What time I threw the people's suffrages
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 unsearch'd ;
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence,
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
By day and night to attend him carefully;
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some careful remedy.

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows 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 masters? What, Have you met with her?

If

Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends

you word
you will have revenge from hell, you shall:
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,

He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere 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 the heels.
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;
No big-bon❜d men, fram'd of the Cyclops' size :
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;

Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear.
And, sith there is no justice in earth nor hell,
We will solicit heaven; and move the gods,
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs:
Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus.
[He gives them the arrows.
Ad Jovem, that's for you :-Here, ad Apollinem :-
Ad Martem, that's for myself ;-

Here, boy, to Pallas :-Here, to Mercury
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine,—

You were as good to shoot against the wind.-
To it, boy.-Marcus, loose when I bid:
O' my word, I have written to effect;

There's not a god left unsolicited.

--

[8] To wring a horse is to press or strain his back. JOHNSON.

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court: We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well said, Lucius!

Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon ; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done! See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.

Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot. The bull being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the ram's horns in the court; And who should find them but the empress' villain? She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose But give them to his master for a present.

Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your lordship joy. Enter a Clown, with a basket and two pigeons. News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. -Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters ? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why villain, art not thou the carrier?

Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

Clo. From heaven? alas, sir, I never came there: God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all

my life.

[9] I suppose the clown means to say, plebeian tribune, tribune of the people; for none could fill this office but such as were descended form plebeian ancestors. STEEVENS.

Tit. Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor :

By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.

Hold, hold; mean while, here's money for thy charges.
-Give me a pen and ink.-

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?
Clo. Ay, sir.

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach, you must kneel: then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward, I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.

Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone.

Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;

For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant :-
And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
Clo. God be with you, sir; I will.

Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go :-Publius, follow me.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

The same. Before the Palace.

Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, Lords, and others; SATURNI NUS with the arrows in his hand, that TITUS shot.

Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was ever seen An emperor of Rome thus overborne,

Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent

Of legal justice, us'd in such contempt ?

My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,
But even with law, against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress :
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
This to Apollo; this to the god of war :
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this, but libelling against the senate,

ind blazoning our injustice every where ? goodly humour, is it not, my lords? is who would say, in Rome no justice were. But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages: But he and his shall know, that justice lives In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep, He'll so awake, as she in fury shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,

Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his heart ; And rather comfort his distressed plight,

Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,

For these contempts.-Why, thus it shall become
High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port.-

Enter Clown.

[Aside.

How now, good fellow? wouldst thou speak with us? Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial. Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clo. 'Tis he.-God, and saint Stephen, give you good den: I have brought you a letter, and a couple of pigeons here. [SATURNINUS reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clo. How much money must I have?

Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd.

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

Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!

Shall I endure this monstrous villany?

[Exit, guarded.

I know from whence this same device proceeds ?
May this be borne ?—as if his traitorous sons,
That died 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, shall shape privilege
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughter-man ;
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,

In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter EMILIUS.

-What news with thee, Emilius ?

Em. Arm, arm, my lords; Rome never had more cause!
The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,

They hither march amain, under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus ;

Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.

Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?
These tidings nip me; and I hang the head
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms;
Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach:
'Tis he the common people love so much;
Myself have often overheard them say,
(When I have walked like a private man,)
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,

And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor.
Tam. Why should you fear? is not your city strong?
Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius;
And will revolt from me, to succour him.

Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,

And is not careful what they mean thereby ;
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings,
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou
I will enchant the old Andronicus,

emperor,

With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep ;'
When as the one is wounded with the bait,

The other rotted with delicious feed.

Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us.
Tam. If Tamora entreat 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 should both ear and heart obey my tongue.-
Go thou before, be our embassador:

[To ÆMIL.

[1] Honey-stalks are clover flowers, which contain a sweet juice. It is common for cattle to overcharge themselves with clover, and die. JOHNSON.