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Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; Titus. ANDRONI
cus, and Lucius. Tam. Where is my lord, the king? Sat. Here, Tamora; though griey'd with killing
grief. Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus ? Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my
wound; Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
[Giving a Letter. The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. Sat. [Reads.] An if we miss to meet him hand
somely,Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean,Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder tree, Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. 0, 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 murder'd Bassianus here. Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold,
[Showing it. Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tit.] fell curs of
bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life:7 Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison;
timeless) i.e. untimely.
There let them bide, until we have devis'd.
Tit. High 'emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,
Sat. If it be prov'd ! you see, it is apparent.Who found this letter? Tainora, was it you?
Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up.
Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail :
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them ; see, thou follow
Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur
derers : Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed. .
Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king ; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.
Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA, ra-,
vished; her Hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd theę.
Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning
SO; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can
scowl. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy
hands. Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to
And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the
[Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON.
Enter MARCUS. Mar. Who's this,~my niece, that flies away so
between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath.
If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me ..) If this be a dream, I would give áll my possessions to be delivered from it by waking. : Johnson.
But, sure, some Tereus hath defloured thee;
'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp’d, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind : But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could have better sew'd than Philomel. O, had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them; He would not then haye touch'd them for his life : Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. Come, let us go, and inake thy father blind ; For such a sight will blind a father's eye ; One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ; What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes ? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt,
- Thracian poet's-] Orpheus.
SCENE I. Rome. A Street.
Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice,
with MARTIus and Quintus, bound, passing on to the Place of Execution ; Titus going before, pleading
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, 'stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought !! For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour's lofty bed. For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write
[Throwing himself on the Ground. My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. [Exeunt Senators, Tribunes; c. with the