Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters? What,

Have you met with her?

If

Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word you will have revenge from hell, you shall.

Marry, for Justice, she is so employed,

He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or some where else, So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below,

And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.-
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;

No big-boned men, framed of the Cyclop's size:
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;

Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear.
And sith there is no justice in earth nor hell,
We will solicit heaven; and move the gods
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs.
Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows.
Ad Jovem, that's for you.-Here, ad Apollinem.-
Ad Martem, that's for myself;-

Here, boy, to Pallas ;-here, to Mercury;

To Saturn, Caius,3 not to Saturnine,

You were as good to shoot against the wind.

To it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid.

O' my word, I have written to effect;

There's not a god left unsolicited.

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court; We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well said, Lucius !

Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

1 Revenge.

2 Gear is here put for matter, business.

3 Caius appears to have been one of the kinsmen of Titus.

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.
Mar. This was the sport, my lord. When Publius
shot,

The bull, being galled, gave Aries such a knock,
That down fell both the ram's horns in the court;
And who should find them but the empress' villain?
She laughed, and told the Moor, he should not choose
But give them to his master 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 post is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? He says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

Clo. From heaven? Alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid, I should be so bold to press to 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 emperial's men.

1

Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve 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?

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all

my life.

1 The clown means to say, plebeian tribune; i. e. tribune of the people. Hanmer supposes that he means tribunus plebis.

Tit. Sirrah, come hither. Make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor;

By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.

Hold, hold;-meanwhile, here's money for thy charges.

Give me a pen and ink.—

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? Clo. Ay, sir.

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach, you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward; I'll be at hand, sir. See you do it bravely.

Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone.

Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;

For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.—
And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
Clo. God be with you, sir; I will.

Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go ;-Publius, follow me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace.

Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEmetrius, Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot.

Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was ever

seen

An emperor of Rome thus overborne,

Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
Of egal1 justice, used in such contempt?

My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath passed,
But even with law, against the wilful sons

1 Equal.

Of old Andronicus.

And what an if

His sorrows have so overwhelmed his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
This to Apollo; this to the god of war ;
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humor, is it not, my lords?
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies

Shall be no shelter to these outrages;
But he and his shall know that justice lives
In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator 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,
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,

Whose loss hath pierced him deep, and scarred his heart;

And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become
High-witted Tamora to gloze1 with all.
But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out; if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port.-

Enter Clown.

[Aside.

How now, good fellow? Wouldst thou speak with us? Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial. Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clo. 'Tis he.-God, and saint Stephen, give you

1 Flatter.

good den.-I have brought you a letter, and a couple of pigeons here. [SAT. reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clo. How much money must I have?

Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.

Clo. Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded. Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!

Shall I endure this monstrous villany?

I know from whence this same device proceeds;
May this be borne ?-as if his traitorous sons,
That died by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butchered wrongfully.-
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;
Nor age, nor honor, shall shape privilege.
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughterman;
Sly, frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter EMILIUS.

What news with thee, Æmilius ?

Æmil. Arm, arm, my lords; Rome never had more cause!

The Goths have gathered head; and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,

They hither march amain, under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;

Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do

As much as ever Coriolanus did.

Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me.; and I hang the head,

As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms. Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach. 'Tis he the common people love so much; Myself hath often overheard them say, (When I have walked like a private man,) That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,

And they have wished that Lucius were their emperor. Tam. Why should you fear? Is not your city strong?