If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out; Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Enter SATURNINUS and AARON. [Falls in. Sat. Along with me :- I'll see what hole is here, Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus; Sat. My brother dead? I know, thou dost but jest: Mart. We know not where you left him all alive, But, out alas! here have we found him dead. Enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and LUCIUS. Tam. Where is my lord, the king? Sat. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing grief. Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound; Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy; timeless-] i. e. Untimely. [Giving a Letter. And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold Sat. [reads.] An if we miss to meet him handsomely, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean, — Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; Thou know'st our meaning: Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder tree, Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. O, Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit, and this the elder-tree : Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out, That should have murder'd Bassianus here. Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. [Showing it. Sat. Two of thy whelps, [to TIT.] fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life : Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. Tam. What, are they in this pit? O wond'rous thing! How easily murder is discover'd ! Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.- Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail: Sat. Thou shalt not bail them; see, thou follow me. Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. [Exeunt severally. SCENE V. The same. Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA, ravished; her Hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can scowl. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON. Enter MARCUS. Mar. Who's this, my niece, that flies away so fast? Cousin, a word; Where is your husband?If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me!s If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep!Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches? those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in; And might not gain so great a happiness, As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me!] If this be a dream, I by waking.-JOHNSON. would give all my possessions to be delivered from it by Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep. [Exeunt. Thracian poet's] Orpheus. ACT III. SCENE I.Rome. A Street. Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of justice, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of Execution; Titus going before, pleading. Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought! For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write [Throwing himself on the ground. My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. [Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with the Prisoners. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. Enter LUCIUS, with his Sword drawn.. O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men! Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain : |