Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th'effects of forrow for his valiant fons,

Whofe lofs hath pierc'd him deep, and fcarr'd his heart;

And rather comfort his diftreffed plight,

Than profecute the meaneft, or the best,

་

For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become [Afide.
High-witted Tamora to glofe with all :

But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all fafe, the anchor's in the port.

Enter Clown.

How, now, good fellow, wouldft thou fpeak with us? Clo. Yes, forfooth, an your Miftresfhip be Emperial. Tam. Emperefs I am, but yonder fits the Emperor. Clown. 'Tis he. God and St. Stephen give you good Even :

I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.

[The Emperor reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clown. How much money must I have?

Tam. Come, firrah, thou must be hang'd.

Clown. Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.

Sat. Defpightful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monftrous villany?

[Exit.

I know, from whence this fame device proceeds.
May this be borne? as if his traiterous fons,
That dy'd by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair,
Nor age nor honour fhall fhape privilege.
For this proud mock I'll be thy flaughter-man;
Sly frantick wretch, that holp'ft to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

8 Enter Emilius.

Sat. What news with thee, Emilius?

Emil. Arm, arm, my Lords; Rome never had more caufe;

The Goths have gather'd head, and with a Power
Of high refolved men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under the Conduct
Of Lucius, fon to old Andronicus,

Who threats in courfe of his revenge to do

As much as ever Coriolanus did.

Sat. Is warlike Lucius General of the Goths?
Thefe tidings nip me, and I hang the head
As flowers with froft, or grafs beat down with ftorms.
Ay, now begin our forrows to approach;
'Tis he, the common people love fo much,
Myfelf hath often over-heard them fay,
When I have walked like a private man,
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,

And they have wifh'd, that Lucius were their Emperor.
Tam. Why fhould you fear? is not our city ftrong?
Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me, to fuccour him.

Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy

name.

Is the fun dim'd, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle fuffers little birds to fing,

And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing, that with the fhadow of his wings
He can at pleasure ftint their melody;

8 Enter Nantius Æmilius.] Thus the old books have defcribed this Character. In the Author's Manufcrip, I prefume, 'twas wiit, Enter Nuntius; and they obferving, that he is immediately called nilius, thought proper to give him his whole

Even fo may'st thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy fpirit, for know, thou Emperor,

I will enchant the old Andronicus

With words more fweet, and yet more dangerous,
Than baits to fish, or honey-ftalks to fheep:
When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious food.

Sat. But he will not intreat his fon for us.
Tam. If Tamora intreat him, then he will;
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ear
With golden promises; that were his heart
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
Yet fhould both ear and heart obey my tongue.
Go thou before as our embaffador;

[To Æmilius. Say, that the Emperor requests a parley Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting. Sat. Emilius, do this meffage honourably; And if he stand on hoftage for his safety,

Bid him demand what pledge will pleafe him beft.
Emil. Your bidding fhall I do effectually. [Exit.
Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus,

And temper him, with all the art I have,
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, fweet Emperor, be blith again,
And bury all thy fear in my devices.
Sat. Then go fuccefsfully, and plead to him.

boney talks to feep] Honey-ftalks are clover flowers, which contain a fweet juice. It

[Exeunt.

is common for cattle to overcharge themselves with clover, and die.

ACT

ACT V. SCENE I

The Camp, at a Small Distance from Rome.

Enter Lucius with Goths, with drum and foldiers.

A

LUCIUS.

PPROVED warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which fignify, what hate they bear their Emp'ror, And how defirous of our fight they are. Therefore, great Lords, be, as ye titles witness, Imperious and impatient of your wrongs; And wherein Rome hath done you any fcathe, Let him make treble fatisfaction

Goth. Brave flip, fprung from the great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort; Whofe high exploits and honourable deeds Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us, we'll follow, where thou lead'st, Like ftinging bees in hottest summer's day, Led by their master to the flower'd fields, And be aveng'd on curfed Tamora.

Omn. And, as he faith, so say we all with him. Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lufty Goth?

Enter a Goth leading Aaron, with his child in bis Arms.

Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I ftray'd To gaze upon a ruinous monaftery; And as I earnestly did fix mine eye

Upon

Upon the wafted building, fuddenly
I heard a child cry underneath a wall;
I made unto the noife, when foon I heard

The crying babe controul'd with this discourse : "Peace, tawny flave, half me and half thy dam. "Did not thy hue bewray whofe brat thou art, "Had Nature lent thee but thy mother's look,

Villain, thou might'st have been an Emperor; "But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, "They never do beget a coal-black calf;

"Peace, villain, peace! (ev'n thus he rates the babe) "For I muft bear thee to a trufty Goth;

"Who, when he knows thou art the Emperefs' babe, "Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's fake." With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, Surpriz'd him fuddenly, and brought him hither, To ufe as you think needful of the man.

Luc. O worthy Goth, this is th' incarnate Devil,
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand;
This is the Pearl that pleas'd your Emperefs' eye,
And here's the bafe fruit of his burning luft.
Say, wall-ey'd flave, whither would't thou convey
This growing image of thy fiend-like face?
Why doft not speak? what! deaf? no! not a word?
A halter, foldiers; hang him on this tree,
And by his fide his fruit of baftardy.

Aar. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood.
Luc. Too like the fire for ever being good.
First, hang the child, that he may fee it iprawl,
A fight to vex the father's foul withal.

'Get me a ladder.

Aar. Lucius, fave the child,

And bear it from me to the Emperefs;

Aar. Get me a Ladder. Lucius, fave the Child.] All the printed Editions have given this whole Verfe to Aaron. But

why should the Moor here ask for a Ladder, who earnestly wanted to have his Child fav'd?

THEOBALD.