Come down, and welcome me to this world's light;
Confer with me of murder and of death;

There's not a hollow cave, nor lurking place,
No vaft obfcurity, or mifty vale,

Where bloody murder or detefted rape

Can couch for fear, but I will find them out;
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,
Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.

Tit. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies?

Tam. I am; therefore come down, and welcome me Tit. Do me fome service, ere I come to thee: Lo, by thy fide where Rape and Murder ftand; Now give some furance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; And then I'll come and be thy waggoner, And whirl along with thee about the globes; Provide two proper palfries black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon fwift away, And find out murders in their guilty caves. And when thy car is loaden with their heads I will difmount, and by thy waggon. wheel Trot like a fervile foot-man all day long; Even from Hyperion's rifing in the eaft, Until his very downfal in the fea. And day by day I'll do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.

Tam. Thefe are my minifters, and come with me. Tit. Are they thy minifters ? what are they call'd ? Tam. Rapine and Murder; therefore called fo, 'Cause they take vengeance on fuch kind of men. Tit. Good Lord, how like the Emprefs' fons they are, And you the Emprefs! but we worldly men.

Have miferable mad mistaking eyes :

O fweet Revenge, now do I come to thee,

And if one arm's embracement will content thee,

I will embrace thee in it by and by. [Exit Titus from above.
Tam. This clofing with him fits his lunacy.
Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-fick fits,
Do you uphold, and maintain in your speech,

M 4

For

For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;
And, being credulous in this mad thought,
I'll make him fend for Lucius, his fon;
And whilft I at a banquet hold him fure,
I'll find fome cunning practice out of hand,
To fcatter and difperfe the giddy Goths,
Or at the leaft make them his enemies :

See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. (26)
Enter Titus.

Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:
Welcome, dread fury, to my woeful houfe;
Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too :
How like the Empress and her fons
you are!
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor;
Could not all hell afford you fuch a devil?
For, well I wot, the Emprefs never wags,
But in her company there is a Moor;
And would you reprefent our Queen aright,
It were convenient you had fuch a devil:
But welcome, as you are: what shall we do?

Tam. What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus.
Dem. Shew me a murderer, I'll deal with him.
Chi. Shew me a villain, that hath done a rape,
And I am fent to be revenged on him.

Tam. Shew me a thousand, that have done thee wrong And I will be revenged on them all.

Tit. Look round about the wicked ftreets of Rome, And when thou find'ft a man that's like thyself,

Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer.
Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap
To find another that is like to thee,
Good Rapine, ftab him; he's a ravisher.
Go thou with them, and in the Emperor's court
There is a Queen attended by a Moor;

(26) See, bere he comes, and I must play my theme.] Tho' this reading has obtain'd as far back as the first edition in folio—to play a theme, I think, is no juftifiable expreffion, nor one that our author would have chofe to ufe. The reading, I have given, has the authority of the oldeft quarto's,

Well

Well may't thou know her by thy own proportion,
For up and down she doth resemble thee;

I pray thee, do on them fome violent death;
They have been violent to me and mine.

Tam. Well haft thou leffon'd us; this fhall we do!.
But would it pleafe thee, good Andronicus,
To fend for Lucius thy thrice-valiant son,

Who leads tow'rds Rome a band of warlike Goths,,
And bid him come and banquet at thy houfe.
When he is here, even at thy folemn feast,
I will bring in the Empress and her fons,
The Emperor himself, and all thy foes;
And at thy mercy fhall they stoop and kneel,
And on them fhalt thou ease thy angry heart:
What fays Andronicus to this device?

Tit. Marcus, my brother!-'tis fad Titus calls:
Enter Marcus..

Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;
Thou shalt enquire him out amongst the Goths
Bid him repair to me; and bring with him
Some of the chiefeft Princes of the Goths;
Bid him encamp his foldiers where they are ; :
Tell him, the Emperor and the Empress too
Feast at my house, and he shall feaft with them; :
This do thou for my love, and fo let him,

As he regards his aged father's life.

Mar. This will I do, and foon return again. [Exite Tam. Now will I hence about my business,

And take my minifters along with me.

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me; Or elfe I'll call my brother back again,

And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.

Tam. What fay you, boys, will you abide with him, Whiles I go tell my Lord the Emperor,

How I have govern'd our determin'd jeft?
Yield to his humour, fmooth and fpeak him fair,
tarry with him 'till I come again.

And

Tit. I know them all, tho' they fuppofe me mad; ; And will o'er-reach them in their own devices :

A pair of curfed hell-hounds and their dam. [Afide.
Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here.
Tam. Farewel, Andronicus; Revenge now goes
To lay a complot to betray thy foes. [Exit Tamora.
Tit. I know, thou doft; and, fweet Revenge, farewel.
Chi. Tell us, old man, how fhall we be employ'd?
Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do.
Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine!

Enter Publius and Servants.

Pub. What is your will?

Tit. Know ye these two?

Pub. The Emprefs' fons,

I take them, Chiron, and Demetrius.

Tit. Fy, Publius, fy! thou art too much deceiv'd, The one is Murder, Rape is th' other's name;

And therefore bind them, gentle Publius ;

Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them;

Oft have you heard me wish for fuch an hour,

And now I find it, therefore bind them fure. [Exit Titus.
Chi. Villains, forbear; we are the Emprefs' fons.
Pub. And therefore do we what we are commanded.
Stop close their mouths; let them not speak a word.
Is he fure bound? look, that ye bind them faft.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lavinia with a bafon.

Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound; Sirs, top their mouths, let them not speak to me, But let them hear what fearful words I utter..

Oh, villains Chiron and Demetrius !

Here ftands the fpring whom you have stain'd with mud,
This goodly fummer with your winter mixt:
You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death;
My hand cut off, and made a merry jeft ;

Both her fweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her fpotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.
What would ye fay, if I fhould let you speak?

3

Villains!

Villains!—for fhame you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you.
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilft that Lavinia 'twixt her ftumps doth hold
The bason, that receives your guilty blood.

You know, your mother means to feast with me,
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, villains, I will grind your bones to duft,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste ;.
And of the paste a coffin will I rear,

And make two pafties of your shameful heads;
And bid that ftrumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
Like to the earth, fwallow her own increase.
This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet the fhall furfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
And worfe than Procne I will be reveng'd.
And now prepare your throats: Lavinia, come,
Receive the blood; and, when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious.

To make this banquet, which I with might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs feast.

[He cuts their throats. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And fee them ready 'gainst the mother comes. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my father's mind' That I repair to Rome, I am content.

Goth. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. Luc. Good uncle, take yoù in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tyger, this accurfed devil;

Let him receive no fuftenance, fetter him,
"Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror's face,
For teftimony of thefe foul proceedings;
And fee, the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear, the Emperor means no good to us.
M 6

Aar.