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 fly;
Causeless, perhaps :-But pardon me, sweet aunt :

And, madam, if my uncle 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.1
Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd, sweet girl,

Ravish'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods ?-
See, see!

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,
(O, 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 forc'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 poli,

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 woful 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, an you knew how,

[2] Feere---signifies a companion, and here metaphorically a husband. The proceeding of Brutus, which is alluded to, is described at length, in our autho'r Rape of Lucrece, as putting an end to the lamentations of Collatinus and Lucretius, the husband and father of Lucretia.

TYRWHITT.

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 ecstacy;

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!"

SCENE II.

[Exit.

The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one door; at another door, young Lucius, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them.

Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius;

He hath some message to deliver to us.

[3] It should be, Revenge, ye heavens!----

JOHNSON.

Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may,

I greet your honours from Andronicus ;

And pray the Roman gods, confound you both.

[Aside.

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. [Asi.] May it please you, My grandsire, well-advis'd, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury,

To gratify your honourable youth,

The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;
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.

[Ex. 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 acru.

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;

And sends the weapons wrapp'd 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 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.

Aside.

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.

[4] Gramercy; i. e. grand merci; great thanks. STEEVENS.

Aar. Here acks 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, with a 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.

Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God

Give her good rest! What hath he sent her?
Nur. A devil.

Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue.
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 blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
Dem. Villain, what hast thou done?

Aar. Done! that which thou

Canst not undo.

Chi. Thou hast undone our mother.
Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone.
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice !

Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend!

Chi. It shall not live.

Aar. It shall not die.