She's with the Lion deeply ftill in League,
And lulls him whilft the playeth on her Back,
And when he fleeps will the do what the lift.
You are a young Huntsman, Marcus, let it alone;
And come, I will go get a leaf of Brass,

And with a Gad of Steel will write thefe Words,
And lay it by; the angry Northern Wind
Will blow thefe Sands like Sybils leaves abroad,
And where's your Leffon then? Boy, what say you!
Boy. I fay, my Lord, that if I were a Man,
Their Mother's Bed-chamber should not be fafe,
For these bad Bond-men to the Yoak of Rome.

Mar. Ay, that's my Boy, thy Father hath full oft For his ungrateful Country done the like.

Boy. And, Uncle, fo will I, and if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into mine Armory,
Lucius I'll fit thee, and withal, my Boy
Shall carry from me to the Empress Sons,
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 Houle,
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the Court,

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

[Exeunt.

Mar. O Heav'ns, can you hear a good Man groan,

And not relent, or not compaffion him?

Marcus attend him in his Extafie,my

That hath more Scars of Sorrow in his Heart,

Than Foe-mens Marks upon his batter'd Shield,

But yet fo juft, that he will not revenge,

Revenge the Heav'ns for old Andronicus,

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 apon them...

Chi. Demetrius, here's the Son of Lucius,

He hath fome Mellage to deliver us.

Aar. Ay, fome mad Meffage from his mad. Grandfather, Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenefs I may,

I greet your Honours from Andronicus, di suny l suấ And pray the Roman Gods confound you both.

T

Dem.

Dem. Gramercy lovely Lucius, what's the News?

Boy. For Villains mark'd with Rape. May it please you, My Grandfire well advis'd hath fent by me, The goodlieft Weapons of his Armory, To gratifie your honourable Youth, The hope of Rome, for fo he bad me fay: And fo I do, and with his Gifts prefent Your Lordships, when ever 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 Scrole, and written round about?

Let's fee.

Integer vita fcelerifque purus, non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu. Chi. O'tis a Verfe in Horace, I know it well;

I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay juft, a Verfe in Horace

Now what a thing it is to be an Afs?

-right, you have it

Here's no found Jeft, th' old Man hath found their Guilt,
And fends the Weapons wrap'd about with Lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Empress well a-foot,

She would applaud Andronicus conceit:
But let her reft, in her unreft a while.
And now, young Lords, was't not a happy Star
Led us to Rome, Strangers, and more than fo,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good, before the Palace Gate.
To brave the Tribune in his Brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to fee fo great a Lord
Bafely infinuate, and fend us Gifts.

Aar. Had he not reafon, Lord Demetrius ?
Did you not use his Daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman Dames
At fuch a Bay, by turn to ferve our Luft.
Chi. A charitable wish, and full of Love.

Aar. Here lacks but your Mother for to say, Amen.
Chi. And that would the for twenty thousand more.
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.

Dem. Why do the Emperor's Trumpets flourish thus? - Chi. Belike for joy the Emperor hath a Son. Dem. Soft, who comes here?

Enter Nurfe with a Black-a-moor Child.

Nur. Good morrow, 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 wo betide thee evermore

Aar. Why, what a Caterwalling doft thou keep?

What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine Arms?

.

Nur. O that which I would hide from Heav'ns Eye,

Our Empress shame, and ftately Rome's difgrace,

She is delivered, Lords, the is delivered.

Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean, he is brought to Bed.

Aar. Well, God give her good rest.

What hath he fent her?

Nur. A Devil,

Aar. Why then she is the Devil's Damé: a joyful Issue. Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black and forrowful Iffue, Here is the Babe, as loathfome as a Toad, Amongst the faireft Breeders of our Clime, The Empress fends it thee, thy Stamp, thy Seal, And bids thee Chriften it with thy Dagger's point. Aar. Out, you Whore, is Black fo base a hue? Sweet Blowfe, you are a beauteous Boffom fure. Dem. Villain, what haft thou done?

Aar. That which thou canst not undo.

Chi. Thou haft undone our Mother.

Dem. And therein, hellifh Dog, thou haft undoneWo 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 muft, the Mother wills it fo.
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: Nurfe, give it me, my Sword fhall foon dispatch it.

Aar.

Aar. Sooner this Sword fhall plough thy Bowels up.
Stay, murtherous 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 Cymitar's fharp point,
That touches this my firft-born Son and Heir.
I tell you, Younglings, not Enceladus
With all his threatning Band of Typhon's Brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the God of War,
Shall feize this Prey out of his Father's Hands:
What, what, ye fanguine fhallow-hearted Boys,
Ye white-limb'd Walls, ye A'ehoufe painted Signs,
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 Swan's black Legs to white,
Although the lave them hourly in the Flood.
Tell the Emprefs from me, I am of Age
To keep mine own, excufe it how he 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 fafe,
Or fome of you fhall fmoke for it in Rome.
Dem. By this our Mother is for ever fham'd.
Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul Escape.
Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her Death.
Chi. I bluth to think upon this Ignominy.

Aar. Why there's the privilege your Beauty bears':
Fie treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
The clofe Enacts and Counfels of the Heart:
Here's a young Lad fram'd of another leer,
Look how the black Slave fimiles upon the Father;
As who hold 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 imprisoned were
He is infranchifed and come to light:
Nay, he is your Brother by the furer fide,
Although my Scal be ftamped on his Face.

Nur.

Nur. Aaron, what fhall I fay unto the Empress?
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all fubfcribe to thy advice:
Save thou the Child, fo we may all be fafe.

Aar. Then fit we down, and let us all confult.
My Son 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 felf. And none elfe but the delivered 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 Week, week, fo cries a Pig prepar'd to th' Spit. Dem. What mean'ft thou, Aaron? Wherefore didft thou this?

[He kills her.

Aar. O Lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of Policy:
Shall the live to betray this Guilt of ours?
A long-tongu'd babling Goffip? No, Lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent:
Not far, one Mulitens lives, my Country-man,
His Wife but yefternight 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, 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