The Plays of William Shakespeare

Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
And that shall be the ransome for their fault.
Tit. O, gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll send the emperor
My hand;

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,
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
O, none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve

To ransome my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, come agree, whose band 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.

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

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.
Mar.

But I will use the axe. [Exeunt Luc. and Mar.

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 des
patch'd.-

Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Teil bim, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers, bid him bury it;
More hath it merited, that let it have.
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:-
Their heads, I mean,-0, how this villany
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:

If any power pities wretched tears,

[Aside.

[Exit.

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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?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swol'n face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?

I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth :
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:
For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand.
Mes. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;
And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd;
"That woe is me to think upon thy woes,
More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit.
Mar. Now let hot Etna 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,
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

[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 Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes! Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha!

Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed:
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

And would usurp upon my watry eyes,
And make them blind with tributary tears;
Then which way shail I find revenge's cave?
For these two heads do seem to speak to me ;
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss,
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again,
Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.-

You heavy people, circle me about;
That I may turn me to each one of you,

And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made.-Come, brother, take a head;
And in this hand, the other will I bear:
-Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things;
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, hetween thy teeth.

}

--As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight;
'Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:
And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to dɔ.
[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father;
The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!
Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;

O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been !
But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
And make proud Saturninus and his empress
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-

[Marcus strikes the dish with a knifh What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy kuife? Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. Tit. Out on thee. murderer! thou kill'st my heart; Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:

A deed of death, done on the innocent,
Becomes not Titus' brother: Get thee gone;
I see, thou art not for my company.

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz lamenting doings in the air?

Poor harmless fly!

[Exit. That with his pretty buzzing melody,

SCENE 11-A Room in Titus's House. A Banquet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young Lucius, a Boy.

Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more
Than will preserve just so much strength in us
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathea knot;
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right band of mine
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
And when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.-

Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!

[To Lavinia. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some little knife between thy teeth, And just against thy heart make thou a hole; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, May run into that sink, and soaking in, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life! Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands ;To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; Lest we remember still, that we have nonc.Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk! As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands!Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;I can interpret all her martyr'd signs ;She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks:-Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; In thy dumb action will I be as perfect, As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd him.
Mar. Pardon me, sir; 'twas a black ill-favour'd fly
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
Tit. 0, 0, 0,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
Come hither purposely to poison me.-
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.-
Ah, sirrah!-

Yet I do think we are not brought so low,
But that, between us, we can kill a fly,
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor,
Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him.
He takes false shadows for true substances.
Tir. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me:
I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.-
Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle.

ACT IV.

HELP, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why:Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes!Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine sunt Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs! Tit. Fear her not, Lucius: Somewhat doth she mean? See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee: Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor eau I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs wou'l make men mad; And I have read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to fear;

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as eler my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth;
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly;
Causeless, perhaps:-But pardon me, sweet aunt:
And, madam, if my unele Marcus go,

I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

Mar. Lucius, I will. [Lavinia turns over the books
which Lucius has let fall.
Tit. How now, Lavinia ?-Marcus, what means this?
Some book there is that she desires to see :-
Which is it, girl, of these?-Open them, boy.-
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd;
Come, and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.-
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

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

one

Confederate in the fact-Ay, more there was:-
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
Boy, Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis;
My mother gave't me.
Mar.
For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.

Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leaves!
Help her:

What would she find ?-Lavinia, shall I read?
This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape;
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

Mar. See, brother, see; note, how she quotes the
leaves.

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd, sweet girl,
Ravish'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
Fore'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?-
See, see!--

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,
(0, had we never, never, hunted there!)
Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders, and for rapes.

Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies!

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl,-for here are none but friends,

What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:

Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece;-brother, sit down by

me.

-Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Inspire me, that I may this treason find!—
My lord, look here ;-Look here, Lavinia :
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me, when I have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.

[He writes his name with his Staff, and guides
it with his Feet and Mouth.
Curs'd be that heart, that fore'd us to this shift!—
Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last,
What God will have discover'd for revenge:
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
That we may know the traitors, and the truth!

[She takes the Staff in her Mouth, and guides it with her Stumps and writes. Tit. O, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Stuprum-Chiron-Demetrius.

Mar. What, what !-the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

Tit. Magne Dominator pali,

Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although, I know,
There is enough written upon this earth,
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me ;-Lavinia, kneel;
-And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
And swear with me,-as with the woeful feere,
And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,-
That we will prosecute, by good advice,
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

Tit. 'Tis sure enough, and 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 still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.
You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by the angry northern wind
Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad,
And, where's your lesson then?-Boy, what say you?
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome.

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

Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury;
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons
Presents, that I intend to send them both:
Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.
Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course.
-Lavinia, come ;-Marcus, look to my house;
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court;

Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on.
[Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Boy.
Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy;
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Than foe-men's marks upon his batter'd shield:
But yet so just, that he will not revenge :-
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus!

[Exit.

And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well:
And so I leave you both, [Aside.] like bloody villains.
[Exeunt Boy and Attendant.

Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written round
about?

Let's see;

Integer vitæ, scelerisque 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 verse in Horace ;-right, you have

it.

Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!

Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;

[Aside.

And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well a-food,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.-
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and, more than so,
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 see so great a lord-
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.
Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand 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
o'er.
[Aside. Flourish.

Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus ?
Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
Dem. Soft; who comes here?

Enter a Nurse, witha Black-a-Moor Child in her arms.
Nur.
Good-morrow, lords:
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?
Aar. Well, more, or less, 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 dost thou keep?
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace;-
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd.

Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.
Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a hue ?-
Sweet blouse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

Nur. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so.
Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man, but I,
Do execution on my flesh and blood.

Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point;
Nurse, give it me ; nty sword shall soon despatch it.
Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.
[Takes the Child from the Nurse, and dress.
Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother?
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,

That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point,
That touches this my first-born son and heir!
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,

With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys!
Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs!
Coal-black is better than another hue,

In that it seorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean

Can never turn a swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the emperess from me, I am of age
To keep mine own; excuse it how she can.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus:
Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this, myself;
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:
This, before all the world, do I prefer;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe,
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

Dem. By this our mother is forever sham'd.
Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape.
Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her deaths
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.

Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bearst
Fye, treacherous hue! that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counsels of the heart!
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer:
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father;
As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own.
He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed
Of that self-blood that first gave life to you;
And, from that womb, where you imprison'd were,
He is enfranchised, and come to light:
Nay, he's your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice;
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.

Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult.
My son and I will have the wind of you:
Keep there: Now talk at pleasure of your safety.
[They sit on the ground.
Dem. How many women saw this child of his ?
Aar. Why so, brave lords; When we all join in
league,

I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor,

The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,

The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.-
But, say again, how many saw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself,
And no one else, but the deliver'd empress.

Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and yourself:
Two may keep counsel, when the third's away:
Go to the empress; tell her, this I said : [Stabbing her.
-Weke, weke !-so cries a pig, prepar'd to the spit.
Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst
thou this?

Aar. O, lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy:
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours?
A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? no, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman,
His wife but yesternight 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 circumstance of all;
And how by this their child shall be advanc'd,
And be received for the emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords; ye see, that I have given her physic,
[Pointing to the Nurse.
And you must needs bestow her funeral;
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
This done, see that you take no longer days,
But send the midwife presently to me.
The midwife, and the nurse, well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Chi. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air
With secrets.

Dem. For this care of Tamora,
Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee.

[Exeunt Dem. and Chi, bearing off the Nurse.
Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies;
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
And secretly to greet the empress' friends.--
Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence;
For it is you that put us to our shifts:
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,

And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
And cabin in a cave, and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The same. A public Place. Enter Titus, bearing Arrows, with Letters at the ends of them; with him Marcus, young Lucius, and other Gentlemen, with Bows.

Tit. Come, Mareus, come ;-Kinsmen, this is the way:

-Sir boy, now let me see your archery;

Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight: Terras Astræa reliquit :

you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled.
-Sir, take you to your tools.-You, cousins, shall
Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
Happily you may find her in the sea;

Yet there's as little justice as at land ;-
No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it ;
'Tis you must dig with mattock, and with spade,
And pierce the inmost centre of the carth;
Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
I pray you, deliver him this petition:
Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid;
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.-
Ah, Rome!-Well, well; I made thee miserable,

What time I threw the people's suffrages
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 unsearch'd ;
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence,
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night to attend him carefully;
And feed his humour kindly as we may,

Till time beget some careful remedy.

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters?
What,

Have you met with her?

Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word If you will have revenge from hell, you shall: Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,

He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, So that perforce you must needs stay 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 Acheron by the heels.--
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;
No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops' size :
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;
Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear.
And, sith there is no justice in earth nor hell,
We will solicit heaven; and move the gods,
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs:
Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows.
Ad Jovem, that's for you :-Here, ad Apollinem :-
Ad Martem, that's for myself;-
Here, boy, to Pallas:-Here, to Mercury :-
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine,-

You were as good to shoot against the wind.-
To it, boy.-Marcus, loose when I bid:
O' my word, I have written to effect;
There's not a god left unsolicited.

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court: We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well said, Lucius!

Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

Mar. My lord, 1 aim a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done! See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius

shot,

The bull being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock
That down fell both the ram's horns in the court;
And who should find them but the empress' villain?
She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present.

Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your lordship joy.

Enter a Clown, with a Basket and two Pigeons. News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. -Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

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Livros

The Plays of William Shakespeare, Volume 1