Not far, one Muliteus lives, my country-man, To calm this tempeft whirling in the court; The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: The midwife and the nurfe well made away, Dem. For this care of Tamora, Herfelf and hers are highly bound to thee. [Exeunt. Aar. Now to the Goths, as fwift as swallow flies, There to difpofe this treasure in my arms, To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit. SCENE, a Street near the Palace. Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other Gentlemen with bows; and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the end of them. •CO Tit. Ome, Marcus, come; kinfmen, this is the way. She's She's gone, fhe's fled-Sirs, take you to your tools; You, coufins, fhall go found the ocean, And caft your nets; haply, you may find her in the fea, No, Publius and Sempronius; you must do it, Tell him, it is for juftice, and for aid; Pub. Therefore, my Lord, it highly us concerns, Mar. Kinfmen, his forrows are paft remedy. Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my mafters, If Pub. No, my good Lord, but Pluto fends you word, you will have revenge from hell, you shall: Marry, for juftice, fhe is fo employ'd, He thinks, with Jove in heav'n, or fomewhere elfe; So that perforce you must needs ftay a time. Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. No No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops fize; Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear. Here, boy, to Pallas-here, to Mercury Mar. Kinfmen, fhoot all your fhafts into the court, We will afflict the Emperor in his pride. [They foot. Tit. Now, mafters, draw; oh, well faid, Lucius: Good boy, in Virgo's lap, give it Pallas. Mar. My Lord, I am a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this. Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what haft thou done? See, fee, thou'ft shot off one of Taurus' horns. Mar. This was the fport, my Lord; when Publius fhot, The bull being gall'd, gave Aries fuch a knock, That down fell both the ram's horns in the court, And who should find them, but the Emprefs' villain: She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he fhould not chufe But give them to his master for a prefent. Tit. Why, there it goes. God give your Lordship joy! Enter a Clown with a basket and two pigeons. News, news from heav'n; Marcus, the poft is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have juftice, what fays Jupiter? Clow. Who? the gibbet-maker? he fays, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week. Tit. Tut, what fays Jupiter, I ask thee? Clory. Clow. Alas, Sir, I know not Jupiter, I never drank with him in all my life. Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clow. Ay, of my pigeons, Sir, nothing else. Tit. Why, didft thou not come from heav'n? Clow. From heav'n? alas, Sir, I never came there. God forbid, I fhould be fo bold to prefs into heav'n 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 ferve 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? Clow. Nay, truly, Sir, I could never fay grace in allTM my life. Tit. Sirrah, come hither, make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the Emperor. By me thou shalt have juftice at his hands. Hold, hold--mean while here's money for thy charges. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication ? Tit. Then here is a fupplication for you: and when you come to him, at the firft approach you must kneel, then kifs his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, Sir; fee, you do it bravely. Clow. I warrant you, Sir, let me alone. Tit. Sirrah, haft thou a knife? come, let me fee it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration, For thou haft made it like an humble fuppliant; And when thou haft given it the Emperor, Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. [Exeunt. SCENE, SCENE, the Palace. Enter Emperor and Empress, and her two fons; the Emperor brings the arrows in his hand, that Titus fhot. Sat. W 7HY, Lords,whatwrongs are thefe?was everseen An Emperor of Rome thus over-born, Troubled, confronted thus, and, for th' extent Of equal juftice, us'd in fuch contempt ? My Lords, you know, as do the mightful gods, (However the disturbers of our peace Buz in the people's ears) there nought hath paft, Tam. My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine, Whofe lofs hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his heart; For thefe contempts-Why, thus it fhall become But, |