fly,

Like to the Emprefs' Moor ; therefore I kill'd him.

Tit. O, O, O,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou haft done a charitable deed ;
Give me thy knife, I will infult on him,
Flattering myfelf, as if it were the Moor
Come hither purpofely to poifon me.

U 2 There's



292 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

There's for thyfelf, and that's for Tamora :
Yet (till, I think, we are not brought fo low,
But that between us we can kill a fly,
That comes in likenefs of a cole-black Moor.

Mar. Alas, poor man, grief has fo wrought on

him,

He takes falfe fhadows for true fubftances.
Come, take away , Lavinia, go with me j
I'll to thy clofet, and go read with thee
Sad {lories, chanced in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me ; thy fight is young,
And thou malt read, when mine begins to dazzle.

[Exeunt.



A C T IV. SCENE I.
TITUS 's HOUSE.

Enter young Lucius, and Lavinia running after him ;
and the boy flies from her, with his looks under his
arm. Enter Titus, and Marcus.

BOY.

HELP, grandfire, help ; my Aunt Lavinia
Follows me every where, I know not why.
Good uncle Marcus, fee, how fwift me comes :
Alas, fweet Aunt, I know not what you mean.
Mar. Stand by me, Lucius, do not fear thy Aunt.
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, flic did.
Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by thefe figns ?
Tit. Fear thou not, Lucius, fomewhat doth me mean :
See, Lucius, fee, how much me makes of thee :
Some whither would me have thee go with her.

Ah,



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 293

Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

Read to her fons, than fhe hath read to thee,

Sweet poetry, and Fully* s oratory :

Can'ft thou not guefs wherefore fhe plies thee thus?

Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I gueis,
Unlefs fome fit or frenzie do pofiefs her :
For I have heard my grandfire fay full oft,
Extremity of grief would make men mad.
And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad through forrow -, that made me to fear ;
Although, my lord, I know my noble Aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my Mother did :
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth ;
Which made me down to throw my books, and flie,
Caufelefs, perhaps ; but pardon me, fweet Aunt i
And, Madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will mod willingly attend your ladyfhip.

Mar. Lucius ) I will.

Tit. How now, Lavinia ? Marcus, what means

this?

Some book there is that fhe defires to fee.
Which is it, girl, of thefe? open them, boy.
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd :
Come and make choice of all my library,
And fo beguile thy forrow, 'till the heav'ns
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed :
Why lifts Oie up her arms in fequence thus ?

Mar. I think, fhe means, that there was more than

one

Confederate in the faft. Ay, more there was :
Or elfe to heav'n fhe heaves them for revenge.

Tit. Lucius^ what book is that (he tofles fo ?

Boy. Grandfire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphofes ;
My Mother gave it me.

Mar. For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps fhe culPd it from among the reft.

Tit. Soft ! fee, how bufily fhe turns the leaves !

U 3 Help



294 TITUS AND RON ic us.

Help her : what would fhe find ? Lavinia, lhall I

read !

This is the tragick Tale of -Philomel,
And treats ot'Tereus* treafon and his rape ;
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

Mar. See, brother, fee ; note, how fhe quotes the
leaves.

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus furpriz'd, fweet girl,
Ravifh'd and wrong'd as Philomela was,
Forc'd in the ruthlefs, vaft, and gloomy woods ?

See, fee-,

Ay, fuch a place there is, where we did hunt,
(O had we never, never, hunted there ! )
Pattern'd by That the Poet here defcribes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.

Mar. O, why mould Nature build fo foul a den,
Unlefs the Gods delight in tragedies I

Fit. Give figns, fweet Girl, for here are none but

friends,

What Roman lord it was durft do the deed ;
Or flunk not Saturnine, as Tarqitin erft,
That left the camp to fin in Lucrece* bed ?

Mar. Sit down, fweet niece ; brother, fit down by

me.

Jpollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Infpire me, that I may this treafon find.
My lord, look here ; look here, Lavinia.

\_He writes his name with his faff, and guides it
with his feet and mouth.

This fandy Plot is plain ; guide, if thou canft,
This after me, when I have writ my name,
Without the help of any hand at all.
Curft be that heart that forc*d us to this fhift !
Write thou, good niece ; and here difplay, at leaft,
What God will have difcover'd for revenge ;
Heav'n guide thy pen, to print thy forrows plain,

That



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 295

That we may know the traitors, and the truth !

\_She takes the ftaff in her mouth, and guides it
with her flumps, and writes.

Tit. Oh, do you read, my lord, what me hath writ?
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.

Mar. What, what ! the luftful fons of Tamora
Performers of this hateful bloody deed?

Tit. Magne Regnator Poll,
Tarn lentus audis feeler a ! tarn lentus vides !

Mar. Oh, calm thee, gentle lord ; although, I

know,

There is enough written upon this earth,
To flir a mutiny in the mildeft thoughts,
And arm the minds of Infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia kneel,
And kneel, fweet boy, the Roman Hector^ Hope,
And fwear with me, (as, with the woeful peer,
And father, of that chatte difhonour'd D;une,
Lord Junius Brutus fware for Lucrece* rape,)
That we will profecute (by good advice)
Mortal revenge upon thefe traiterous Goths ;
And lee their blood, or die with this reproach.

Tit. 'Tis fure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt thefe bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake ; and if me wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply flill in league ;
And lulls him whilft fhe pbyeth on her back,
And, when he fleeps, will me do what fhe lift.
You're a young Hunt (man, Marcus, let it alone ;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brafs,
And with a gad of iteel will write thefe words,
And lay it by ; the angry northern wind
Will blow thefe fands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,
And wherc's your leffon then ? boy, what fay you !

Boy. I fay, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber mould not be fafe,

U 4 For



296 TITOS ANDRONICUS.'

For thefe bad bond-men to the yoak of Rome.

Mar. Ay, that's my boy ! thy father hath full oft
For this ungrateful Country done the like.

Boy. And, nuncle, 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 Emprefs* fons
Prefents, that I intend to fend them both.
Come, come, thou'lt do my mefiage, 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 compafiion him ?
Marcus, attend him in his ecftafie.
That hath more fears of forrow in his heart,
Than foe-mens* marks upon his batter'd fhield ;
But yet fo juft, that he will not revenge ;
1 Revenge thee, Heav'ns! for old Andronicus. [Exit.

SCENE II.

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 verfes writ upon them.
Chi. Y\Emetrius, here's the Son of Lucius ;
a' He hath fome mefiage to deliver us.

the Heavns ] We Ihould read,
Revenge tbee, Keav'ns !

Aar.



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 297

Aar. Ay, fome mad mefTage from his mad grand-
father.

Boy. My lords, with all the humblenefs 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 decypher'd (that's the

news)

For villains mark'd with rape. May it pleafe you,
My grandfire, well advis'd, hath fent by me
The gbodlieft weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome ; for fo he bad me fay :
And fo I do, and with his gifts prefent
Your lordlhips, 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 fcrowle, and written round

about ?
Let's fee.

Integer vita, fcderifque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis nee arcu.

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

Aar. Ay, juft ; a verfe in Horace right, you

have it~

Now, what a thing it is to be an Afs ?

Here's no (a) fond jeft ; th 5 old man hath found their

guilr,

And fends the weapons wrap'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick :
But were our witty Emprefs well a-foot,
She would applaud Andronicu? conceit :
But let her reft in her unreft a while.
And now, young lords, was't not a happy ftar

O) fond. Mr. Theobald \\i\g.found.]

Led



298 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

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 fo great a lord
Rifely infmuate, and fend us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reafon, lord Demetrius ?
Did you not ule his daughter very friendly ?

Dem. I would, we had a thoufand Roman dames
At fuch a bay, by turn to ferve our luft.

Cbi. A charitable wifh, and full of love.

Aar. Here lacketh but your mother to fay Amen.

Cbi. 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 j the Gods have given us
over. \_FlouriJh.

Dem. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourifh.
thus ?

Chi. Belike, for joy the Emp'ror hath a fon.

Dem. Soft, who comes here?

SCENE III.

Enter Nurfe, with a Black- a-moor Child.

Nur. Good morrow, lords:
O, tell me, did you fee Aaron the Moor ?

Aar. 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 doll thou keep?
What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine arms ?

Nur. O That which I would hide from heaven's

eye,
Our Emprefs* ihame, and {lately Rome's difgrace.

She



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 299

She is deliver'd, lords, fhe is delivered.
Aar. To whom ?

Nur. I mean, me is brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God give her good reft !
What hath he fent her ?
Nur. A devil.
Aar. Why, then flie is the devil's dam : a joyful

iffue.

Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black, and forrowful iflue,
Here is the babe, as lothfomeas a toad,
Amongft the faired 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 bloffbm, fure.
Dem. Villain, what haft thou done ?
Aar. That which thou canft not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother.
Dem. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed

choice,

Accurs'd the offspring of fo foul a fiend !
Cbi. It (hall not live.
Aar. It fhall not die.

Nur. Aaron, it muft, the Mother wills it fo.
Aar. What, muft it, nurfe ? then let no man but I
Do execution on my flefh and blood.

Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point:
Nurfe, give it me, my fword fhall foon difpatch it.

Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up,
Stay, murtherous villains, will you kill your brother?
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,
That fhone fo brightly when this boy was gor,
He dies upon my Scymitar's iTiarp point,
That touches this my firft-born fon and heir.
I tell you, Younglings, not Rnceladus
With all his threatning band of Typkorfs brood,

Nor



300 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

Nor great Alcides, nor the God of war,

Shall feize this prey out of his father's hands.

\Yhat, what, ye fanguine fhallow-hearted boys,

Ye white-lim'd walls, ye ale-houfe painted figns,

Coal-black is better than another hue :

In that it fcorns to bear another hue :

For all the water in the ocean

Can never turn the fwans black legs to white,

Although flie lave them hourly in the flood.

Tell the Emprefs from me, I am of age

To keep mine own ; excufe it, how me can.

Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble miftrefs thus ?

Aar. My miftrefs is my miftrefs ; this, myfelf
The vigour and the picture of my youth.
This, before all the world do I prefer ;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep fafe ;
Or fome of you mall fmoke for it in Rome.

Dem. By this our mother is for ever lliam'd.

Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul efcape.

Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her
death.

Chi. I blufh to think upon this ignominy.

Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears :
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blufliing
The clofe enacts and counfels of the heart !
Here's a young Jad fram'd of another leer,
Look, how the black flave fmiles upon the father ;
As who mould fay, " Old lad, I am thine own.
He is your brother, lords ; fenfibly fed
Of that felf- blood, that firft gave life to you ;
And from that womb, where you imprifon'd were,
He is infranchifed and come to light:
Nay, he's your brother by the furer fide ;
Although my feal is damped in his face.

Nur. Aaron, what mail I fay unto the Emprefs ?

Dem. Advife thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all fubfcribe to thy advice:

Save



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 301

Save you the child, fo we may be all fafe.

Aar. Then fit we down, and let us all confult.
My fon and I will have the wind of you :
Keep there : now talk at pleafure of your fafety.

\fThey fit on the ground.

Dem, How many women faw this child of his ?

Aar. Why, fo, brave lords ; when we all join in

league,

I am a lamb ; but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lionefs,
The ocean fwells not fo as Aaron ftorms :
But fay again, how many faw the child ?

Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myfelf
And no one elfe but the deliver'd Emprefs.

Aar. The Emprefs, the midwife, and yourfelf
Two may keep counfel, when the third's away :
Go to the Emprefs, tell her, this I faid [He kills her.
Week, week ! fo cries a pig, prepar'd to th* fpic.

Dem. What mean'fl thou, Aaron? wherefore didft
thou this ?

Aar. O lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of policy :
Shall flie live to betray this guilt of ours ?
A long-tongu'd babling goffip? no, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent :
Not far, one Muliteus lives, my country- man,
His wife but yefternight was brought to bed,
His child is like to her, fair as you are:
Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumftance of all ;
And how by this their child mall beadvanc'd,
And be receiv'd for the Emp'ror's heir,
And fubftituted in the place of mine,
To calm this temped whirling in the Court 5
And let the Emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, my lords, ye fee, I have given her phyfick j
And you muft needs beftow her funeral ;
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms :

This



302 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

This done, fee, that you take no longer days,
But fend the midwife prefently to me.
The midwife and the nurfe well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they pleafe.

Chi. Aaron^ I fee, thou wilt not truft the air
With fecrets.

Dem. For this care of T^amora^
Herfelf and hers are highly bound to thee. \Exeunt.

Aar. Now to the Goths> as fwift as Swallow flies,
There to difpofe this treafure in my arms,
And fecretly to greet the Emprefs* friends.
Come on, you thick-lip'd flave, I bear you hence,
For it is you that put us to our fhifts :
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey, and fuck the goat,
And cabin in a cave ; and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp. \jExit.

SCENE IV.

A Street near the Palace.

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other
Gentlemen ivith bows-, and Titus bears the arrows
with letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come, Marcus, come; kinfmen, this is the

way.

Sir boy, now let me fee your archery.
Look, ye draw home enough, and 'tis there ftraight ;

Terras Aftrxa reliquif be you remember'd,

Marcus

She's gone, (he's fled Sirs, take you to your tools ;

You, coufins, mall go found the ocean,

And cad your nets ; haply, you may nd her in the

fea ;
Yet there's as little juftice as at land -

No,



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 303

No, Ptiblius and Sempronius ; you muft do ir,
'Tis you muft dig with mattock and with fpa.de,
And pierce the inmoft centre of the earth :
Then, when you come to Pint '0's region,
I pray you, deliver this petition,
Tell him it is for juftice, and for aid ;
And that it comes from old Andromcus^
Shaken with forrows in ungrateful Rome.

Ah, Rome! Well, well, I made thee miferable,

What time I threw the people's fuffrages
On him, that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
Go, get you gone, and, pray, be careful all,
And leave you not a man of war unfearch'd ;
This wicked Emperor may have fhip'd her hence,
And, kinfmen, then we may go pipe for juftice.

Mar. Oh Publius, is not this a heavy cafe,
To fee thy noble uncle thus diffract ?

Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night t' attend him carefully :
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
'Till time beget fome careful remedy.

Mar. Kinfmen, his forrows are paft remedy.
Join with the Gotbs, and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome, for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius> how now ? how now, my mafters,
What, have you met with her ?

Pub. No, my good lord, but Pluto fends you

word,

If yoa will have revenge from hell, you mall :
Marry, for juftice, (he is fo employ'd,
He thinks, with Jove in heav'n, or fomewhere elfe ;
So that perforce you muft needs ftay a time.

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
I'll dive into the burning lake below,
And pull her out of dcberon by the heels.
Marcus, we are but fhrubs, no cedars we,

No



304 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops'' fize ;

But metal, Marcus, fteel to th' very back ;

Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can

bear.

And fith there is no juftice in earth nor hell,
We will follicit heav'n, and move the Gods,
To fend down juftice for to wreak our wrongs :
Come, to this gear ; you're a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows.

M Jovcm, that's for you here, ad Apollinem

Ad Mart em i that*s for my felf ;

Here, boy, to Pallas here, to Mercury

To Saturn and to Ccelus not to Saturnine
You were as good to fhoot againft the wind.
To it, boy ; Marcus loofe when I bid :
O* my word, I have written to effect,
There's not a God left unfollicited.

Mar. Kinfmen, (hoot all your fhafts into the Court,
We willaffli6t the Emperor in his pride. \hey Jhoot.

'fit. Now, mafters, draw; oh, well faid, Lucius:
Good boy, in Fit-go's Jap, give it Pallas.

Mar. My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon ;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what haft thou

done ?
See, fee, thou'ft mot off one of I'aurus 9 horns.

Mar. This was the fport, my lord ; when Publius

mot,

The bull being gall'd, gave Aries fuch a knock,
That down fell both the ram's horns in the Court,
And who mould find them but the Emprefs, villain :
She Jaugh'd, and told the Moor, he mould not chufe
But give them to his mafter for a prefent.

Tit. Why, there it goes. God give your lord-
fhip joy!

Enter



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 305

Enter a Clown with a basket and two pigeons.

News, news from heav'n -, Marcus, the pofl is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I havejuftice, what fays Jupiter?

Clown. Who ? the gibbet-maker ? he fays, that he
hath taken them down again, for the man muft not be.
hang'd 'till the next week.

Tit. Tut, what fays Jupiter, I ask thee ?

Clown. Alas, Sir, I know not Jupiter^
I never drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

Clown. Ay, of my pigeons, Sir, nothing elfe.

Tit. Why, didft thou not come from heav'n ?

Clown. From heav'n ? alas, Sir, I never came there,
God forbid I mould be fo bold to prefs into heav'n
in my young days. Why, I am going with my pi-
geons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of
brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the Emperiars
men.

Mar. Whyj Sir> that is as fit as can be to ferve
for your oration, and let him deliver the pigeons to
the Emperor from you.

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the
Emperor with a grace ?

Clown. Nay, truly, Sir, I could never fay grace in
all my life.

Tit. Sirrah, come hither, make no more ado,
But give your pigeons to the Emperor.
By me thou (halt have juftice at his hands.
Hold, hold mean while, here's mony for thy

charges.

Give me a pen and ink.
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a fupplication ?

Clown. Ay, Sir.

Tit. Then* here is a fupplication for you : and when
you come to him. at the firft approach you muft

VOL. VI. X kneel,



306 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

kneel, then kifs his foot, then deliver up your pigeons,
and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, Sirj
fee you do it bravely.

Clown. I warrant you, Sir, let me alone.

TiV. Sirrah, haft thou a knife ? come, let me fee it.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration,
For thou haft made it like an humble fuppliant ;
And when thou haft given it the Emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me, what he fays.

Clown. God be with you, Sir, I will.

?//. Come, Marcus^ let us go. Publius, follow me.

\_Exeunf.

SCENE V.
The PALACE.

Enter Emperor and Emprefs, and her two fom ; the
Emperor brings the arrows in his hand, that Ti-
tus Jhot.

.SW.IT7HY, lords, what wrongs are thefe? was

VV ever feen

An Emperor of Rome thus over- borne,
Troubled, confronted thus, and for th' extent
Of equal juftice, us'd in fuch contempt ?
My lord, you know, as do the mightful Gods,
(However the difturbers of our peace
Buz in the people's ears) there nought hath paft,
But even with Jaw againft the wilful fons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His forrows have fo overwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenfie, and his bitternefs?
And now he writes to heav'n for his redrefs.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury,
This to Apollo i this to the God of war :

Sweet



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 307

Sweet fcrouls, to fly about the ftreets of Rome !

What's this but libelling againft the Senate,

And blazoning our injuftice ev'ry where ?

A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?

As who would fay, in Rome no juftice were.

feut if I live, his feigned ecftafies

Shall be no fhelter to thefe outrages :

But he and his mall know, that Juftice lives

In Saturmnu? health ; whom, if me fleep,

He'll fo awake, as me in fury (hall

Cut off the proud'ft confpirator that lives.

'Tarn. My gracious lord* mod lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thought,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th* effects of forrow for his valiant fons,
Whofelofs hath pierc'd him deep, and fcarr'd his heart;
And rather comfort his diftrefied plight,
Than profccute the meaneft, or the beft,
For thefe contempts Why, thus it mail become
High-witted Tamora to glofe with all :
But, 27/;, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out; if Aaron now be wife,
Then is all fafe, the anchor's in the port. [dfide.

Enter Clown.

How, now, good fellow, would'ft thou fpeak with us ?
Clo. Vea, forfooth, an your Mifterfhip be Emperial.
Tarn. Emprefs I am, but yonder fits the Emperor.
Clown. Tis he: God and St. Stephen give you

good-Even :

I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons
here. [He reads the letter.

Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him preiently.
Clown. How much mony muft I have ?
fam. Come, firrah, thou muft be hang'd.
Clown. Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up
a neck to a fair end. [Exit.

X z Sat.



308 TITUS ANDRONICUS.

Sat. Defpightful and intolerable wrongs !
Shall I endure this monftrous villany ?
I know, from whence this fame device proceeds :
May this be borne ? as if his traiterous fons,
That dy'd by law for murther of our brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully ?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair,
Nor age nor honour * fhall fhape privilege.
For this proud mock PJ1 be thy (laughter-man ;
Sly frantick wretch, that holp'ft to make me great,
In hope thy felf mould govern Rome and me.

JEnter Emilius.



Sat. What news with thee,

ASmil. Arm, arm, my lords j Rome never had more

caufe ;

The Goths have gather*d head, and with a Power
Of high-refolved men, bent to the fpoil,
They hither march amain, under the Conduct