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ACT IV.

SCENE I.

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.

H Follows me every where, I know not why.

ELP, grandfire, help; my Aunt Lavinia

Good uncle Marcus, fee, how swift fhe comes:
Alas, fweet Aunt, I know not what you mean.
Mar. Stand by me, Lucius, do not fear thy Aunt.
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, fhe did.
Mar. What means my Niece Lavinia by these figns?
Tit. Fear thou not, Lucius, fomewhat doth she mean:
See, Lucius, fee, how much fhe makes of thee:
Some whither would fhe have thee go with her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

Read to her fons, than fhe hath read to thee,
Sweet poetry, and Tully's oratory:

Canft thou not guess wherefore fhe plies thee thus ?
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless fome fit or frenzy do poffefs her:
For I have heard my grandfire fay full oft,
Extremity of grief would make men mad.
And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy

Ran mad through forrow; that made me to fear;
Although, my lord, I know my noble Aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my Mother did :
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth;
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly,
Caufelefs, perhaps; but pardon me, sweet Aunt;
And, Madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

I will moft willingly attend your ladyfhip.

Mar.

Mar. Lucius. I will.

Tit. How now, Lavinia? Marcus, what means this? Some book there is that fhe defires to fee. Which is it, girl, of thefe? open them, boy. But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd: Come and make choice of all my library, And fo beguile thy forrow, 'till the heav'ns Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed: Why lifts the up her arms in fequence thus ?

Mar. I think, she means, that there was more than

one

Confederate in the fact. Ay, more there was:
Or else to heav'n fhe heaves them for revenge.
Tit. Lucius, what book is that fhe toffes fo?
Boy. Grandfire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphofes ;
My Mother gave it me.

Mar. For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps he cull'd it from among the reft.

Tit. Soft! fee, how bufily fhe turns the leaves ! Help her what would fhe find? Lavinia, fhall I read!

This is the tragic Tale of Philomel,

And treats of Tereus' treafon and his rape ;

And rape,

I fear, was root of thine annoy.

Mar. See, brother, fee; note, how the quotes the leaves.

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus furpriz'd, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd as Philomela was,

Forc'd in the ruthless, vaft, and gloomy woods?
See, fee;

Ay, fuch a place there is, where we did hunt,
(O had we never, never, hunted there!)
Pattern'd by That the Poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.

Mar. O, why fhould Nature build so foul a den, Unless the Gods delight in tragedies!

Tit. Give figns, fweet Girl, for here are none but friends,

What

What Roman lord it was durft do the deed;
Or flunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erft,
That left the camp to fin in Lucrece' bed?

Mar. Sit down, fweet niece; brother, fit down by

me.

Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,

Infpire me, that I may this treason find.
My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia.

[He writes his name with his staff, and guides it
with his feet and mouth.

This fandy Plot is plain; guide, if thou canft,
This after me, when I have writ my name,
Without the help of any hand at all.

Curft be that heart that forc'd us to this fhift!
Write thou good niece; and here difplay, at leaft,
What God will have discover'd for revenge;

Heav'n guide thy pen, to print thy forrows plain, That we may know the traitors, and the truth!

[She takes the ftaff in her mouth, and guides it with her ftumps, and writes.

Tit. Oh, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius."

Mar. What, what!-the luftful fons of Tamora Performers of this hateful bloody deed?

Tit. Magne Regnator Poli,

Tam lentus audis fcelera! tam lentus vides!

Mar. Oh, calm thee, gentle lord; although, I know,

There is enough written upon this earth,
To ftir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of Infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia kneel,
And kneel, fweet boy, the Roman Hector's Hope,
And fwear with me, (as, with the woful peer,
And father, of that chafte difhonour'd Dame,
Lord Junius Brutus fware for Lucrece' rape.)
VOL. VII.

M

That

That we will profecute (by good advice)
Mortal revenge upon thefe traiterous Goths;
And fee their blood, or die with this reproach.
Tit. 'Tis fure enough, if you knew how.
But if you hurt thefe bear-whelps, then beware,
The dam will wake; and if she wind you once,
She's with the lion deeply ftill in league;
And lulls him whilft the playeth on her back,
And, when he fleeps, will she do what she lift.
You're a young Huntsman, Marcus, let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of fteel will write these words,
And lay it by; the angry northern wind
Will blow thefe fands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,
And where's your leffon then? boy, what fay you!
Boy. I fay, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be fafe,
For thefe bad bond-men to the yoke of Rome.
Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
For this ungrateful Country done the like.
Boy. And, nuncle, fo will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into my armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the Emprefs' fons
Prefents, that I intend to fend them both.

Come, come, thou'lt do my meffage, wilt thou not? Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bofom, grandfire.

Tit. No, boy, not fo; I'll teach thee another course.

Lavinia, come; Marcus, look to my House:

Lucius and I'll go brave it at the Court,

Ay, marry, will we, Sir; and we'll be waited on.

[Exeunt.

Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compaffion him?

Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,

That hath more scars of forrow in his heart,

Than

Than foe-men's marks upon his batter'd shield;
But yet fo juft, that he will not revenge;
Revenge thee, Heav'ns! for old Andronicus.

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[Exit.

Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door: and at another door young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons and verfes writ upon them. Chi. DEMETRIUS, here's the Son of Lucius;

He hath fome meffage to deliver us.

Aar. Ay, fome mad message from his mad grandfather.

Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your Honours from Andronicus;

And pray the Roman Gods, confound you Both.
Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news?
Boy. That you are both decypher'd (that's the
news)

For villains mark'd with rape. May it please you,
My grandfire, well advis'd, hath fent by me
The goodlieft weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for fo he bad me fay:
And fo I do, and with his gifts prefent
Your lordships, that whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well.

And fo I leave you, both, like bloody villains. [Exit. Dem. What's here, a feroll, and written round about?

Let's fee.

Integer vitæ, fcelerifque purus,

Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well:

I read it in the Grammar long ago.

M -2

Aar.

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