Imatges de pÓgina
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Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud cord. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and Carros. Shall I speak for thee ? shall I say, 'tis so?

O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, Enter MARCUS.

That I might rail at him to ease my mind ! Mari Who's this, - my niece, that fieś away so Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, fast?

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Cousin, a word; Where is your husband ? Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me! And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind :
If I do wake, some planet strike me down, But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from theo
That I may slumber in eternal sleep! -

A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
Of her two branches ? those 'sweet ornaments, O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in; Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And might not gain so great a happiness,

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them; As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? He would not then have touch'd them for his life: Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,

Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr’d with wind, Which that sweet tongue hath made,
Doth rise and fall
between thy rosed lips,

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, Coming and going with thy honey breath.

As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.' But, sure, some Tereus hath defloured thee; Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : And, 'lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue. | Por such a sight will blind a father's eye : Ali, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, - What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, 0, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt.

ACT III,

I

SCENE 1.-Rome. A Street.

Ti. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Enter Senators, Tribunes, and officers of justice, Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. with MARTIus and QUINTUS, bound, passing on tr

Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you

speak. the place of execution ; Titus going before, pleading.

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ; Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; For all

my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, $ 1 And for these bitter tears, which now you see For that they will not intercept my tale : ' Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ;

When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Be pitiful to my condemned sons,

Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me ; Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! And, were they but attired in grave weeds, For two and twenty sons I never wept,

Rome could afford no tribune like to these. . ! Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write

stones : (Throwing himself on the ground. A stone is silent, and offendeth not; My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. And tribunes with their tongues doom men to Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite ;

death. My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon (Ereunt Sen., Trib., fc. with the prisoners.

drawn? O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,

Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their That shall distil from these two ancient urns,

death : Than youthful April shall with all his showers : For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still ; My everlasting doom of banishment. In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow, Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee." And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,

Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, So thout refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ? Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.

Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey,

But me and mine: How happy art thou then, O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men

From these devourers to be banished ? Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, But who comes with our brother Marcus here? And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators.

Enter Marcus and LAVINIA, Luc. 0, noble father, you lament in vain;

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep: The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,

Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break; / , And you recount your sorrows to a 'stone.

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own.

Tut. Will it consume me? let me see it then. And in the fountain shall we guze so long,
Mar. This was thy daughter.

Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is.

And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Luc. Ah mę ! this object kills me !

Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dun skom her :

Pass the remainder of our hateful days? Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand

What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? Plot some device of further misery, What fool hath added water to the sea ?

To make us wonder'd at in time to come. Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your My grief was at the height, before thou cam’st,

grief, And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too ; Mar. Patience, dear niece : - good Titus, dry For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain ;. And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life; Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot, In bootless prayer have they been held up,

Thy napkin cannot drink a tem of mine, And they have serv'd me effectless use:

For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thing Now, all the service I require of them Is, that the one will help to cut the other.

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;

Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark ! I understand het For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.

signs : Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd Had she a tongue to speak, now vould she say thee?

That to her brother which I said to thee;
Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
That blab’d them with such pleasing eloquence, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage;

O, what a sympathy of woe is this?
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung As far from help as limbo is from bliss !
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Irc O, say thou for her, who hath done this

Enter Aaron.
deed?

Qar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Sends thee this word, - That, if thou love thy son, Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer,

Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound. Or any one of you, chop off your hand,

Tit. It was my deer; and he that wounded her, And send it to the king : he, for the same,
Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead : Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
For now I stand as one upon a rock,

And that shall be the ransome for their fault. Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ;

Tit. O, gracious emperor ! O, gentle Aaron!' Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Did eyer raven sing so like a lark, Expecting ever when some envious surge

That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ? Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

With all my heart, I'll send the emperor This way to death my wretched sons are gone ; My hand; Here stands my other son, a banish'd man ; Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? And here my brother, weeping at my woes ; Luc. Stay, father : for that noble band of thise, But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, That bath thrown down so many enemies, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.

Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn: Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,

My youth can better spare my blood than you : It would have madded me; What shall I do And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives Now I behold thy lively body so ?

Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears ;

Rome, Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee : And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-are, Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death, Writing destruction on the enemy's castle! Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this: O, none of both but are of high desert : Look, Marcus ! ah, son Lucius, look on her! My hand hath been but idle ; let it serve When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears To ransome my two nephews from their death; Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew Then have I kept it to a worthy end. Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand skall Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd

along,
her husband :

For fear they die before their pardon rozne.
Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Mar. My hand shall go.
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Luc.

By beaven, it shall not get Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs a No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ;

these Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips ;

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy sa' Or make some sign how I may do thee ease : Let me redeem my brothers both from death. Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mehr And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain ;

care, Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks Now let me show a brother's love to thee How they are stain'd; like meadows, yet not dry Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my lued With miry slime left on them by a flood ?

Luc. Then I'U go fecoh an axe.

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But I will use the gre. To weep with them that weep Joth ease some deal,

(Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. But sorrow fouted at is double death. Fita Come hither, Aaron ; I'll deceive them Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a both;

wound, Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. And yet detested life not shrink thereat!

dar, If that be call’d deceit, I will be honest, That ever death should let life bear his name, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:

Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ! But I'll deceive you in another sort,

(LAYINLA kisses kimi And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [Agde. Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, [He cuts of Titus': hand. As frozen water to a starved snake.

Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end ? Enter Lucius and MARCUS.

Mar. Now, farewell, Aattery: Die, Andronicus Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is de- Thou dost not slumber : see, thy two sons' heads; spatch'd.

Thy warlike band; thy mangled daughter here; Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand :

Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, From thousand dangers; bid him bury it;

Even like a stony image, cold and numb. More hath it merited, that let it have,

Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs : As for my sons, say, I account of them

Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;

Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. The closing up of our most wretched eyes!

Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand, Now is a time to storm; why art thou still ? Look by and by to have thy sons with thee :

T'it. Ha, ha, ha! Their heads I mean, O, how this villainy (Aside. Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!

hour. Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Aaron will have his soul black like his face. (Erit. Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And would usurp upon my watry eyes, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth :

And make them blind with tributary tears; If any power pities wretched tears,

Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? To that I call :- What, wilt thou kneel with me? For these two heads do seem to speak to me,

[ To LAVINIA. And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, prayers :

Even in their throats that have committed them. Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, Come, let me see what task I have to do. And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, You heavy people, circle me about; When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. That I may turn me to each one of you,

Mar. O! brother, speak with possibilities, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. And do not break into these deep extremes.

The vow is made. - Come, brother, take a head; Tit. Is not my sorrow deep; having no bottom ? And in this hand the other will I bear: Then be my passions bottomless with them. Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things;

Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth,

Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; Then into limits could I bind my woes :

Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay : When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er. Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there : flow?

And, if you love me, as I think you do,
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face?

[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and LAVINIA. And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?

Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father ; I ain the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow! The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome ! She is the weeping welkin, I the earth :

Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again, Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ; He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Then must my earth with her continual tears Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister ; Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd;

0, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been! For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes, But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinią lives, But like a drunkard must I vomit them.

But in oblivion, and hateful griefs. Then give me leave; for losers will have leave If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. And make proud Saturninus and his empress

Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Enter a Messenger with two heads and a hand.

Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, Mesi. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Erit. For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;

SCENE II. - A Room in Titus's House. A And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;

Banquet set out. Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd :

Enter Titus, Marcus, LAVINIA, and young That woe is me to think upon thy woes, ore than remembrance of my father's death. (Exit.

Lucius, a boy Mar. Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily,

Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no more, And be my heart an ever-burning hell!

Than will preserve just so much strength in us hese miseries are more than may be borne ! As will revenge these bitter woes of ours,

Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot ;

Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mord, Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. And cannot passionate our tenfold grief

Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine

tears, Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;

And tears will quickly melt thy life away. – And when my heart, all mad with misery,

[MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife. Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,

What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? Then thus I thump it down.

Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord ; a fly. Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs ! Tit. Out on thee, murderer ! thou kill'st my

[To LAVINIA.

heart; When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. A deed of death, done on the innocent, Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans ; Becomes not Titus' brother: Get thee gone; Or get some little knife between thy teeth,

I see, thou art not for my company. And just against thy heart make thou a hole ; Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall,

Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and May run into that sink, and soaking in,

mother? Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. How would he hang his slender gilded wings,

Mar. Fye, brother, fye! teach her not thus to lay And buz lamenting doings in the air? Such violent hands upon her tender life.

Poor harmless fly! Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote That with his pretty buzzing melody, already?

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast bild Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.

him. What violent hands can she lay on her life!

Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill-favour'd Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;

fly, To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er,

Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd bine. How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ? Tit. 0, 0, 0, O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands ;

Then pardon me for reprehending thee, Lest we remember still, that we have none. - For thou hast done a charitable deed. Fye, fye, how frantickly I square my talk !

Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
As if we should forget we had no hands,

Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands! Come hither purposely to poison me.
Come, let's fall to, and, gentle girl, eat this : There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. -
Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; Ah, sirrah !
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs ;-

Yet I do think we are not brought so low,
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, But that, between us, we can kill a fly,
Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks: That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought an
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,

· him, As begging hermits in their holy prayers :

He takes false shadows for true substances Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia, go with me: Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet,

Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. laments :

(Ezera. Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The same.

Before Titus's House. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Enter Titus and Marcus.

Then enter young

Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator.
Lucius, LAVINIA running after him.

Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies the thres!
Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I gues
Follows me every where, I know not why :- Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to fex;
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt
Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these Loves me as dear as c'er my mother did,
signs ?

And would not, but in fury, fright my youth
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius:- Somewhat doth she which made me down to throw my books and fly

Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet sunt: See, Lucias, see, how much she makes of thee : And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, Somewhither would she have thee go with her. I will most willingly attend your ladyslip

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Mar. Lucius, I will.

There is enougn written upon this earth, [Lavinia turns over the books which Lucius To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, has let fall.

And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. Til. How now, Lavinia ? - Marcus, what means My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; this?,

And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; Some book there is that she desires to see ;

And swear with me, - as with the woful feere, Which is it, girl, of these? - Open them, boy. - And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame, But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd; Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, Come, and take choice of all my library,

That we will prosecute, by good advice,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.

And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how, Mar. I think, she means, that there was more But if you hurt these bear whelps, then beware : than one

The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, Confederate in the fact; - Ay, more there was :- She's with the lion deeply still in league, Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.

Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis ; You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone My mother gave't me.

And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, Mar.

For love of her that's gone, And with a gad of steel will write these words, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.

And lay it by : the angry northern wind Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad, Help her:

And where's your lesson then ?- Boy, what say What would she find ? - Lavinia, shall I read ? This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape; Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Mar. See, brother, see; note, how she quotes the Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft leaves.

For this ungrateful country done the like. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd, sweet girl, Boy. And uncle, so will I, an if I live. Ravish'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was,

Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury ; Fore'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods ? Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy 1 See, see !

Shall carry from me to the empress' sons Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, Presents, that I intend to send them both : (0, had we never, never, hunted there !)

Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders, and for rapes.

Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grand, Mar. 0, why should nature build so foul a den,

sire. Unless the gods delight in tragedies!

Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, - for here are none but friends,

Lavinia, come : - Marcus, look to my house ; What Roman lord it was durst do the deed : Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,

Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ?

(Exeunt Titus, LAVINIA, and Boy. Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ; – brother, sit down 'Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, by me. —

And not relent, or not compassion him? Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,

Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy ; Inspire me, that I may this treason find!

That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, My lord, look here ; – Look here, Lavinia : Than foe-men's marks upon his batter'd shiold : This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst, But yet so just, that he will not revenge:This after me, when I have writ my name

Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! - (Exil. Without the help of any hand at all. (He writes his name with his staff, and guides it SCENE II. - The same. A Room in the Palace.

with his feet and mouth. Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!

Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last,

door; at another door, young Lucius, and an What God will have discover'd for revenge :

Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,

writ upon them. That we may know the traitors, and the truth! Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it He hath some message to deliver to us. with her stumps, and writes.

Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandTil. O, do you read, my lord, what she hath

father. writ?

Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, Seuprum - Chiron Demetrius.

I greet your honours from Andronicus; Mar. What, what !- the lustful sons of Tamora And pray the Roman gods, confound you both. Performers of this heinous, bloody deed ?

[ Aside. Tit. Magne Dominator poli

Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: What's the Tam lentus audis scelera ? tam lentus vides? Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although I Bay. That you are both decipherd, that's the know,

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