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Aar. Villain, I've done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou haft undone Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice, Accurs'd the offspring of fo foul a fiend!

Chi. It fhall not live.

Aar. It fhall not die.

the mother wills it fo.

Nur. Aaron, it muft; Aar. What, muft it, nurse ? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood.

Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point;
Nurfe, give it me, my fword fhall foon dispatch it.
Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up.
Stay, murderous villains, will
you kill
your brother?
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,
That fhone fo brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my fcymitar's fharp point,
That touches this my first-born fon and heir.
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus
With all his threatning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,

Shall feize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what, ye fanguine fhallow-hearted boys,
Ye white-lim'd walls, ye alehouse painted figns,
Coal-black is better than another hue:

In that it fcorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean

Can never turn the fwan's black legs to white,
Although the lave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the Emprefs from me, I am of age
To keep mine own; excufe it, how the can.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?
Aar. My miftrefs is my miftrefs; this, myself;
The vigour and the picture of my youth.
This, before all the world do I prefer ;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep fafe;
Or fome of you fall fmoke for it in Rome.
Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd.

To fee alike mine honour, as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
Which should undo more doing.

Winter's Tale

Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul escape.
Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignominy.

Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears:
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counfels of the heart!
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer,

Look, how the black flave fmiles upon the father;
As who fhould fay, "old lad, I am thine own.”➡
He is your brother, Lords; fenfibly fed

Of that felf-blood, that first gave life to you;
And from that womb, where you imprison'd were,
He is infranchised and come to light:

Nay, he's your brother by the furer fide;
Although my feal be ftamped in his face.

Nur. Aaron, what fhall I fay unto the Empress
Dem. Advife thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice:
Save thou the child, fo we may be all fafe.

Aar. Then fit we down and let us all confult.
My fon and I will have the wind of you:
Keep there now talk at pleasure of your fafety.
[They fit on the ground,
Dem. How many women faw this child of his?
Aar. Why, fo, brave Lords; when we all join in league
I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean fwells not fo as Aaron forms;
But fay again, how many faw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself-
And no one elfe but the deliver'd Emprefs.

Aar. The Emprefs, the midwife, and yourselfTwo may keep counfel, when the third's away: Go to the Emprefs, tell her, this I faid- [He kills here Week,-week-fo cries a pig, prepar'd to th' fpit. Dem. What mean'ft thou, Aaron ? wherefore didst thou Aar. O Lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of policy: "[this? Shall the live to betray this guilt of ours? A long-tongu'd babling goffip? no, Lords, no. And now be it known to you my full intent:

Not

Not far, one Muliteus lives, my country-man,
His wife but yefternight was brought to bed,
His child is like to her, fair as you are:
Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumflance of all;
And how by this their child fhall be advanc'd,
And be received for the Emp'ror's heir,
And fubftituted in the place of mine,

To calm this tempeft whirling in the court;
And let the Emperor dandle him for his own.

Hark ye, my Lords, ye fee, I have given her phyfick;

And you muft needs beftow her funeral;

The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
This done, fee, that you take no longer days,
But fend the midwife presently to me.

The midwife and the nurse well made away,
Then let the Ladies tattle what they please.
Chi. Aaron, I fee thou wilt not trust the air
With fecrets.

Dem. For this care of Tamora,

Hertelf and hers are highly bound to thee.

[Exeunt

Aar. Now to the Goths, as fwift as swallow flies,
There to difpofe this treasure in my arms,
And fecretly to greet the Emprefs' friends.
Come on, you thick-lip'd flave, I bear you hence,
For it is you, that put us to our fhifts:
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey, and fuck the goat,
And cabin in a cave, and bring you up

To be a warrior, and command a camp.

SCENE, a Street near the Palace.

[Exit.

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other Gentlemen with bows; and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come, Marcus, come; kinfmen, this is the way.

Sir boy, now let me fee your archery. Look, ye draw home enough, and 'tis there ftraight; Terras Aftraa reliquit-be you remember'd, Marcus

She's

She's gone, fhe's fled-Sirs, take you to your tools;
You, coufins, fhall go found the ocean,

And caft your nets; haply, you may find her in the fea,
Yet there's as little juftice as at land-

No, Publius and Sempronius; you must do it,
'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,
And pierce the inmoft center of the earth:
Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
I pray you deliver this petition,

Tell him, it is for juftice, and for aid;
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with forrows in ungrateful Rome.
Ah, Rome!-Well, well, I made thee miserable,
What time I threw the people's fuffrages
On him, that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
Go, get you gone, and, pray, be careful all,
And leave you not a man of war unfearch'd;
This wicked Emperor may have ship'd her hence,
And, kinfmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. Oh Publius, is not this a heavy cafe,
To fee thy noble uncle thus diftract?

Pub. Therefore, my Lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night t' attend him carefully:

And feed his humour kindly as we may,

'Till time beget fome careful remedy.

Mar. Kinfmen, his forrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my mafters,
What, have you met with her?

Pub. No, my good Lord, but Pluto fends you word, If you will have revenge from hell, you fhall:

Marry, for juftice, fhe is fo employ'd,

He thinks, with Jove in heav'n, or fomewhere else;
So that perforce you must needs ftay a time.

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
I'll dive into the burning lake below,

And pull her out of Acheron by th' heels.
Marcus, we are but fhrubs, no cedars we,

No

No big-bon❜d men, fram'd of the Cyclops fize;
But metal, Marcus, fteel to th' very back;

Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear;
And fith there's no juftice in earth nor hell,
We will folicit heav'n, and move the gods,
To fend down juftice for to wreak our wrongs:
Come, to this gear; you're a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows,
Ad Jovem, that's for you-here, ad Apollinem--
Ad Martem, that's for myself;

Here, boy, to Pallas-here, to Mercury-
To Saturn and to Cælus-not to Saturnine-
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy, Marcus-loofe when I bid:
Of my word I have written to effect,
There's not a god left unfollicited.

Mar. Kinfmen, fhoot all your fhafts into the court,

We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.

Tit. Now, mafters, draw; oh, well faid,

Good Boy, in Virgo's lap, give it Pallas.

[They Shoot. Lucius :

Mar. My Lord, I am a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what haft thou done? See, fee, thou'ft shot off one of Taurus' horns.

Mar. This was the sport, my Lord; when Publius fhot, The bull being gall'd, gave Aries fuch a knock, That down fell both the ram's horns in the court, And who should find them, but the Emprefs' villain: She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he fhould not chufe But give them to his mafter for a prefent.

Tit. Why there it goes. God give your Lordship joy!

Enter a Clown with a basket and two pigeons.
News, news from heav'n; Marcus, the poft is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters ?
Shall I have juftice, what fays Jupiter?

Clow. Who? the gibbet-maker? he fays, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week.

Tit. Tut, what fays Jupiter, I ask thee?

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