SCEN

E II.

Enter Marcus and Lavinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep,
Or if not fo, thy noble heart to break:
I bring confuming forrow to thine age.

Tit. Will it confume me? let me fee it then.
Mar. This was thy daughter.

Tit. Why, Marcus, fo the is.

Luc. Ah me, this object kills me.

Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arife and look upon her;
Speak, my Lavinia, what accurfed hand

Hath made thee handlefs, in thy father's 'fpight:
What fool hath added water to the fea?
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'ft,
And now like Nilus it dildaineth bounds:
Give me a fword, I'll chop off my hands too,
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain :
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life:
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have ferv'd me to effectless use.
Now all the fervice I require of them,
Is that the one will help to cut the other:
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou haft no hands,
For hands to do Rome fervice are but vain.

Luc. Speak, gentle fifter, who hath martyr'd thee?
Mar. O that delightful engine of her thoughts,

That blab'd them with fuch pleafing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where like a sweet melodious bird it fung
Sweet various notes, inchanting every ear.

Luc. Oh fay thou for her, who hath done this deed?
Mar. Oh thus I found her ftraying in the park,
Seeking to hide her felf, as doth the deer

That hath receiv'd fome unrecuring wound.

Dd 4

Tit.

Tit. It was my deer, and he that wounded her
Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead :
For now I ftand, as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wildernels of fea,

Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when fome envious furge
Will in his brinifh bowels fwallow him.
This way to death my wretched fons are gone:
Here ftands my other fon, a banifh'd man,
And here my brother weeping at my woes.
But that which gives my foul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my foul

Had I but feen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me. What fhall I do,
Now I behold thy lively body fo?

Thou haft no hands to wipe away thy tears,
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee;
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
Look, Marcus, ah, fon Lucius, look on her :
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew,
Upon a gather'd lilly almoft wither'd.

[band.

Mar. Perchance the weeps becaufe they kill'd her huf

Perchance becaufe fhe knows them innocent.

Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
No, no, they would not do fo foul a deed,
Witness the forrow that their fifter makes.
Gentle Lavinia, let me kits thy lips,

Or make fome figns how I may do thee ease:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou and I fit round about fome fountain,
Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks,
How they are ftain'd like meadows yet not dry
With miry flime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain fhall we gaze fo long,
Till the fresh tafte be taken from that clearness,

And

And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or fhall we cut away our hands like thine?
Or fhall we bite our tongues, and in dumb fhews
País the remainder of our hateful days?
What fhall we do? let us that have our tongues
Plot fome device of further mifery,

To make us wondred at in time to come.

Luc. Sweet father, ceafe your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched fifter fobs and weeps.

Mar. Patience, dear niece; good Titus, dry thine eyes.
Tit. Ah Marcus, Marcus, brother, well I wot
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,

For thou, poor man, haft drown'd it with thine own.
Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark; I understand her figns;
Had fhe a tongue to fpeak, now would the fay
That to her brother which I faid to thee.
His napkin with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no fervice on her forrowful cheeks.
Oh what a fympathy of woe is this!
As far from help as limbo is from bliss.

Enter Aaron.

III.

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperor
Sends thee this word, that if thou love thy fons,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thy felf, old Titus,
Or any one of you chop off your hand,
And fend it to the King; he for the fame
Will fend thee hither both thy fons alive,
And that fhall be the ranfom for their fault.
Tit. Oh gracious Emperor! oh gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven fing fo like a lark,

That gives fweet tidings of the fun's uprife?
With all my heart, I'll fend the Emperor

My hand; good Aaron, wilt thou chop it off?

5 thou help to chop

Luc.

Luc. Stay, father, for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down fo many enemies, Shall not be fent; my hand will ferve the turn. My youth can better spare my blood than you, And therefore mine fhall fave my brothers lives. Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody battel-ax,

6

Writing deftruction on the enemies cask?`
Oh none of both but are of high defert:
My hand hath been but idle, let it serve
To ranfom my two nephews from their death,
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar. Nay, come, agree whofe hand fhall
For fear they die before their pardon come.
Mar. My hand fhall go.

Luc. By heav'n, it shall not go.

go along,

Tit. Sirs, ftrive no more, fuch wither'd herbs as thefe Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

Luc. Sweet father, if I fhall be thought thy fon,

Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

Mar. And for our father's fake, and mother's care,

Now let me fhew a brother's love to thee.

Tit. Agree between you, I will fpare my hand.
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an ax.

Mar. But I will ufe 7'it. [Exeunt Lucius and Marcus.
Tit. Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both;
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,

And never whilft I live deceive men fo.

But I'll deceive you in another fort,

And that you'll say ere half an hour pass.

[Afide.

[He cuts off Titus's band.

Enter Lucius and Marcus again.

Tit. Now ftay your ftrife; what fhall be, is dispatcht:

Good Aaron, give his Majefty my hand:

Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

From

9

caftle?...

old edit. Theob, emend.

7 the ax.

From thousand dangers, bid him bury it:
More hath it merited? that let it have.
As for my fons, fay, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an eafie price,
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aar. I go, Andronicus, and for thy hand
Look by and by to have thy fons with thee:
Their heads I mean.
Doth fat me with the very thought of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his foul black like his face.

Óh, how this villainy [Afide.

NE

[Exit.

IV.

Tit. O hear! I lift this one hand up to heav'n, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth;

If any Power pities wretched tears,

To that I call: What, wilt thou kneel with me?
Do then, dear heart, for heav'n fhall hear our prayers,
Or with our fighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
And ftain the fun with fogs, as fometime clouds
When they do hug him in their melting bofoms.
Mar. Oh brother, fpeak with poffibilities,
And do not break into thefe two extreams.
Tit. Is not my forrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my paffions bottomlefs with them.
Mar. But yet let reafon govern thy lament.
Tit. If there were reafon for thefe miferies,
Then into limits could I bind my woes.

When heav'n doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the fea wax mad,
Threatning the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea, hark how her fighs do blow
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my fea be moved with her fighs,
Then must my earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd:

For