There is enough written upon this earth,
To ftir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My Lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia kneel,
And kneel, fweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope,
And fwear with me, (as, with the woeful peer,
And father of that chafte dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus fware for Lucrece' rape,)
That we will profecute (by good advice) (21)
Mortal revenge upon thefe traitorous Goths
And fee their blood, ere die with this reproach.
Tit. 'Tis fure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake; and if she wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply ftill in league;
And lulls him whilft fhe playeth on her back,
And, when he fleeps, will fhe do what she list.
You're a young huntsman, Marcus, let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brafs,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by; the angry northern wind

(21) That we will prosecute (by good advice)
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths;

And fee their blood, or die with this reproach] But if they endeavoured to throw off the reproach, though they fell in the attempt, they could not be properly faid to die with that reproach. Marcus muft certainly mean, that they would have revenge on their enemies, and foil their blood, rather than they would tamely fit down, and die under fuch injuries. For this reafon I have corrected the text;

ere die with this reproach.

And the fame emendation I have made on a paffage in Cymbeline, where it was as abfolutely neceffary. I am not to learn, that or formerly was equivalent to cre.--Or, before, ere; Gloff to Urrey's Chaucer.Or for ere, quod etiamnum in agro Lễn o`ni nfi frequentissime ufurpatur. Skinner in his Gloffary of uncommon words.-But this ufage was too obfolete for our Shakespeare's time. F

VOL. XI.

[oft

Will blow these fands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad,
And where's your leffon then? boy, what fay you?
Boy. I fay, my Lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber fhould not be safe,
For these bad bond-men to the yoke of Rome.
Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full
For this ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, uncle, fo will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into my armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the Empress' fons
Prefents, that I intend to fend them both.
Come, come, thou'lt do my meffage, wilt thou not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bofom, grand-
fire.

Tit. No, boy, not fo; I'll teach thee another
courfe.

Lavinia, come; Marcus, look to my houfe:
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court,

Ay, marry, will we, Sir; and we'll be waited on.
[Exeunt.
Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
And not relent, or not compaffion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecftafy,

That hath more fears of forrow in his heart,
Than foe-mens marks upon his battered shield;
But yet fo juft, that he will not revenge;
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! [Exit.
SCENE changes to the Palace.

Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS at one door: and at another door young LUCIUS and another, with a bundle of weapons and verses writ upon them.

Chi. Demetrius, here's the fon of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us.

Aar. Ay, fome mad message from his mad grand father.

Boy. My Lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus;

And pray the Roman gods confound you both.
Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news?
Boy. That you are both decyphered (that's the
news)

For villains marked with rape. May it please you,
My grandfire, well advifed, hath fent by me
The goodlieft weapons of his armoury
To gratify your honourable youth,

The hope of Rome; for fo he bade me fay :
And fo I do, and with his gifts prefent;
Your Lordships, that whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well.

And fo I leave you both, like bloody villains. [Exit.
Dem. What's here? a fcroll, and written round
Let's fee.
[about?

Integer vita, fcelerifque purus,

Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well: I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay, just;---a verfe in Horace---right, you Now, what a thing it is to be an afs! [have itHere's no fond jeft; the old man hath found their guilt, (22)

And fends the weapons wrapped about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Empress well a-foot,

She would applaud Andronicus' conceit:
But let her reft in her unrest a while.

(21) Here's no found je;] But I think I may venture to fay, here's no found fenfe. Doubtless the Poet wrote, here's no fond jeft, i. e. no idle, foolish one; but a farcafm deliberately thrown, and grounded on reason.

And now, young Lords, was't not a happy ftar
Led us to Rome ftrangers, and more than fo,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good before the palace-gate
To brave the tribune, in his brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to fee so great a Lord
Bafely infinuate, and fend us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reafon, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not ufe his daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At fuch a bay, by turn to ferve our luft..

Chi. A charitable wifh, and full of love.

Aar. Here lacketh but our mother to fay Amen. Chi. And that would fhe for twenty thoufand

more.

Dem. Come, let us go, and pray to all the gods. For our beloved mother in her pains.

Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us [Flourish Dem. Why do the Emperor's trumpets flourish.

over.

thus?

Chi. Belike, for joy the Emperor hath a fon.
Dem. Soft, who comes here?

Enter Nurfe, with a Black a-moor Child..
Nur. Good-morrow, Lords:

O, tell me, did you fee Aaron the Moor?

Bar, Well, more or lefs, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now? Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone : Now help, or woe betide thee evermore !

Aar. Why, what a caterwauling doft thou keep? What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O that which I would hide from lieaven's.

eye,

Our Emprefs' fhame, and ftately Rome's difgrace..

She is delivered, Lords, fhe is delivered,
Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean, she is brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God give her good rest !
What hath he fent her?

Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam: a joyful Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black, and forrowful iffue. Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad, Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The Emprefs fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal, And bids thee chriften it with thy dagger's point. Aar. Out, out, you whore ! is black fo bafe a hue;

Sweet blowfe, you are a beauteous bloffom, fure.
Dem. Villain, what haft thou done?

Aar. That which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother. (23)
far. Villain, I've done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellith dog, thou haft undone. Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice,, Accurfed the offspring of fo foul a fiend!

(13) Chi. Thou haft undone our mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou haft undone.-]

There is no neceflity for this break, had our editors collated the old Quarto, and restored the fupplemental half line which I have added from thence. They did not, I dare fay, fupprefs it out of modefty. It contains a mode of expreffion, which, though fomewhat coarfe, is ufed by our Author in other places.

Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison.
Bawd. Well; what has he done?·

Clown.

A woman..
-who, if I

Meaf. for Meafs

eyes

Had fervants true about me, that bear
To fee alike mine honour. as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
Which fhould undo more doing

Winter's Tules