And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death: For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment. Tit. O, happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, That Rome is but a wilderness of tygers? Tygers must prey; and Rome affords no prey, But me and mine: How happy art thou then, From these devourers to be banished? But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA. Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break; I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. Luc. Ah me, this object kills me. Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her: Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? And they have serv'd me to effectless use: Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear. Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death, When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Mar. Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Or make some signs how I may do thee ease: To make us wonder'd at in time to come. Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief, See, how my wretched sister sobs 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, hast drown'd it with thine own. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: Had she a tongue to speak, now she would say That to her brother which I said to thee; His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this! As far from help as limbo is from bliss. Enter AARON. Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine, Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, Writing destruction on the enemies' castles? O, none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath been but idle; let it serve To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then have I kept it to a worthy end. Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. Mar. My hand shall go. Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. Tit. Agree between you: I will spare my hand. Mar. But I will use the axe. [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 called deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say, e'er half an hour can pass. [Aside. [He cuts off TrTus's Hand. Enter LUCIUS and MARCUS. Tit. Now, stay your strife; what shall be, is des patch'd. |