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wash;

Enter Saturninus and Aaron.

Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with Sat. Along with me:- I'll see what hole is here,

them.

(Exeunt severally. And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend SCENE V.-The same. Enter Demetrius and Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Chiron, with Lavinia, ravished; her hands cul Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus;

off, and her tongue cut out. Brought thither in a most unlucky hour,

Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee.

Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meanjest:

ing so; He and ħis lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;

And, it thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. 'Tis not an hour since I left him there.

Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can

scowl. Mart. We know not where you left him all alive, But, out alas ! here have we found him dead.

Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy

hands. Enter Tamora, with attendants; Titus Andronicus, Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to

and Lucius. Tam. Where is my lord, the king ?

And so let's leave her to her silent walks. Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. grief.

Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus?

cord. (Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound;

Enter Marcus. Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.

Mar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,

fast?

(Giving a leiter. Cousin, a word; Where is your husband ?-The complot of this timeless' tragedy ;

If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold

me! In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny:

If I do wake, some planet strike me down, Sat. [Reads.) An if we miss to meet him inand- That I may slumber in eternal sleep!somely,

Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'lis, we mean, Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Do thou so much as dig the grave for him ;

or her two branches ? those sweet ornaments, Thou know'st our meaning : Look for thy reward Whose circling shadows kings have sought to Among the nettles at the elder tree,

sleep in, Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, And might not gain so great a happiness, Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.

As hall thy love? Why dost not speak to me?Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 0, Tamora! was ever heard the like?

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, This is the pit, and this the elder tree :

Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out Coming and going with thy honest breath. That should have murder'd Bassianus here. But, şure, some Tereus hath defloured thee; Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bay of gold. And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue.

[Showing it. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tit.] fell curs of And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, bloody kind,

As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,Have here bereft my brother of his life :

Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. There let them bide, until we have devis'd Shall I speak for thee? shall I say, 'tis so? Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. 0, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, Tam. What are they in this pit? O wondrous That I might rail at him to ease my mind! thing!

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
How easily murder is discovered !

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed,

And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind :
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,

But, lovely, niece, that mean is cut from thee; Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them,

A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
Sat. If it be proved! you see, it is apparent. And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
Who found this letter? Íamora, was it you? That could have better sew'd than Philomel.

Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up. O, had the monster seen those lily hands

Tit. I did, my lord : yet let me be their bail : Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow,

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them; They shall be ready at your highness' will, He would not then have touch'd them for his life : To answer their suspicion with their lives. Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,

Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see, thou follow me. Which that sweet tongue hath made, Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain ; As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's' feet. For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, Come, let us go, and make thy father blind: That end upon them should be executed.

For such a sight will blind a father's eye: Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king ; One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads, Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. What will whole months of tears thy father's eres i

Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; (1) Untimely, (2) Orpheus, 10, could our mourning erse thy misery! (Exeter

ACT III.

Enter Marcus and Lavinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; SCENE 1.-Rome. A street. Enter Senators, Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break;

Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with Martius I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. and Quintus, bound, passing on to the place of exe Til. Will it consume me? let me see it then. cution : Titus going before, pleading.

Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. Tit. Hear me, grave fathers ! noble tribunes, stay! Luc. Ah me! this object kills me! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;

her :For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;

Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight ? And for these bitter tears, which now you see What fool hath added water to the sea ? Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ;

Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? Be pitiful to my condemned sons,

My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! For two and twenty sons I'never wept,

And now, like Nilus,' it disdaineth bounds.

Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write

And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life;
[Throwing himself on the ground. In bootless prayer have they been held up,
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. And they have serv'd me to effectless use:
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;

Now, all the service I require of them
My son's sweet blood will make it shame and blush. Is, that the one will help to cut the other.-

[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, 8.c. with 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
the Prisoners.

For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,

thee? Than youthful April shall with all his showers : Mar. 0, that delightful engine of her thoughts, la summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still; That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, In winter, with warm tears I'll me the snow, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,

Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.

Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this

deed ? O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men !

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer, And let me say, that never wept before,

That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound. My tears are now prevailing orators.

Tit. It was my deer ; and he, that wounded her, Luc. 0, noble father, you lament in vain; Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead : The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,

For now I stand as one upon a rock, And you recount your sorrows to a stone.

Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Til

. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Expecting ever when some envious surge Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you will in his brinish bowels swallow him. speak.

This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, Here stands my other son, a banish'd man; They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, And here, my brother, weeping at my woes; All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.

But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;

Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.-
Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, It would have madded me; What shall I do
For that they will not intercept my tale:

Now I behold thy lively body so ?
When I do weep, they humbly at žny feet

Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears ; Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: And, were they but attir'd in grave weeds, Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this :A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! stones :

When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears A stone is silent, and offendeth not;

Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. Upon a gather'd lily almost wither’d. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their her husband; death :

Perchance, becausc she knows them innocent. For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joylul, My everlasting doom of banishment.

Because the law hath ta'cn revenge on them. Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.Chat Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?

Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips; Tigers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: But me and mine : How happy art thou then, Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 'rom these devourers to be banished ?

And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain; But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Looking ail downwards, to behold our cheeks

How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry (1) The river Nile.

| With miry slime left on them by a food ?

thine eyes.

And in the fountain shall we gaze so long,

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:And make a brine-pit with our bitter tears? But I'll deceive you in another sort, Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows

(Aside, Pass the remainder of our hateful days?

[He cuts of Titus's hand, What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, Plot some device of further misery,

Enter Lucius and Marcus, To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your despatch'd. grier,

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand :
See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
Nar. Patience, dear niece :--good Tiius, dry From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;

More hath it merited, that let it have.
Til. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot,' As for my sons, say, I account of them
Thy napkin cannot driuk a tear of mine, As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with ihinc own. And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Til. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her Look by and by to have thy sons with thee: -
signs :

Their heads, I mean.-0, how this villany [.iside. Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! That to her brother which 'I said to thee;" Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,

Aaron will have his soul black like his face. (Esil. Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.

Til. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, 0, what a sympathy of wo this?

And bow this fecble ruin to the earth :
As far from help as limbo is from bliss ?

If any power pities wretched tears,
Enter Aaron.
To thai I call;-What, wilt thou kneel with me?

(To Larini. far. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor, Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall bear our Sends thee this word,—That, if thou love thy sons,

prayers; Lei Marcus, Lucius, or thvsels old Titus,

Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, Or any one of you, chop of your hand,

And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, And send it to the king : he for the saine,

When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Will send thee hither both thy song alive;

Mar. 0! brother, speak of possibilities, And that shall be the ransom for their fault. And do not break into these deep extremes.

T'il. O, gracious cmperor! O, gentle Aaron! Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Did ever raven sing so like a lark,

Then be my passions' boitomless with them. That gives sweet tidings of the sun's aprise ? Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. With all my heart, I'll send the emperor

Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, My hand:

Then into limits could I bind my woes: Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,

flow? That hath thrown down so many enemies, If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn : Threat'ning the welkin' with his big-swollen (see? My youth can better spare my blood than you; And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ? And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Rome,

Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
And reard alost the bloody battle-axe,

Then must my earth with her continual tears
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle ? Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:
O, none of both but are of high desert:

For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes,
My band hath been but idle; let it serve

But, like a drunkard, must I vomit them.
To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then give me leave ; for losers will have leare
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

To case their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along,
For fear they die before their pardon come.

Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand Mar. My hand shall go.

Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid Luc.

By heaven, it shall not go. For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; these

And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd:

Luc. Sweet father, ir 'I shall be thought thy son, That wo is me to think upon thy woes,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death. More than remembrance of my father's death.
Mar. And for our father's sake, and mother's

(Emi. care,

Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,
Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

And be my heart an everburning hell!
Tit. Agree between you ; I will spare my hand. Thesc miseries are more than may be borne !
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

To weep with them that weep doih ease some deal, Mar.

But I will use the axe. But sorrow flouted at is double death.

(Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deepa Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both; wound, Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

(1) Know. (2) Handkerchief. 13) Sufferings.] (4) The sky. (5) Stir, bustle.

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il That ever death should let life bear bis name, Thou map of wo, that thus dost talk in signs ! Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

[To Lavinia.
(Lavinia kisses him. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
As frozen water to a starved snake.

Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans ;
Til. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
Mar. Now, farewell flattery: Die, Andronicus; And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; 'Thai all the tears that thy poor eves let fall,
Thy warlike hand; thy manyled daughter here; May run into that sink, and soaking in,
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
Even like a stony image, cold and dumb. Such violent hands upon her tender life.
Ah! now no more will I control thy grics:

Til. How now! has sorrow made thee dote
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand

already?
Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
The closing up of our most wretched eyes! What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Now is a time to storm; why art thou still ? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands ;-
Til. Ha, ha, ha!

To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er,
Mar. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ?
hour.

O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands;
Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Lest we remember still, that we have none.
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk !
And would usurp upon my watry eyes,

As if we should forget we had no hands,
And make them blind with tributary tears; If Marcus did not name the word of hands!
Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this :-
For these two heads do seem to speak to me; Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says ;
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, I can interpret all her martyr'd signs ;-
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again,

She says, she drinks no other drink but tears,
Even in their throats that have comunitted them. Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her
Come, let me see what task I have to do.-

cheeks :'-
You heavy people, circle me about;

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thoughts
That I may turn me to each one of you,

In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. As begging hermits in their holy prayers :
The vow is made.-Come, brother, take a head; Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
And in this hand the other will I bear:

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,
Bear thou my band, sweet wench, between thy And, by stilla practice, learn to know thy meaning.
teeth.

Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep lam
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;

ments : Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:

Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
And, if you love me, as I think you do,

Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness,
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.

Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of
(Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. tears,
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-
The wofullst man that ever liv'd in Rome!

[Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.

Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

Til. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my 0, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been !

heart;
But now nor Lucius, por Lavinia lives,

Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:
But in oblivion, and hateful gricss.

A deed of death, done on the innocent,
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs ;

Becomes not Titus' brother : Get thee gone;
And make proud Saturninus and his empress see, thou art not for my company.
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,

Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother ?
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit. How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
SCENE II.A room in Titus's house. A ban- Peor harmless fly!

And buzz lamenting doings in the air ? quet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and That with his pretty buzzing melody, yoteng Lucius, a boy.

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more

him.
Than will preserve just so much strength in us Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill-favour'd
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.

fly,
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him,
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, Tit. 0, 0, 0,
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
This poor right hand of mine For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;

Give me thy knise, I will insult on him ;
And when my heart, all mad with misery, Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,

Come hither purposely to poison me.-
Then thus I thump it down.-

There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.-
(1) An allusion to brewing.

(2) Constant or continual practice. YOL, II.

SH

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With folded arms.

mean:

Ah, sirrah!

My mother gave't me. Yet I do think we are not brought so low,

Mar.

For love of her that's gone, But that, between us, we can kill a fly,

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leares ! Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on Help her :him,

What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read ? He takes false shadows for true substances, This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

Tit. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me: And treats of Fereus' treason, and his rape; I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee

And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.

Nar. See, brother, sce; note, how she quotes Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,

the leaves. And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. Til. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl,

[Ereunt. Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,

Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?-
See, see !-

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,
ACT IV.

(0, had we never, never, hunted there!)

Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, SCENE I. The same. Before Titus's house. By nature made for murders, and for rapes. Enter Titus and Marcus.

Then enter young

Mar. 0, why should nature build so foul a den, Lucius, Lavinia running after him.

Unless the gods delight in tragedies! Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Til. Give signs, sweet girl, -for here are none Follows me every where, I know not why :

but friends, Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! What Roman lord it was durst do the dced : Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ? aunt.

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ;-brother, sit down Til. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

by me.Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these Inspire me, that I may this treason find !signs ?

My lord, look here;-Look here, Lavinia: Til. Fear her not, Lucius:—Somewhat doth she This sundy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,

This after me, when I have writ my name See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee : Without the help of any hand at all. Somewhither would she have thee go with her. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides Ab, boy, Cornelia never with more care

it with his feet and mouth. Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator.2

Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ? What God will have discover'd for revenge:

Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:

That we may know the traitors, and the truth For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,

[She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

it with her stumps, and writes. And I have read that Hecuba of Troy

Tit. 0, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to fear; Stuprum - Chiron-Demetrius. Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt

Mar. What, what!—The lustfulsons of Tamora Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,

Performers of this heinous, bloody deed ? And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Tit. Magne Dominator poli, Which made me down to throw my books, and fly; Tam lentus audis scelera ? tam lentus vides ? Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet aunt: Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although, I know And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

There is enough written upon this earth, I will most willingly altend your ladyship. To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, Mar. Lucius, I will.

And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. [Lavinia turns over the books which Lucius My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; has let fall.

And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; Tit. How now, Lavinia ?-Marcus, what means And swear with me,-as with the woful feere, this?

And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame, Some book there is that she desires to see : Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, Which is it, girl, of these?-Open them, boy. That we will prosecute, by good advice, But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd; Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, Come, and take choice of all my library,

And see their blood, or die with this reproach. And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens

Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. Reveal the damnd contriver of this deed.

But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware: Why lists she up her arms in sequence thus ?

The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, Mar. I think, she means, that there was more She's with the lion deeply still in league,

And lulls him while she playeth on her back, Confederate in the fact:-Ay, more there was : And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list. Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone :

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tossetih so ? And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; And with a gad' of steel will write these wort

And lay it by: the angry northern wind
(1) This was formerly not a disrespectful expression.
12 Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator. (5)

(6) Husband, Succession.

(4) To quote is to observe.

than one

Pihel point or a spear.

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