into the Pit.
Whose Mouth is covered with rude growing Briars?
Upon whofe Leaves are drops of new-fhed Blood,
As fresh as Morning Dew diftill'd on Flowers?
A very fatal Place it feems to me:
Speak, Brother, haft thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mar. O Brother,
With the difmal'ft Object
That ever Eye, with fight, made Heart lament.
Aar. Now will I fetch the King to find them here, That he thereby may have a likely guess,
How these were they that made away his Brother.
[Exit Aaron. Mar. Why doft not comfort me, and help me out, From this unhallow'd and blood-ftained Hole?
Quin. I am furprized with an uncouth fear;
A killing Sweat o'er-runs my trembling Joints;
My Heart fufpects more than mine Eye can fee.
Mar. To prove thou haft a true divining Heart,
Aaron and thou, look down into the Den,
And see a fearful fight of Bood and Death.
Quin. Aaron is gone,
And my compaffionate Heart
Will not permit mine Eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by furmife:
O tell me how it is; for ne'er till now,
Was I a Child, to fear I know not what.
Mar. Lord Baffianus lyes embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to the flaughter'd Lamb,
In this detefted, dark, blood-drinking Pit.
Quin. If it be dark, how do'ft thou know 'tis he?
Mar. Upon his bloody Finger he doth wear
A precious Ring, that lightens all the Hole:
Which like a Taper in fome Monument,
Doth fhine upon the dead Man's earthly Cheeks,
And fhews the ragged intrails of the Pit.
So pale did fhine the Moon on Pyramus,
When he by night lay bath'd in Maiden-blood.
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 mifty Mouth.
Quin. Reach me thy Hand, that I may help thee out, Or wanting ftrength, to do thee fo much good,
I may be pluck'd into the fwallowing Womb
Of this deep Pit, poor Baffianus Grave;
I have no ftrength to pluck thee to the brink.
Mar. Nor I no ftrength to climb without thy help?
Quin. Thy hand once more, I will not lofe again, 'Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou can'ft not come to me, I come to thee. [Both fall in.
Enter the Emperor and Aaron.
Sat. Along with me, I'll fee what Hole is here,
And what he is that now is leap'd into it.
Say, who art thou that lately didft defcend
Into this gaping Hollow of the Earth?
Mar. The unhappy Son of old Andronicus,
Brought hither in a moft unlucky Hour,
To find thy Brother Baffianus dead.
Sat. My Brother dead? I know thou doft but jeft,
He and his Lady both are at the Lodge,
Upon the North-fide of this pleasant Chase, 'Tis not an hour fince I left him there.
Mar. We know not where you left him all alive, But out, alas, here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius.
Tam. Where is my Lord, the King?
Sat. Here Tamora, though griev'd with killing Grief.
Tam. Where is thy Brother Baffianus?
Sat. Now to the bottom doft thou fearch my Wound, Poor Baffianus here lyes murthered.
Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal Writ,
The complot of this timeless Tragedy,
And wonder greatly that Man's Face can fold
In pleafing fmiles fuch murderous Tyranny.
[She giveth Saturninus a Letter.
Saturninus reads the Letter.
And if we miss to meet him handfomly,
Sweet Huntfman, Baffianus, 'tis we mean,
Do thou fo much as dig the Grave for him,
Thou know'st our meaning, look for thy reward
Among the Nettles at the Elder-tree:
Which over-fhades the mouth of that fame Pit,
Where we decreed to bury Baffianus;
Do this, and purchase us thy lafting Friends.
Sat. Oh 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 murthered Baffianus here.
Aar. My gracious Lord, here is the Bag of Gold.
Sat. Two of thy Whelps, 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?
Oh wondrous thing!
How eafily Murder is difcovered?
Tit. High Emperor, upon my feeble Knee,
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly fhed,
That this fell fault of my accurfed Sons,
Accurfed, if the faults be prov'd in them-
Sat. If it be prov'd? you fee 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 fhall be ready at your Highness Will,
To answer their Sufpicion with their lives.
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them, fee thou follow me:
Some bring the murther'd Body, fome the Murtherers.
Let them not speak a word, the Guilt is plain,
For by my Soul, were there worse end than Death,
That end upon them fhould be executed,
Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the King,
Fear not thy Sons, they fhall do well enough.
Tit. Come, Lucius, come,
Stay not to talk with them.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron, with Lavinia, her Hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out, and ravish'd. Dem. So now go tell, and if thy Tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy Tongue and ravish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning fo, And, if thy Stumps will let thee, play the Scribe. Dem. See how with figns and tokens fhe can fowl. Chi. Go home,
Call for fweet Water, wash thy hands.
Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And fo let's leave her to her filent Walks.
Chi. And 'twere my Caufe, I fhould go hang my felf.
Dem. If thou had'lt Hands to help thee knit the Cord.
[Exeunt.
Wind Horns. Enter Marcus from Hunting, to Lavinia.
Mar. Who is this, my Niece, that flies away fo faft?
Coufin, a Word, where is your Husband?
If I do dream, would all my Wealth would wake me;
If I do wake, fome Planet frike me down,
That I may lumber in eternal Sleep.
Speak, gentle Niece, what ftern ungentle Hands
Hath lop'd and hew'd, and made thy Body bare
Of her two Branches, thofe fweet Ornaments,
Whose circling Shadows Kings have fought to fleep in,
And might not gain fo great a Happiness,
As half thy Love! Why do'ft not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson River of warm Blood,
Like to a bubling Fountain ftirr'd with Wind,
Doth rife and fall between thy rofy Lips,
Coming and going with thy Honey Breath.
But fure fome Tereus hath deflour'd thee,
And left thou should'ft detect him, cut thy Tongue,
Ah, now thou turn'ft away thy Face for Shame!
And notwithstanding all this lofs of Blood,
As from a Conduit with their iffuing Spouts,
Yet do thy Cheeks look red as Titan's Face,
Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,
Shall I fpeak for thee? Shall I fay, 'tis fo?
Oh that I knew thy Heart, and knew the Beast,
That I might rail at him to eafe my mind.
Sorrow concealed, like an Oven stopt,
Doth burn the Heart to Cindars where it is.
Fair Philomela, fhe but loft her Tongue,
And in a tedious Sampler fewed her mind.
But lovely Niece, that mean is cut from thee,
A craftier Tereus haft thou met withall,
And he hath cut those pretty Fingers off
That could have better fewed that Philomel.
Oh had the Monster feen thofe Lilly Hands
Tremble like Afpen Leaves upon a Lute,
And make the filken Strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch'd them for his Life.
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