Or flunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to fin in Lucrece' bed? Mar. Sit down, fweet neice; brother, fit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Infpire me, that I may this treason find. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it This fandy Plot is plain; guide, if thou can'st, Curft be that heart, that forc'd us to this fhift! [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it Tit. Oh, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius, Mar. What, what! the luftful fons of Tamora Performers of this hateful bloody deed? Tit. Magne Dominator Poli, Tam lentus audis fcelera! tam lentus vides! Mar. Oh, calm thee, gentle lord; although, I know, There is enough written upon this earth, To ftir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And arm the minds of Infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia kneel, And kneel, fweet boy, the Roman Hector's Hope, And swear with me, (as, with the woeful peer, And father, of that chaste dishonoured Dame, Lord Junius Brutus fware for Lucrece' rape,) That we will profecute (by good advice) (13). (13) That we will prosecute (by good Advice) Mortal Mortal Revenge upon these traiterous Goths; they endeavour'd to throw off the Reproach, tho' they fell in the Attempt Mortal revenge upon thefe traiterous Goths; And lulls him whilft fhe playeth on her back, Come, come, thou'lt do my meffage, wilt thou not? Attempt, they could not be properly faid to die with that Reproach. Marcus must certainly mean, that they would have Revenge on their Enemies, and fpill their Blood, rather than they would tamely fit down, and die, under fuch Injuries. For this Reason I have corrected the Text, ere die with this Reproach: I am not to learn, that or formerly was equivalent to ere. Or, for ere: But this Ufage was quod etiamnum in agro Lincolnienfi frequentiffimè ufurpatur. Skinner in bis Gloffary of Uncommon Words. too obfolete for our Shakespeare's Time, Ay, Ay, marry, will we, Sir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt. That hath more fcars of forrow in his heart, SCENE changes to the Palace. [Exit. Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door: and at another door young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons and verfes writ upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the Son of Lucius; He hath fome meffage to deliver us. Aar. Ay, fome mad meffage 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. 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. May it please you, My grandfire, well advis'd, hath fent by me The goodlieft weapons of his armoury, To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for fo he bad me fay : And fo I do, and with his gifts prefent Your lordships, that whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well. And fo I leave you both, like bloody villains. [Exit. Dem. What's here, a fcrowle, and written round about? Let's fee. Integer vita, fcelerifque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu. Chi. O, 'tis a verfe in Horace, I know it well: I read it in the Grammar long ago. Aar. Ay, juft; have it a verfe in Horace -right, you Now, what a thing it is to be an Afs? Here's no fond jeft; th' old man hath found their guilt, (14) And fends the weapons wrap'd about with lines, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ? Aar. Here lacketh but your mother 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. over. Aar. Pray to the devils; the Gods have given us Enter Nurfe, with a Black-a-moor Child. Nur. Good morrow, lords: (14) Here's no found jeft;] But, I think, I may venture to fay, here's no found Senfe. Doubtless, the Poet wrote, bere's no fond jeft, i. e. no idle, foolish one; but a Sarcafm deliberately thrown, and grounded on Reason, O, tell me, did you fee Aaron the Moor? Aar. Why, what a caterwauling doft thou keep? Aar. To whom? Nur. I mean, fhe is brought to bed. Aar. Well, God give her good reft! What hath he fent her? Nur. A devil. Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam: a joyful iffue. Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black, and forrowful iffue. Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad, Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The Emprefs fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal: Aar. That which thou canst not undo. Aar. Villain, I've done thy mother. Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou haft undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice, Accurs'd the offspring of fo foul a fiend! Chi. It fhall not live. Aar. It fhall not die. Nur. Aaron, it muft, the mother wills it fo. Aar. What, muft it, nurfe? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood. Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point: Nurfe, give it me, my fword fhall foon dispatch it. Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up. Stay, murtherous villains, will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, That |