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Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your lordship

joy!

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391

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 ?

Clown. Hol the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week.

Tit. Tut, what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

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

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier ?
Clown. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. 400
Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

Clown. 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 pi. geons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's

men.

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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.

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

Clown. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. Tit. Sirrah, come hither; make no more a lo,

But

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?
Clown. Ay, sir.

421 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, şir; see you do it bravely.

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

Tit. Sirrah, hąst 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 the emperor, 431
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

Clown. God be with you, sir; I will.
Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go :--

:--Publius, follow

[ Exeunt.

me.

SCENE IV.

The Palace. Enter Emperor, and Emperess, and her two

Sons; the Emperor brings the Arrows in his Hand, that
TITUS fot.
Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was

ever seen

An emperor of Rome thus over-borne,

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Troubled,

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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 the disturbers of our peace

440
Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath past,
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! 450
What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords ?
As who should 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.

460
Tam. My gracious lord, most 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 scar'd his

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heart ;

And

And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become

[ Aside.
High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, 470
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! wouldst thou speak with

us? Clown. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be em

perial, Tit. Emperess I am, but yonder sits the emperor.

1 Clown, 'Tis he.-God and saint Stephen, give you

good den: / I have brought you a letter, and a couple of pigeons here.

[The Emperor reads the Letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clown. How much money must I have ? Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd.

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

[ Exit. Sat. Despightful and intolerable wrongs Shall I endure this monstrous villainy? I know from whence this same device proceeds: May this be borne - as if his traiterous sons, That dy'd by law for murder of our brother, Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully :

480

Go,

Go, drag the villain hither by the hair ;
Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege :- 490
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.

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Sat. 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 his revenge, to do 500
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 over-heard 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.

510 Tam. Why should you fear? is not our city strong?

Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius;
And will revolt from me, to succour him.

Tam.

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