And tumble me into fome loathfome pit.
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this and be a charitable murderer.
Tam. So fhould I rob my sweet fons of their fee.
No; let them fatisfie their luft on thee.
Dem. Away! for thou haft ftaid us here too long. Lav. No grace? no womanhood? ah beaftly creature! The blot and enemy of our general name !
Chi. Nay, then I'll ftop your mouth-bring thou her [Dragging off Lavinia. This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. [Exeunt Tam. Farewel, my fons; fee that ye make her fure. Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
'Till all th' Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to feek my lovely Moor,
And let my fpleenful fons this trull deflour.
Enter Aaron with Quintus and, Marcus.
Aar. Come on, my Lords, the better foot before;
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit,
Where I efpied the Panther fast asleep.
Quin. My fight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.
Mar, And mine, I promise you; were't not for fhame,
Well could I leave our sport to fleep a while.
[Marcus falls into the pit. Quin. What, art thou fall'n? what fubtle hole is this,
Whofe mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars,
Upon whofe leaves are drops of new-fhed blood,
As fresh as Morning dew diftill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me :
Speak, brother, haft thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mar. O brother, with the dismallest object
That ever eye, with fight, made heart lament.
Aar. Now will I fetch the King to find them here,
That he thereby may have a likely guess,
How these were they that made away his brother. [Exit Aaron.
Mar. Why doft not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallow'd and blood-ftained hole?
Quin. I am furprized with an uncouth fear;
A killing fweat o'er-runs my trembling joints;
My heart fufpects more than mine eye can fee.
Mar. To prove thou haft a true divining heart,
Aaron and thou, look down into the den,
And see a fearful fight of blood and death.
Quin. Aaron is gone, and my compaffionate heart
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by furmife:
O tell me how it is; for ne'er 'till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
Mar. Lord Baffianus lyes embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a flaughter'd lamb,
In this detefted, dark, blood-drinking pit.
Quin. If it be dark, how doft thou know 'tis he
Mar. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole :
Which like a taper in fome monument,
Doth fhine upon the dead man's earthly cheeks,
And thews the ragged intrails of this pit.
So pale did fhine 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' mifty mouth.
Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee outs
Or wanting ftrength to do thee fo much good,
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Baffianus' grave.
I have no ftrength to pluck thee to the brink,
Mar. And I no ftrength to climb without thy help.
Quin. Thy hand once more I will not lofe again,
'Till thou art here aloft, or I below.
Thou can'ft not come to me, I come to thee. [Falls in.
SCENE VIII. Enter the Emperor and Aaron.
Sat. Along with me, I'll fee what hole is here,
And what he is that now hath leap'd into't.
Say, who art thou that lately didft defcend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
Mar. Th' unhappy fon of old Andronicus,
Brought hither in a molt unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Baffianus dead.
Sat. My brother dead? I know thou doft but jeft:
He and his Lady both are at the lodge,
Upon the north-fide of this pleasant chafe ;
'Tis not an hour fince I left him there.
Mar. We know not where you left him all alive, But out, alas, here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius.
Tam. Where is my Lord the King?
Sat. Here, Tamora, though griev'd with killing grief. Tam. Where is thy brother Baffianus ?
Sat. Now to the bottom doft thou search my wound a Poor Baffianus here lyes murdered..
Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy;
And wonder greatly that man's face can fold
In pleafing smiles fuch murderous tyranny.
[She giveth Saturninus a letter.
Saturninus reads the letter.
An if we mifs to meet him handsomely,
Sweet buntfman, Baffianus 'tis we mean,
Do thou fo much as dig the grave for him,
Thou know'ft our meaning: look for thy reward,
Among the nettles at the elder-tree
Which overfhades the mouth of that fame pit,
Where we decreed to bury Baffianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lafting friends.
Sat. Oh 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 Baffianus here.
Aar. My gracious Lord, here is the bag of gold.
Sat. Two of thy whelps, 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 hide until we have devis'd
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
Tam. What, are they in this pit? oh wondrous thing! How eafily murder is discovered!
Tit. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly fhed,
That this fell fault of my accurfed fons,
(Accurfed, if the fault be prov'd in them-)
Sat. If it be prov'd? you fee 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 fhall be ready at your Highness' will,
To answer their fufpicion with their lives.
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: fee thou follow me:
Some bring the murder'd body, fome the murderers.
Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain;
For, by my foul, were there worfe end than death,
That end upon them fhould be executed.
Tam. Andronicus, I will intreat the King;
Fear not thy fons, they fhall do well enough.
Tit. Come, Lucius, come, ftay not to talk with them.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron, with Lavinia, ber bands
cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravish'd.
Dem. So now go tell (an if thy tongue can speak)
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee.
Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning fo,
And (if thy ftumps will let thee) play the scribe.
Dem. See how with figns and tokens fhe can fcrowle. Chi. Go home, call for fweet water, wash thy hands. Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And fo let's leave her to her filent walks.
Chi. If 'twere my cafe, I fhould go hang my felf. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord, [Exeunt. SCENE X. Enter Marcus to Lavinia. Mar. Who's this, my niece, that flies away fo faft? Coufin, a word; where is your husband? fay:
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me;
If I do wake, fome planet ftrike me down,
That I may flumber in eternal fleep,!
Speak, gentle niece, what ftern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, thofe fweet ornaments,
Whofe circling fhadows Kings have fought to fleep.in
And might not gain fo great a happiness,
As have thy love? why doft not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rife and fall between thy rofie lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But fure fome Tereus hath defloured thee,
And left thou fhou'dft detect him, cut thy tongue
Ah, now thou turn'ft away thy face for shame:
And notwithstanding all this lofs of blood,
(As from a conduit with three iffuing fpouts)
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,
Blushing to be encountred with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? fhall I fay, 'tis fo?
Oh that I knew thy heart, and knew the beaft
That I might rail at him to ease: my mind!
Sorrow concealed, like an oven ftopt,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, fhe but loft her tongue,
And in a tedious fampler few'd her mind.
But lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus haft thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off
That could have better few'd than Philomel.
Oh had the monfter feen thofe lilly hands
Tremble, like afpen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the filken ftrings delight to kifs them,
He would not then have touch'd them for his life.
Or had he heard the heav'nly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue of thine hath often made,
He would have dropt his knife, and fall'n afleep,
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
|