Manet Lucius. Luc. Farewel, Andronicus, my noble father, O, would thou wert as thou tofore haft been? If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs, [Exit Lucius. SCENE, an Apartment in Titus's House. A Banquet. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young Lucius, a Boy. O, fo, now fit; and look, you eat no more Tit. Than will preserve juft fo much ftrength in us, As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus, unknit that forrow-wreathen knot; With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine And when my heart, all mad with mifery, Then thus I thump it down. Thou map of woe, that thus doft talk in figns! Drown Drown the lamenting fool in fea-falt tears. - Mar. Fie, brother, fie, teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life. Tit. How now! has forrow made thee doat already? How Troy was burnt, and he made miferable? She says, the drinks no other drink but tears, As begging hermits in their holy prayers. And by ftill practice learn to know thy meaning. Tit. Peace, tender fapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. [Marcus ftrikes the dish with a knife. What doft thou ftrike at, Marcus, with thy knife? Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my Lord, a fly. Tit. Out on thee, murderer; thou kill'ft my heart, Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: A deed of death done on the innocent Becomes not Titus' brother; get thee gone, I fee, thou art not for my company. L 4 Mar. Mar. Alas, my Lord, I have but kill'd a fly: Tit. But-how if that fly had a father and mother How would he hang his flender gilded wings, And buz lamenting dolings in the air? (19) Poor harmless fly, That with his pretty buzzing melody, Caine here to make us merry; And thou haft kill'd him. Mar. Pardon me, Sir, it was a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the Emprefs' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou haft done a charitable deed; That comes in likeness of a cole.black Moor. Mar. Alas, poor man, grief has fo wrought on him He takes falfe fhadows for true fubftances. Come, take away; Lavinia, go with me; [Exeunt. (19) And bux lamenting doings in the air.] Lamenting doings is a very idle expreffion, and conveys no idea. The alteration, which I have made, tho' it is but the addition of a fingle letter, is a great increase to the fenfe: and tho', indeed, there is fomewhat of a tautology in the epithet and fubftantive annext to it, yet that's no new thing with our author. I remember one of the very fame kind in his Locrine. And gnash your teeth with dolorous laments, SCENE, Titus's Houfe. Enter young Lucius, and Lavinia running after him; and the boy fiies from her, with his books under his arm. Enter Titus, and Marcus. Boy. Elp, grandfire, help; my aunt Lavinia Can't thou not guess wherefore the plies thee thus? Unless fome fit or frenzy do poffefs her: For I have heard my grandfire fay full oft, Ran mad through forrow; that made me to fear; And would not, but in fury, fright my youth; I will most willingly attend your Ladyship. Mar. Mar. Lucius, I will. \ Tit. How now, Lavinia? Marcus, what means this? Mar. I think, fhe means, that there was more than one Mar. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps, the cull'd it from among the reft. Tit. Soft! fee, how bufily fhe turns the leaves! Help her: what would fhe find? Lavinia, fhall I read ? This is the tragick tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treafon and his rape; And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. Mar. See, brother, fee; note, how the quotes the leaves. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus furpriz'd, fweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd as Philomela was, Forc'd in the ruthlefs, vaft, and gloomy woods? Ay, fuch a place there is, where we did hunt, Mar. O, why should nature build fo foul a den, Tit. Give figns, fweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman Lord it was durft do the deed Or flunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erft, ; Mar. Sit down, fweet niece; brother, fit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Inspire me, that I may this treafon find. My |