Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but loft her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler few'd her mind :
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus haft thou met withal,4
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better few'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the filken strings delight to kiss them;
He would not then have touch'd them for his life:
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,..
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's 5 feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind :
For fuch a fight will blind a father's eye :
One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ;
What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee;
O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt,

4

- haft thou met withal,] The word withal, is wanting in edition 1600. TODD.

5

-Thracian poet's - Orpheus. STEEVENS.

: :

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
In dangerous wars, whilft you securely flept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
And for these bitter tears, which now you fee
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned fons,
Whose fouls are not corrupted as 'tis thought!
For two and twenty fons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write

[Throwing himself on the Ground.

My heart's deep languor, and my foul's sad tears.
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;
My fons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with the
Prisoners.

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,

• For these, these, tribunes,] The latter these was added for the fake of the metre, by the editor of the second folio.

MALONE.

7

That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow,
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear fons' blood.

Enter-LUCIUS, with his Sword drawn.

0, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men !
Unbind my fons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.

Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain;
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
And you recount your forrows to a ftone.

TIT. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you.

Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you

speak.

TIT. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, They would not mark me; or, if they did mark,

7

9

- two ancient urns,] Oxford editor. Vulg. two ancient ruins. JOHNSON.

Edition 1600,-ruines, as in other old copies. TODD.

9

* O, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men!] Edition 1600:

Oh reverent tribunes, oh gentle aged men. TODD.

-or, if they did mark,

All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.

Therefore &c] The edition 1600, thus:

- or if they did marke,

They would not pitty me, yet pleade I must,
All bootless unto them.

Therefore &c.

This I conceive to be the right reading. TODD.
VOL. XXI.

F

All bootless to them, they'd not pity me.
Therefore I tell my forrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some fort they're better than the tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale:
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than

stones:

A stone is filent, and offendeth not;
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 everlafting 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 tigers?
Tigers 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 fo, thy noble heart to break; I bring confuming forrow to thine age.

A stone is foft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones :)

The author, we may suppose, originally wrote:
Stone's foft as wax, &c. STEEVENS.

TIT. Will it confume me? let me fee it then.

MAR. This was thy daughter.

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 fight ?3
What fool hath added water to the sea ?

Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy ?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'ft,
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.-
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too ;4
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have ferv'd me to effectless use :
Now, all the service I require of them
Is, that the one will help to cut the other.-
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.

2

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd

thee?

Speak, my Lavinia,] My, which is wanting in the first folio, was supplied by the second. STEEVENS.

4

in thy father's fight?) We should read-spight?

WARBURTON.

-I'll chop off my hands too ;) Perhaps we should read :

or chop off &c.

It is not easy to discover how Titus, when he had chopped off one of his hands, would have been able to have chopped off the other. STEEVENS.

I have no doubt but the text is as the author wrote it. Let him answer for the blunder. In a subsequent line Titus supposes himself his own executioner :

"Now all the service I require of them" &c. MALONE.