And, Madam, if my uncle Marcus go, w I will most willingly attend your ladyfhip

Mar. Lucius, I will.

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 skilld:
Come and make choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, 'till the heav'ns
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed :
Why lifts the

up
her

arms in sequence thus ?
Mar. I think, the means, that there was more than

one

Confederate in the fact. · Ay, more there was:
Or else to heav'n she heaves them for revenge.

Tit. Lucius, what book is that the toffes fo?

Boy. Grandfire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; My mother gave it me.

Mar. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps, the cull'd it from among the reft.

Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! Help her: what would she find? Lavinia, shall I read This is the tragick Tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape ; And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. Mar. See, brother, fee; note, how the quotes the

leaves. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong’d as Philomela was, Forc'd in the ruthless, vaft, 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 figns, sweet Girl, for here are none but

friends,
What Roman lord it was durft do the deed ;

Of

Or flunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to fin in Lucrecebed?

Mar. Sit down, sweet neice ; 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.

[He writes his name with his staff, and guides it

with his feet and mouth.
This fandy Plot is plain ; guide, if thou can'tt,
This after me, when I have writ my name,
Without the help of any hand at all.
Curft be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift !
Write thou, good neice; and here display, at least,
What God will have discover'd for revenge ;
Heav'n guide thy pen, to print thy forrows plain,
That we may know the traitors, and the truth!

[Sbe takes the staff in ber mouth, and guides it

with her stumps, and writes. 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, sweet 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 sware for Lucrece' rape,)
That we will prosecute. (by good advice) (13).

Mortal

(13) That we will prosecute (by good' Advice)

Mortal Revenge upon obese traiterous Goths ;

And see ebeir Blood, or die with this Reproacb.) But if they endeavour'd to throw of the Reproach, tho they fell in the

Attempt

Mortal revenge upon these traiterous Goths ;
And see their

blood, ere die with this reproach.
Tit. 'Tis sure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake; and if the wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply still in league ;
And lulls him whilft 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 fands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,
And where's your leffon 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 bond-men to the yoak of Rome,

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

Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

Tit. Come, go with me into my armoury. Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy Shall carry

from me to the Empress' fons Presents, that I intend to send them both. Come, come, thou'lt do my message, wilt thou not ?

Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bofom, 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, Attempt, they could not be properly said to die with that Rex proach. Marcus must certainly mean, that they would have Revenge on their Enemies, and spill their Blood, rather than they would tamely sit down, and die, under such Injuries. For this Reason I have corrected the Text,

ere die witb ibis Reproacb; I am not to learn, that or formerly was equivalent to ere. Or, before, ere : Gloff. to Urrey's Chaucer. Or, for ere : quod etiamnum in agro Lincolnienfi frequentiffimè ufurpatur. Skinner in bis Glossary of Uncommon Words. But this Usage was too obsolete for our Shakespeare's Time.

Ay, Ay, marry, will we, Sir; and we'll be waited on.

[Exeunt. Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecftafie, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Than foe-mens' marks upon his batter'd shield ; But yet so just, that he will not revenge ; Revenge the Heav'ns for old Andronicus !

[Exit.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door : and

at another door young Lucius and another, with a

bundle of weapons and verses writ upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the Son of Lucius;

us. Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grand

father. 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 decypherd (that's the news)
For villains mark'd with rape. May it please you,
My grandfire, well advis'd, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for fo he bad me fay :
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, like bloody villains. [Exit.
Dem. What's here, a scrowle, and written round

about?
Let's see.
Integer vitæ, fcelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.
Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horece, I know it well :

I read it in the Grammar long ago.
Aar. Ay, juft ; a verse in Horace-

-right, you have it Now, what a thing it is to be an Afs ? Here's no fond jeft; th' old man hath found their

guilt, (14)
And sends the weapons'

wrap'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 unreft awhile,
And now, young lords, was't not a happy ftar
Led us to Rome strangers, and more than lo,
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
Bafely infinuate, 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 luft.

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
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.
Aar. Pray to the devils; the Gods have given us

(Flourish. Dem. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourish thus? Chi. Belike, for joy the Emp'ror hath a son. Dem. Soft, who comes here?

Enter. Nurse, with a Black-a-moor Child. Nur. Good morrow, lords :

over.

(14) Here's no found jeft;] But, I think, I may venture to say, here's no found Sense. Doubtless, the Poet wrote, bere's no fond jef, i, e, no idle, foolis one; but a Sarcasm deliberately thrown, and grounded on Reason,

O,