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. 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 nust kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward, I'll be at hand 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:- Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go :- Publius, follow me. [Exeunt. • The Clown means to say plebeian tribune ; i.e. tribune of the people. SCENE IV. The same. Before the palace. Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Chiron, Demetrius, Lords, and others: Saturninus, 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 My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods, Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, Shall be no shelter to these outrages: But he and his shall know, that justice lives * Equal. 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, [Aside. For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become Enter Clown. How now, good fellow? would'st 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. [Exit, guarded. Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villainy? I know from whence this same device proceeds; * Flatter. For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughter-man ; Sly frantick wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. Enter Emilius. What news with thee, Emilius? Emil. Arm, arm, my lords; Rome never had more cause! The Goths have gather'd head; and, with a power Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms. Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: And they have wish'd that Lucius were their em. peror. 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? Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor, With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.- [To Æmilius. Say, that the emperor requests a parley Sut. Emilius, do this message honourably: [Exit Æmilius. Tam. Now will I to that old Audronicus; And temper him, with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices. Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him. [Exeunt. |