The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop:
The forest walks are wide and spacious;
And many unfrequented plots there are,
Fitted by kind for rape and villany:
Single you thither then this dainty doe,
And strike her home by force, if not by words:
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit,
To villany and vengeance consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend;
And she shall file our engines with advice,
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,
But to your wishes' height advance you both.
The emperor's court is like the house of fame,
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears:
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull;
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take
[eye,
There serve your lust, shadow'd from heaven's
And revel in Lavinia's treasury.

your turns:

Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the steam To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, Per Styga, per manes vehor.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

A Forest near Rome. A lodge seen at a distance. Horns, and cry of Hounds heard. Enter Titus Andronicus, with Hunters, &c. Marcas, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and gray, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green: Uncouple her, and let us make a bay, And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, And rouse the prince; and ring a hunter's peal, That all the court may echo with the noise. Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, To tend the emperor's person carefully: I have been troubled in my sleep this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. Horns wind a Peal. Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and

Enter Tamora.

Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou
sad,
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast 7
The birds chant melody on every bush;
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun;
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And-whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well tun'd horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,-
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise:
And-after conflict, such as was suppos'd
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,-
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms.
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
While hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious
birds,

Be unto us, as is a nurse's song
Of lullably, to bring her babe asleep.

Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your de sires, Saturn is dominator over mine;

What signifies my deadly standing eye,
My silence, and my cloudy melancholy?
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls,
Even as an adder, when she doth unroll
To do some fatal execution ?

No, madam, these are no venereal signs;
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
Hark, Tamora,-the empress of my soul,
Which never hopes more heaven than rest in
thee,
This is the day of doom for Bassianus ;
His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day:
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity,
And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood.
Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee,
And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll:-
Now question me no more, we are espied;
Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty,
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction.
Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than
life!

Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes;
Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be.

[Erit

Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. Bas. Who have we here? Rome's royal emperess,

Unfurnish'd of her well beseeming troop?
Or is it Dian, habited like her;
Who hath abandoned her holy groves,
To see the general hunting in this forest ?

Tam. Saucy controller of our private steps!
Had I the power, that, some say, Dian had,
Thy temples should be planted presently
With horns, as was Acteon's; and the hounda
Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs,
Unmannerly intruder as thou art!

Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning; And to be doubted, that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments: Jove shield your husband from his hounds today!

"Tis pity, they should take him for a stag.
Bas. Believe ine, queen, your swarth Cimme
rian

Doth make your honour of his body's hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable."
Why are you sequester'd from all your train?
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed,
And wander'd hither to an obscure plot,
Accompanied with a barbarous Moor,
If foul desire had not conducted you?

Lav. And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness.-I pray you, let us hence, And let her 'joy her raven-colour'd love; This valley fits the purpose passing well."

Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of

this.

Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:

Good king; to be so mightily abus'd!

The milk, thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble;

Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.-
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike;
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.

[To Chiron.

Chi. What would'st thou have me prove my. self a bastard?

Lav. 'Tis true: the raven doth not hatch a lark; Yet I have heard (O could I find it now 1)

Tam. Why have I patience to endure all this ? The lion mov'd with pity, did endure

Enter Chiron and Demetrius.

Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother,

Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? Tam. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale ?

These two have tic'd me hither to this place,
A barren detested vale, you see, it is:
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe.
Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries,
As any mortal body, hearing it,

Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
No sooner had they told this hellish tale,
But straight they told me, they would bind me

bere

Unto the body of a dismal yew;
And leave me to this miserable death.
And then they call'd me, foul adulteress,
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms
That ever ear did hear to such effect.
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,
This vengeance on me had they executed:
Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, !
Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children.
Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son.
[Stabs Bassianus.
Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my
strength.
[Stabbing him likewise.
Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis,-nay, barbarous
Tamora!

For no name fits thy nature but thy own! Tam. Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys,

Your mother's hand shall right your mother's

that sure.

Come, mistress, now, perforce, we will enjoy
That nice-preserved honesty of yours.
Lav. O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's
face,-

Tam. I will not hear her speak; away with her. Lav. Sweet Lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

Dem. Listen, fair madam: Let it be your glory To see her tears: but be your heart to them, As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.

Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam ?

O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee

To have his princely paws par'd all away.
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests;
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!
Tam. I know not what it means; away with

her.

Lav. O, let me teach thee: for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,

Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

Tam. Had thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless :

Remember, boys, 1 pour'd forth tears in vain,
To save your brother from the sacrifice;
But fierce Andronicus would not relent.
Therefore away with her, and use her as you will;
The worse to her, the better lov'd of me.

Lav. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place:
For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long;
Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died.
Tam. What begg'st thou then? fond woman,
let me go.

Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing

more,

That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit;
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Tam So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee;
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too
long.

Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!

The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall-

Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth :-Bring thou her husband: Dragging off Lavinia. This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.

[Exeunt.

Tam. Farewell, my sons; see that you make

her sure;

Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence, to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. The same.
Enter Aaron, with Quintus and Martius.
Aar. Come on, my lords; the better foot before:
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit,
Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep.
Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.
Mart. And mine, I promise you; wer't not for
shame,

Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
[Martius falls into the pit.
Quin. What, art thou fallen ? What subtle hole
is this,

Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing

briars ;

Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood,
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me :-
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mart. O, brother, with the dismall'st object
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament.

Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean,Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy

them here:

That he thereby may give a likely guess,,
How these were they that made away his bro-
ther.
[Erit Aaron.
Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me

out

From this unhallow'd, and blood-stain'd hole?
Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear:
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints;
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
Mart. To prove thou hast a true divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate

heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise:
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap like to a slaughter'd lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit
Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he?
Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus,
When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood.
O 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' misty mouth.

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help
thee out;

Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy
help.

Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not loose
again,

Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.

Enter Saturninus and Aaron.

[Falls in.

Sat. Along with me:-I'll see what hole is here,
And what he is, that now is leap'd into it.
Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus;

Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.

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.
O, 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 :-
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 ? O wondrous
thing!

How easily murder is discovered!

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? 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 shall be ready at your highness' will,
To answer their suspicion with their lives.
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see, thou fol-

low me.

derers:

Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur
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.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE V. The same.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron, with Lavinia,
ravished; her Hands cut off, and her Tongue

cut out.

Dem. So now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,

Who't was that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee. Cht. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so;

Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe

jest:

He and his lady both are at the lodge,

Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; "Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Mart. We know not where you left him all alive,

But, out alas! here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamora, with Attendants; Titus Andro-
nicus, and Lucius.

Tam. Where is my lord, the king?
Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with kill-
ing 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
handsomely,-

Dem. 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
wash :

And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang my
self.

Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the
cord.
[Exeunt Dem. and Chi

Whose circling shadows sings have sought to And let me say, that never wept before,

sleep in ;

My tears are now prevailing orators.
Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain;
7-The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead;
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you.
Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you
speak.

And might not gain so great a happiness,
As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflower'd thee;
And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy
tongue.

Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame!
And notwithstanding all this loss of blood,-
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,-
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, '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, cousin, hast thou met,
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 have 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 make 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?

ACT III.

SCENE I. Rome. A Street.

[Exeunt.

Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Jus tice, 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, good 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 Prisoners.

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.
O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear,
They would not mark me; or if they did mark,
They would not pity me; yet plead I must,
All bootless unto them.

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale;
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than

stones:

A stone is silent, and offendeth not;
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to
death.

But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon
drawn?

Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their
death:

For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd
My everlasting doom of banishment.

Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee.]
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive,
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey,
But me and mine: How happy art thou then,
From these devourers to be banished?
But who comes with our brother Marcus here ?
Enter Marcus and Lavinia.

her:

Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then.
Mar. This was thy daughter.
Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.
Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon
Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!
Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea?
Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy ?!
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st,
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.-
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have serv'd me to effectless use;
Now, all the service I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.-
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd
thee?

Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage;
Where like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this
deed?

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park,
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer,
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound.

Tit. It was my deer and he, that wounded her,
Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead :
For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,

Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man;
And here, my brother, weeping at my woes;
But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.-
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me: What shall I do
Now I behold thy lively body so?
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death,
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:-
Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her :
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband:

Perchance, because she knows them innocent.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.-
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.-
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips;

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain;
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some device of further misery,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.
Luc Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at
your grief,

See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Mar. Patience, dear niece:-good Titus, dry thine eyes.

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus brother, well I wot, Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine

own.

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother, which I said to thee;
His napkin with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks,
O, what a sympathy of wo is this!
As far from help as limbo is from bliss!

Enter Aaron.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
Sends thee this word.-That,if thou love thy sons,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
And send it to the king: he, for the same,
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
And that shall be the ransome for their fault.
Tit. O, gracious emperor ! O, gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor
My hand:

Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,
That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you:
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended
Rome,

And rear'd aloft the bloody battleaxe,

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's
care,

Now let me show a brother's love to thee.
Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.
Mar.
But I will use the axe
[Exeunt Lucius and Marcus
Tit. Come,hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so :-
But I'll deceive you in another sort,
And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass
[Aside. He cuts off Titus's Hand
Enter Lucius and Marcus.

Tit. Now, stay your strife: what shall be, ↳ despatch'd.

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand :
Tell him it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, 1 account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:-
Their heads, I mean.-O, how this villany

[Erit

Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call :-What, wilt thou kneel with me? [To Lavinia

Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;

Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds,
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms
Mar. O brother, speak with possibilities,
And do not break into these deep extremes
Tit. Is not my sorrow deep,having no bottom?
Then be my passions bottomless with them.
Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament.
Tit. If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes :
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth
o'erflow ?

If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face!
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow:
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:
For why my bowels cannot hide her woes,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues
Enter a Messenger, with Two Heads and a Hand
Mess. Werthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: From the Text of the Corrected ...