Mar. My Lord, I am a mile beyond the Moon; Your Letter is with Jupiter by this.
Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what haft thou done? See, fee, thou haft fhot off one of Taurus's Horns.
Mar. This was the fport, my Lord, when Publius shot,
The Bull being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock,
That down fell both the Rams Horns in the Court,
And who fhould find them but the Emprefs, Villain:
She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not chufe
But give them to his Mafter for a present.
Tit. Why there it goes, God give your Lordship joy.
Enter a Clown with a Basket and two Pigeons.
News, News from Heaven;
Marcus, the Poft is c ́ me.
Sirrah, what Tydings? have you any Letters?
Shall I have Juftice, what fays Jupiter?
Clow. Who? the Gibbet-maker? he fays that he hath taken them down again, for the Man muft not be hang'd 'till the next Week.
Tit. Tur, what fays Jupiter, I ask thee?
Clow. Alas, Sir, I know not Jupiter,
I never drank with him in all my Life.
Tit. Way Villain, art not thou the Carrier?
Clow. Ay, of my Pigeons, Sir, nothing else.
Tit. Why, didft thou not come from Heaven?
Clow. From Heaven? Alas, Sir, I never came there.
God forbid I fhould be fo bold to prefs into Heaven in my
young Days. Why I am going with my Pigeons to the
Tribunal Plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my
Uncle and one of the Emperials Men.
Mar. Why, Sir, that is as fit as can be to ferve for your Oration, and let him deliver the Pigeons to the Emperor from you.
Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an Oration to the Emperor with a Grace?
Clow. Nay, truly, Sir, I could never fay Grace in all my Life.
Tit. Sirrah, come hither, make no more ado,
But give your Pigeons to the Emperor.
By me thou shalt have Juftice at his Hands.
Hold, hold- -mean while here's Mony for thy Charges.
Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliver a Supplication?
Clow. Ay, Sir.
Tit. Then here is a Supplication for you: and when you come to him, at the firft approach you must kneel, then kifs his Foot, then deliver up your Pigeons, and then look for your Reward. I'll be at hand, Sir, fee you do it bravely.
Clow. I warrant you, Sir, let me alone.
Tut. Sirrah, haft thou a Knife? Come, let me fee it.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the Oration,
For thou haft made it like an humble Suppliant,
And when thou haft given it the Emperor,
Knock at my Door, and tell me what he says.
Clow. God be with you, Sir, I will.
Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go, Publius follow me.
[Exeunt. Enter Emperor and Empress, and her two Sons; the Emperor 91 brings the Arrows in his Hand that Titus fhot.
What Wrongs are these? was ever feen
An Emperor of Rome thus over-born,
Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent
Of equal Juftice, us'd in fuch Contempt ?
My Lords, you know, as do the mightful Gods,
(However the difturbers of our Peace
Buz in the Peoples Ears) there nought hath past,
But even with Law against the wilful Sons
Of old Andronicus. And what and if
His Sorrows have fo over-whelm'd his Wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenfie, and his bitternels?
And now he writes to Heaven for his redrefs.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury,
This to Apollo, this to the God of War:
Sweet Scrowls to fly about the Streets of Rome.
What's this but Libelling against the Senate,
And blazoning our Injuftice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my Lords?
As who would fay, in Rome no Juftice were.
But if I live, his feigned Extafies
Shall be no fhelter to thefe Outrages:
But he and his fhall know, that Juftice lives
In Saturninus health, whom, if the fleep,
He'll fo awake, as the in fury fhall
Cut off the proude ft Confpirator that lives.
Tam. My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my Life, Commander of my Thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus Age, Th' effects of Sorrow for his valiant Sons, Whofe lofs hath pierc'd him deep, and fearr'd his Heart; And rather comfort his diftreffed plight,
Than profecute the meaneft or the beft,
For these Contempts. Why thus it fhall become
High witted Tamora to glofe with all:
But Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,.
Thy Life-blood on't: If Aaron now be wife,
Then is all fafe, the Anchor's in the Port.
How now, good Fellow, wouldft thou fpeak with us?
Clow. Yea forfooth, and your Mifterfhip be Emperial.
Tam. Empress I am, but yonder fits the Emperor.
Clow. Tis he: God and St. Stephen give you good-e'en,
I have brought you a Letter and a couple Pigeons here.
He reads the Letter
Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him prefently.
Clow. How much Mony muft I have?
Tam. Come, Sirrah, thou must be hang'd.
Clow. Hang'd! by'r Lady, then I have brought up a Neck
Sat. Delpightful and intolerable Wrongs,
Shall I endure this monftrous Villany?
I know from whence this fame Device proceeds:
May this be born? As if his Traiterous Sons,
That dy'd by Law for Murther of our Brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully?
Go, drag the Villain, hither by the Hair,
Nor Age nor Honour fhall fhape Privilege.
For this proud mock I'll be thy Slaughter-man;
Sly frantick Wretch, that holp'ft to make me great,.
In hope thy felf fhould govern Rome and me.
Enter Nuntius Æmilius.
Sat. What News with thee, Æmilius?
Emil. Arm, my Lords, Rome never had more cause ;
The Goths have gather'd head, and with a Power
Of high refolv'd Men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under the Condu&
Of Lucius, Son to old Andronicus:
Who threats in courfe of his revenge to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.
Sat. Is warlike Lucius General of the Goths?
Thefe Tydings nip me, and I hang the Head
As Flowers with Frolt, or Grafs beat down with Storms. Ay, now begin our Sorrows to approach, 'Tis he the Common People love so much, My felf hath often heard them say, (When I have walked like a private Man)
That Lucius Banishment was wrongfully,
And they have wifh'd that Lucius were their Emperor.
Tam. Why fhould you fear? Is not our City ftrong?
Sat. Ay, but the Citizens favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me, to fuccour him.
Tam. King, be thy Thoughts imperious like thy Name,
Is the Sun dim'd, that Gnats do fly in it?
The Eagle fuffers little Birds to fing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the Shadow of his Wings,
He can at pleasure ftint their melody;
Even fo may'st thou the giddy Men of Rome.
Then cheer thy Spirit, for know, thou Emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus,
With Words more fweet, and yet more dangerous
Than baits to Fish, or Honey-ftalks to Sheep,
When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious Food.
Sat. But he will not intreat his Son for us.
Tum. If Tamora intreat him, then he will,
For I can smooth, and fill his aged Ear
With golden Promifes, that were his Heart
Almot impregnable, his old Ears deaf,
Yet thould both Ear and Heart obey my Tongur.
Go thou before as our Ambaffador,
Say, that the Emperor requests a Parley
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting.
Sat. Æmilins, do this Meffage honourably,
And if he ftand on Hotage for his fafety,
Bid him demand what Pledge will please him beft.
Amil. Your bidding fhall I do effectually.
Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus,
And temper him with all the Art I have,
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, fweet Emperor, be blith again,
And bury all thy Fear in my Devices.
Sat. Then go fuccefsfully and plead for me.
ACT V. SCENE I.
SCENE A Camp.
Enter Lucius with Goths, with Drum and Soldiers.
Approved Warriors, and my faithful Friends.
have received Letters from great Rome, Which fignifie what hate they bear their Emperor, And how defirous of our fight they are.
Therefore, great Lords, be as your Titles witness,
Imperious and impatient of your Wrongs,
And wherein Rome hath done you any fcathe,
Let him make treble Satisfaction.
Goth. Brave Slip, fprung from the great Andronicus,
Whofe Name was once our Terror, now our Comfort,
Whofe high Exploits, and Honourable Deeds,
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul Contempt,
Be bold in us, we'll follow where thou lead'ft:
Like ftinging Bees in hotteft Summer's Day,
Led by their Mafter to the flower'd Fields,
And be aveng'd on curfed Tamora.
Omn. And as he faith, fo fay we all with him.
Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.
But who comes here led by a lufty Goth?
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