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Tam. Where is thy brother Basianus ?
Sat. Now to the bottom dostihou scarch my wound; Poor Baffianus here lies murdered.
Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal Writ,
She giveth Saturninus a letter.
Saturninus reads the leiter.
Oh, Tamora! was ever heard the like?
Aar. My gracious lord here is the bag of gold.
Sat. Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life. To Titus. Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison, There let them bide, until we have devis'd Some never heard-of torturing pain for them. Tam. What, are they in this pit? oh wondrous
T'it. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee
Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent.
Tam, Andronicus himself did take it up.
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 fons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come, stay not to talk with them.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron, with Lavinia, ravish'd
her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out. Dem. O, now go tell (an if thy tongue can speak)
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ra
vish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning fo; And (if thy stumps will let thee) play the scribe.
Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can scroll.
Dem. She has no tongue to call, or hands to wash ; And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
Chi. If 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
Exeunt Dem. and Chiron.
S C Ε Ν Ε
Enter Marcus to Lavinia
, my Niece, that flies away so Cousin, a word: where is your husband ?
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!
He would have dropt his knife, and fell asleep,
A C T III.
S CE N E I.
A Street in Rome. Enter the Judges and Senators, with Marcus and Quintus
bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before, pleading.
EAR me, great fathers noble Tribunes stay,
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilft you securely slept : For all my blood in Rone's great quarrel shed, For all the frosty nights that I have watcht, And for these bitter tears, which you now see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose fouls are not corrupted, as 'tis thought. For two and twenty fons I never wept, Because they died in Honour's losty bed.
[Andronicus lieth down, and the Judges pass by him. For these, these, Tribunes, in the dust I write My heart's deep langour, and my soul's sad tears : Let my tears ftanch the earth's dry appetite, My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush: O earth! I will befriend thee more with rain,
Exeunt. That shall diftil from these two ancient urns, L 6
Than youthful April shall with all his showers;
Enter Lucius with his sword drawn.
Luc. Oh, noble father, you lament in vain;
Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead;Grave Tribunes, once niore I intreat 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, They would not pity me. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who, tho' they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they're better than the Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And were i hey but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no Tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax, Tribunes inore hard than stones: A stone is filent, and offendeth noi, 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 everlasting doom of banishment.
Tit. O happy man, they have befriended thee: Why, foolith Lucius, dost thou not perceive, That Rone is but a wilderness of Tygers ;