You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy, Marcus-loofe thou when I bid :
O' my word I have written to effect,

There's not a God left unfollicited.

Mar. Kinfmen, fhoot all your fhafts into the Court, We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.

[They shoot Tit. Now, mafters, draw; oh well faid, Lucius: Good boy in Virgo's lap, give it to Pallas.

Mar. My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha, Publius, Publius, ha! what haft thou done? See, fee, thou'ft fhot off one of Taurus' horns.

Mar. This was the sport, 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 should not chufe But give them to his master for a present.

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 lays 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?
Cloro. 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, didit 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. • He incans to fay, tribunus plebis,

i

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

Clown.Nay truly,Sir, I could never fay 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 mony for thy charges.
Give me a pen and ink.

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a fupplication?
Clown. Ay, Sir.

Tit. Then here is a fupplication for you: and when you come to him, at the first 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,

Knock at my door, and tell me what he fays.

Clow. God be with you, Sir,

will.

Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. [Exe.
SCENE V. The Palace.

Enter Emperor and Emprefs, and ber two Sons; the Em-
peror brings the arrows in bis hand that Titus fhot.
Sat. Why, Lords, what wrongs are these? was ever seen
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 past,
But even with law against the wilful fons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His forrows have so over-whelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his freaks,
His fits, his frenfie, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redrefs.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury,
This to Apello, this to the God of war:

Sweet

Sweet fcrowls to fly abont the streets of Rome.
What's this but libelling against the fenate,
And blazoning our injuftice ev'ry where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my Lords?
As who would fay, in Rome no juftice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecftafies
Shall be no fhelter to these outrages:
But he and his fhall know, that Juftice lives
In Saturninus' health, whom, if the fleep,
He'll fo awake, as the in fury fhall
Cut off the proud'ft confpirator that lives.
Tam. My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thought,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th' effects of forrow for his valiant fons,
Whofe lofs hath pierc'd him deep, and scart'd his heart
And rather comfort his dift reffed plight,
Than profecute the meaneft or the beft,
For these contempts-Why thus it shall become
High-witted Tamora to glofe with all:
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wife,
Then is all fafe, the anchor's in the port.
Enter Clown.

[Afide.

How now, good fellow, would't thou fpeak with us? Clow. Yea forfooth, and your Mistership be Emperial. Tam. Emprefs I am, but yonder fits the Emperor. Clow. 'Tis he: God and St. Stephen give you good-e'en, I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [He reads the letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him prefently,

Clow. How much mony muft I have?

Tam. Come, firrah, thou must be hang'd.

Clow. Hang'd by 'r lady, then I have brought up a

neck to a fair end.

Sat. Defpightful and intolerable wrongs!

Shall I endure this monftrous villainy?

I know from whence this fame device proceeds:
May this be born? as if his traiterous fons,
That dy'd by law for murder of our brother,

[Exit.

Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair,
Nor age nor honour fhall Thare privilege.
For this proud mock I'll be thy flaughter-man;
Sly frantick wretch, that holp'ft to make me great,
In hope thy felf should govern Rome and me.
Enter Æmilius.

Sat. What news with thee, Æmilius?

Emil. Arm,my Lords, arm; Rome never had more cause ; The Goths have gather'd head, and with a power

Of high-refolved men, bent to the spoil,

They hither march amain, under the conduct
Of Lucius, fon to old Andronicus:

Who threats in courfe of his 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 froft, or grafs beat down with ftorms.
Ay, now begin our forrows to approach;
'Tis he the common people love fo much;
My felf have often over-heard them fay,
(When I have walked like a private man)
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,

And they have with'd that Lucius were their Emperor.
Tam. Why fhould ye fear? is not our city ftrong?
Sat. Ay, but the citizens do favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me, to fuccour him.

Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.
Is the fun dim'd, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle fuffers little birds to fing,

And is not cateful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the fhadow of his wings,
He can at pleasure ftint their melody;
Even fo may'st thou the giddy men of Rome,
Then cheer thy fpirit, for know, thou Emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus,

With words more fweet, and yet more dangerous
Than baits to fifh, or hony-ftalks to fheep,
When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious food.

Sat.

Sat. But he will not intreat his fon for us.
Tam. If Tamora intreat him, then he will:
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ear
With golden promifes, that were his heart
Almoft impregnable, his old ears deaf,

Yet fhould both ear and heart obey my tongue.
Go thou before as our embassador,

Say, that the Emperor requests a parley

[To Æmilius.

Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting.
Sat. Emilius, do this meffage honourably;
And if he stand on hostage for his fafety,

Bid him demand what pledge will please him beft.
Emil. Your bidding fhall I do effectually.
Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus,
And temper him with all the art I have,
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, fweet Emperor, be blith again,

And bury all thy fear in my devices.

[Exit.

Sat. Then go fuccefsfully and plead to him. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.

Luc.

A Camp at a Small Distance from Rome.

A

Enter Lucius with Goths, with Drum and Soldiers.
Pproved warriors, and my faithful friends,
I have received letters from great Rome,
Which fignifie what hate they bear their Emp'ror,
And how defirous of our fight they are.
Therefore, great Lords, be as your titles witness,
Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,
And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,
Let him make treble fatisfaction.

Goth. Brave flip, fprung from the great Andronicus,
(Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,)
Whofe high exploits and honourable deeds
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold in us, we'll follow where thou lead'ft;
Like ftinging bees in hotteft fummer's day,
Led by their mafter to the flower'd fields;
And be aveng'd on curfed Tamora.

Omn. And as he faith, fo fay we all with him,
VOL. VIII.

F

Luc.