And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! (47) Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand. And be my heart an ever-burning hell! То weep with them that weep doth ease some deal; But sorrow flouted at is double death. [Exit. 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. Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starvèd snake. Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha! Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes, Even in their throats that have committed them. 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; Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in these things; (50) [Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. [Exit. SCENE II. 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 Who,(53) when my heart, all mad with misery, Then thus I thump it down. Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! [To Lavinia. Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Marc. 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? 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:- She says she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks:- As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, And by still practice learn to know thy meaning. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Marc. 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 knife. What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy (51) knife? Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord,-a fly. Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart; Mine eyes are (55) 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. Marc. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Tit. But (56) 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, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry! and thou hast kill'd him. Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was 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. Yet, I think,(57) we are not brought so low, That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances. Tit. Come, take away.-Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee Sad stories chancèd in the times of old.— Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Rome. Before TITUS's house. Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Then enter young LUCIUS, running, with books under his arm, and LAVINIA running after him. Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why :- Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Marc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: |