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, grand fire.
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 ecftasy,

That hath more fears of forrow in his heart,
Than foe-mens marks upon his batter'd shield;
But yet so juft, that he will not revenge;
Revenge the heav'ns for old Andronicus!

SCENE changes to the Palace.

[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.

Emetrius, here's the son of Lucius;

DE

He hath fome meffage to deliver us. Aar. Ay, fome mad meffage 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 goodlicft weapons of his armoury,

To gratify your honourable youth,

The hope of Rome; for fo he bade 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 stroll, and written round about?

Let's

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-right, you have itNow, what a thing it is to be an ass ?

Here's no fond jeft; th' old man hath found their guilt, (22)
And fends the weapons wrap'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Emprefs well a-foot,

She would applaud Andronicus' conceit :
But let her reft in her unreft awhile.

And now, young Lords, was't not a happy ftar
Led us to Rome ftrangers, 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 reason, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

Dem. I would, we had a thoufand Roman dames.

At fuch a bay, by turn to ferve our luft.

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.

Aar. Here lacketh but your mother to fay Amen.
Chi. And that would fhe 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. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourish thus?
Chi. Belike, for joy the Emp'ror hath a fon.
Dem. Soft, who comes here?

(22) Here's no found jeft;] But, I think, I may venture to say, here's no found fenfe. Doubtlefs, the poet wrote, here's no fond jest, i. e. no idle, forf one; but a farcaím deliberately thrown, and grounded on reafon.

Enter

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 woe betide thee evermore!

Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our Emprefs' fhame, and ftately Rome's difgrace. She is deliver'd, Lords, the is deliver'd.

Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean, she is brought to bed.

Aar. Well, god give her good reft!

What hath he fent her?

Nur. A devil.

Aar. Why, then fhe is the devil's dam: a joyful iffue. Nur. A joyless, difmal, black, and forrowful iffue. Here is the babe, as loathfome as a toad,

Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.

The Emprefs fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal,
And bids thee chriften it with thy dagger's point.
Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black fo base a hue?
Sweet blowfe, you are a beauteous bloffom, fure.
Dem. Villain, what haft thou done?
Aar. That which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother. (23)

(23) Chi. Thou bhaft undone our mother.

Aar.

Dem. And therein, bellifh dog, thou haft undone. There is no neceffity for this break, had our editors collated the old quarto, and reftor'd the fupplemental half line which I have added from thence. They did not, I dare fay, fupprefs it out of modefty. It contains a mode of expreffion, which, tho' fomewhat coarse, is wfed by our author in other places.

Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison.
Bawd. Well, what has he done?

Clorun.

A woman.
-who, if I

Had fervants true about me, that bear eyes

Meaf. for Meaf.

To

Aar. Villain, I've done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou haft undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice, Accurs'd the off-spring of so 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: Nurse, give it me, my fword fhall foon difpatch it. Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up. Stay, murderous 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 fcymitar's fharp point,
That touches this my firft-born fon 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-lim'd walls, ye alehoufe painted figns,
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 the can.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble miftrefs thus ?
Aar. My mistress is my miftrefs; this, myself;
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 sham'd,

To fee alike mine honour, as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
Which should undo more doing.

Winter's Tale.

Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul efcape.
Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignominy.

Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears:
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counfels of the heart!
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer,

Look, how the black flave smiles upon the father;
As who fhould 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 imprifon'd were,
He is infranchised and come to light:

Nay, he's your brother by the furer fide;
Although my feal be ftamped in his face.

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

Aar. Then fit we down, and let us all confult.
My fon 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 storms:
But fay again, how many faw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myfelf-
And no one else but the deliver'd Emprefs.

Aar. The Emprefs, the midwife, and yourselfTwo may keep counfel, when the third's away: Go to the Emprefs, tell her, this I faid- [He kills her. Week,-week!-fo cries a pig, prepar'd to th' fpit. Dem. What mean'ft thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou 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:

[this?

Not