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My Lord, look here ; look here, Lavinia.
(He writes his name with his staff, and guides it witla

bis feet and mouth.
This sandy plot is plain ; guide, if thou can'it,
This after me, when I have writ my name,
Without the help of any hand at all.
Curst be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!
Write thou, good niece; and here display, at least,

What God will have discover'd for revenge ;
# Heav'n guide thy pen, to print thy forrows plain,

That we may know the traitors, and the truth !
[She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her

stumps, and writes.
Tit. Oh, do you read, my Lord, what she hath writ?
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.

Mar. What, what !-the luftful fons of Tamora
Performers of this hateful bloody deed ?

Tit. Magne Dominator Poli, (20)
Tam lentus audis fcelera! tam lentus vides !

Mar. Oh calm, thee, gentle Lord ; although, I know,
There is enough written upon this earth,
To ftir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My Lord, kneel down with me : Lavinia kneel,

(20)

Magni Dominator Poli, Tam lentus audis Scelera! tam lentus vides ! ] Thus this quotation has pafsd thro' all the printed copies, as well those put out by the players, as those by the more learned editors. The latter of these verses is copied from the Hippolitus of Seneca; but the address to Jupiter there, which precedes it, is in these terms-Magne Regnator Deum,

Tam lentus audis scelera ! &c. Where Shakespeare (or whoever else was the author of this play) met with the hemiftich lubstituted in the place of Seneca's, I can't pretend to say. But were our poetical editors so little acquainted with the numbers of a common Tambic, as to let

Mag- | ni Domi- | nator | Poli,
pass them without fufpicion? have they ever observ'd a daktyl in the
fourth foot of an lambic verse, either in the Greek tragedians, or in
Seneca ? if not, I must believe, our author found this bemiftich thus :

Mag- | ne Domi- | nator | Poli,
Thus the 4th foot is a Tribrachys, (and equal in time to an Iambic) a
licence perpetually taken by all the tragic poets,
L6

And

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And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hektor's hope, -
And swear with me, (as, with the woeful peer,
And father, of that chaite dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape)
That He will prosecule (by good advice) (21)
Mortal revenge upon these traiterous Goths ;
And see their blood, ere die with this reproach.

Tit. "Tis sure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake ; and if she wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply still in league ;
And lulls him whilst the playeth on her back,
And, when he sleeps, will the do what she list.
You're a young huntsinan, Marcus, let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of feet will write these words,
And lay it by; the angry northern wind
Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad,
And where's your lesson then? boy, what say your

Loy. I say, my Lord, tha. if I were a man,
Tleir mother's bed-chamber should not be safe,
For these bad bond-men to the yoke of Rome.

Mor. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full off
For this ungrateful country done the like.

Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go

with me into my armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
(21) That we will prosecute (by good advice

Márial revenge upon these traiterous Goths ;

dic Jie skeir blood, or die with this reproach.) But if they eno deavour'd to throw off the reproach, tho' they fell in the attempty they could not be properly said to die with that reproach. Marcus must certainly mean, that they would have revenge on their enemies, and spill their blood, rather than they would tamely fit down, and die, under such injuries. For this reason I have corrected the text,

ere die with this reproach. And the same emendation I have made on a passage in Cymbeline, where it was as abrulutely necessary. I am not to learn, that or formerly was equivalent to cre.---

---Or, befora, ere : Glofi. to Urrey's Caucer.---Or, for ere : quod etiamnum in agro Lincolnienfi frequeno tilsime usurpatur. Skinner in bis Glossary of uncommon words.---But this ulage was too obsolete for our Shakespeare's time,

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Shall

Shall carry from me to the Empress' fons
Presents, that I intend to send them both.
Come, come, thou'lt do my message, wilt thou not?

Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosom, grandsire,

Tit. No, boy, not so ; I'll teach thee another course.
Lavinia, come ; Marcus, look to my house :
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court,
Ay, marry, will we, Şir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt.

Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
That hath more scars of forrow in his heart,
Than foe-mens marks upon his batter'd shield;
But

yet so just, that he will not revenge ; Revenge the heav'ns for old Andronicus ! [Exit.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door : and

at another door young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons and verses writ upon them.

Chi.

He hath some message to deliver us. Aar. Ay, some mad meflage from his mad grandfather.

B:y. My Lords, with all the humbleness I may, 1

greet your honours from Andronicus ; And pray the Roman gods, confound you

both. Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news ?

Boy. That you are both decypherd (that's the news) For villains mark'd with rape." May it please you, My grandfire, well advis’d, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury, To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome ; for fo he bade me say: And so I do, and with his gifts present Your Lordships, that whenever you have need,

be armed and appointed well. And so I leave you both, like bloody villains. [Exit. Ders. What's here, a scroll, and written round about?

Let's

You

may

4

Let's see.
Integer vitæ, fcelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi. 0, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well :.
I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay, juft ;-a verse in Horace-right, you have it Now, what a thing it is to be an ass ? Here's no fond jeft; the old man hath found their guilt,(22) And sends the weapons wrap'd about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick: But were our witty Empress well a-foot, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: But let her rest in her unreft awhile. And now, young Lords, was’t not a happy ftar Led us to Rome strangers, and more than so, Captives, to be advanced to this height? It did me good before the palace-gate To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.

Dem. But me more good, to fee fo great a Lord Bafely infinuate, and send us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius ? Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our luft.

Chi. A charitable with, and full of love.
Aar. Here lacketh but your mother to say Amen.
Chi. And that would the for twenty thousand more,

Dem. Come, let us go, and pray to all the gods
For our beloved mother in her pains.
Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.

(Flourish.
Dem. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourish thus ?
Chi. Belike, for joy the Emp'ror hath a son.
Dem. Soft, who comes here?

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(22) Here's no found jeft;] But, I think, I may venture to say, here's no found lense. Doubtless, the poet wrote, bere's no fond jeft

; i. e, no idle, foolish one; but a sarcasm deliberately thrown, and grounded on reason. 22

Enter

Enter Nurse, with a Black-a

-a-moor child. Nur. Good-morrow, Lords : O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now ?

Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone: Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

Aar. Why, what a caterwauling doft thou keep: What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?

Nur. O that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our Empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace. She is deliver'd, Lords, she is deliver'd.

Aar. To whom
Nur. I mean she is brought to bed.

Aar. Well, God give her good reft!
What hath he sent her?

Nur. A devi).
Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam: a joyful issue

Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue.
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad,
Amongst the faireft breeders of our clime.
The Empress fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal,
And bids thee chriften it with thy dagger's point,

Aar. Out, out, you whore ! is black fo base a hue ! Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

Dem. Villain, what hast thou done?
Aar. That which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother. (23)

dar. (23) Chi. Tbou baft undone our mother.

Dem. And therein, bellijo dog, thou hast undone. -] There is no necessity for this break, had our editors collated the old quarto, and restor’d the supplemental half line which I have added from thence. They did not, I dare say, suppress it out of modesty. It contains à mode of expression, which, tho' somewhat coarse, is used by our author in other places.

Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison.
Bawd. Well; what has he done?
Clown,

Meaf, for Meas
-who, if I
ants true about me, that bear eyes

TO

A woman.

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