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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 must 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.
Clo. God be with you, sir; I will.
• The Clown means to say plebeian tribune ; 2.8. tribune of the people.
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
An emperor of Rome thus overborne,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
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 : [Aside. 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. How now, good fellow? would'st thou speak with us?
Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be impe. tial.
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. 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; 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 bither by the hair ; Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege:
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 Æmilius. What news with thee, Æmilius? Æmil. 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
storins. Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 'Tis be the common people love so much; Myself hath 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 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
Is the sun dimm’d, that gpats do fly in it?
Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor,
Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us.
Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will:
Sut. Æmilius, do this message honourably: And if he stand on hostage for liis safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. Æmil. Your bidding shall I do effectually.
[Erit 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.