Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee doat al ready? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands ;- How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? If Marcus did not name the word of hands!- 330 She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, And, by still practice, learn to know the meaning. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments; Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 350 Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. [MARCUS strikes the Dish with a Knife. A deed of death, done on the innocent, Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. 360 Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buz lamenting doings in the air? Poor harmless fly! That with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd him. Mar. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly, Like to the emperess' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. 0, 0, 0, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, 370 For thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Mar. Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances. Tit. Come, take away.—Lavinia, go with me: 389 [Exeunt. ACV IV. SCENE 1. TITUS's House. Enter young LuCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him; and the Boy flies from her, with his Books under his Arm. Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Boy. HELP, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why :1 Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes! Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee Boy. Ah, when my father was in Rome, she did. Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :-Somewhat doth she See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee: 10 Sweet poetry, and Tully's oratory. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ? Ran mad through sorrow; That made me to fear; 20 And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Which made me down to throw my books, and fly; Causeless, perhaps : But pardon, me sweet aunt : And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. Mar. Lucius, Tit. How now, this? will. Lavinia ?-Marcus, what means Some book there is that she desires to see : Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.- 30 Why Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus ? Mar. I think, she means, that there was more than one Confederate in the fact ;-Ay, more there was:- Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Mar. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. 40 Tit. Soft! soft, how busily she turns the leaves! Help her: What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape; And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. 50 Mar. See, brother see; note, how she quotes the leaves. Tit. Lavinia, were't thou thus surpriz'd sweet girl, Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den, 60 Unless the gods delight in tragedies! Tit. Give signs, sweet girl,-for here are none but friends, Fiij What |