Dem. Come, let us go, and pray to all the Gods
For our beloved mother in her pains.
Aar. Pray to the devils, the Gods have given us over,
[Flourish.
Dem. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourish thus ?
Chi. Belike for joy the Emp'ror hath a fon.
Dem. Soft, who comes here ?
SCENE III. Enter nurfe with a Black-a-moor child.
Nur. Good-morrow, noble Lords: .
O tell me, did you fee Aaron the Moor?
Aar. Well, more or lefs, or ne'er a whit at all,
Here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now?
Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone.
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore !
Aar. Why what a caterwauling doft thou keep ?
What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
Nur. O that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our Emprefs' fhame, and ftately Rome's difgrace.
She is deliver'd, Lords, the is deliver❜d.
Nur. I mean, that fhe is brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God give her good reft! what hath he fent her? Nur. A devil.
Aar. Why then he is the devil's dam:
Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black and forrowful issue. Here is the babe, as loathfome as a toad,
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The Empress fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal,
And bids thee chriften it with thy dagger's point.
Aar. Out, out, you whore, is black fo bafe a hue ?
Sweet blowfe, you are a beauteous bloffom fure.
Dem. Villain, what haft thou done?
Aar. That which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother.
Dem. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice, Accurs'd the off-fpring of fo foul a fiend!
Chi. It fhall not live..
Aar. It fhall not die.
Nur. Aaron, it must, the mother wills it fe.
Aar. What, muft it, nurfe? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood.
Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point:
Nurse, give it me, my sword fhall foon dispatch it.
Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up.
Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother?
Now by the burning tapers of the sky,
That fhone fo brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my fcimitar's fharp point,
That touches this my firft-born.fon and heir.
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus
With all his threatning band of Typbon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the God of war,
Shall feize this prey out of his father's hands
s;
What, what, y'unfanguine fhallow-hearted boys,
Ye white-limb'd walls, ye alehoufe painted figns,
Coal-black is better than another hue,
In that it fcorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean.
Can never turn the fwan's black legs to white,
Although the leave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the Empress from me, I am of age
To keep mine own, excufe it how the can.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ?
Aar. My miftrefs is my miftrefs; this, my.felf;
The vigour and the picture of my youth:
This, before all the world, do I prefer ;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe,
Or fome of you fhall smoke for it in Rome.
Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd.
Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul escape.
Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.
Chi. I blufh to think upon this ignominy.
Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears:
Fine treacherous hue, that will betray with blufhing
The close enacts and counfels of the heart:
Here's a young lad fram'd of another's leer,
Look how the black flave fmiles upon the father
As who fhould fay, Old lad, I am thine own
He is your brother, Lords; fenfibly fed
Of that felf-blood that firft gave life to you,
And from that womb where you imprison'd were,
He is infranchifed and come to light:
Nay, he's your brother by the furer fide,
Although my feal be ftamped in his face.
Nur. Aaron, what fhall I fay unto the Empress ?
Dem. Advife thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all fubfcribe to thy advice:
Save thou the child, fo we may be all fafe.
Aar. Then fit we down, and let us all confult.
My fon and I will have the wind of you:
Keep there now talk at pleasure of your fafety.
[They fit on the ground. -
Dem. How many women faw this child of his?
Aar. Why, fo, brave Lords, when we all join in league,
I am a lamb, but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean fwells not fo as Aaron ftorms:
But fay again, how many faw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and my self.
And no one elfe but the deliver'd Emprefs.
Aar. The Emprefs, the midwife, and your felf-
Two may keep counfel, when the third's away :
Go to the Emprefs, tell her, this I faid-- [He kills her.
Week, week! fo cries a pig prepar'd to th' fpit. [this?
Dem. What mean'ft thou, Aaron? wherefore didft thou-
Aar. O Lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of policy:
Shall fhe live to betray this guilt of ours?
A long-tongu'd babling goffip? no, Lords, nos
And now be it known to you my full intent :
Not, far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman,
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed,
His child is like to her, fair as you are:
Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumftance of all,
And how by this their child fhall be advanc'd,
And be received for the Emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calm this tempeft whirling in the Court;
And let the Emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, my Lords, ye fee I have given her phyfick,
And you must needs beftow her funeral ;
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
This done, fee that you take no longer days,
But fend the midwife prefently to me.
The midwife and the nurse well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Chi. Aaron, I fee thou wilt not trust the air
With fecrets.
Dem. For this care of Tamora,
Her felf and hers are highly bound to thee,
Aar. Now to the Goths, as fwift as swallow flies,
There to difpofe this treasure in my arms,
And fecretly to greet the Emprefs' friends.
Come on, you thick-lip'd flave, I bear you hence,
For it is you that put us to our shifts:
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
And feast on curds and whey, and fuck the goat,
And cabin in a cave, and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp.
SCENE IV. A Street near the Palace. Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other Gentlemen with bors, and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the end of them.
Tit. Come, Marcus, come; kinfmen, this is the way. Sir boy, now let me fee your archery.
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there ftraight;
Terras Aftræa reliquit-be you remember'd, Marcus-
She's gone, fhe's fled-Sirs, take you to your tools;
You, coufins, shall go found the ocean,
And caft your nets, haply you may find her in the fea,
Yet there's as little juftice as at land-
No, Publius and Sempronius; you must do it,
'Tis you muft dig with mattock and with fpade
And pierce the inmost center of the earth:
Then when you come to Pluto's region,
I pray you to deliver this petition,
Tell him it is for justice, and for aid;
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with forrows in ungrateful Rome.
Ah Rome!-well, well, I made thee miferable,
What time I threw the people's fuffrages
On him, that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
Go get you gone, and pray be careful all,
And leave you not a man of war unfearch'd ;
This wicked Emperor may have fhip'd her hence,
And, kinfmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. Oh Publius, is not this a heavy cafe,
To fee thy noble uncle thus diftract?
Pub. Therefore, my Lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night t' attend him carefully:
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
'Till time beget fome careful remedy.
Mar. Kinfmen, his forrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my mafters, what? Have you met with her?
Pub. No, my good Lord, but Pluto fends you word,
If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:
Marry for juftice, fhe is now employ'd,
He thinks with Jove in heav'n, or fomewhere 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 th' heels.
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops fize,
But metal, Marcus, fteel to th' very back,
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear.
And fith there's no justice in earth or hell,
We will follicit heav'n, and move the Gods,
To fend down Juftice for to wreak our wrongs:
Come to this gear, you're a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows,
Ad Jovem, that's for you-here ad Apollinem-
Ad Martem, that's for my self;
Here, boy, to Pallas-here to Mercury-
To Saturn and to Calus-not to Saturnine-
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