Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, This way to death my wretched sons are gone; It would have madded me; What shall I do Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: 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 napkint 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 Enter Aaron. Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? 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, Act III. And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. Mar. My hand shall go. Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 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. Mur. 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, is de spatch'd. Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 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, Mar. O brother, speak with possibilities, 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? • Sufferings. + The sky. Stir, bustle. Then must my earth with her continual tears Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand. Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid [Erit. Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne! To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at is double death. Luc, Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, [Lavinia kisses him. Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Mar. Now, farewell flattery: Die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs: Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand |