Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Tit. Ha, ha!

Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?

See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. Marc. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius

shot,

70

The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court;

And who should find them but the empress' villain?

She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose

But give them to his master for a present. Tit. Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy! Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it.

News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is

come.

Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

Clo. O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath 80
taken them down again, for the man must
not be hanged till the next week.

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never
drank with him in all my life.

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?
Clo. Aye, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.
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 90

heaven in my young days. Why, I am go-
ing with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to
take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle
and one of the emperial's men.

Marc. 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 100 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; meanwhile here's money for thy
charges.

Give me pen and ink.

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?

Clo. Aye, sir.

Tit. Then here is a supplication for

you. And when you come to him, at the first approach 110 you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; 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:
And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 120

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

[Exit.

Publius, follow me. [Exeunt.

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 in Rome thus overborne,

Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent
Of egal justice used in such contempt?

My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace

Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath
pass'd

But even with law against the willful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if

His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, 10
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!
What's this but libeling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humor, is it not, my lords?

As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 20
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies

Shall be no shelter to these outrages:

But he and his shall know that justice livest
In Saturninus' health; whom, if he sleep,
He'll so awake, as he in fury shall

Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.
Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,

30

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 pierced him deep and scarr'd
his heart;

And rather comfort his distressed plight
Than prosecute the meanest or the best

For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it shall
become

High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:
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 in the port.

Enter Clown.

How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us?

Clo. Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clo. 'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you

godden: I have brought you a letter and

37. "Thy life-blood out"; F. 2, "ont"; F. 3, "on't"; Walker suggested that a previous line had been lost, but the text seems correct, "and drawn thy life-blood out."-I. G.

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 hanged.
Clo. Hanged! by 'r lady, then I have brought
up a neck to a fair end.

50

[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 hither by the hair;
Nor age nor honor shall shape privilege:
For this proud mock I 'll be thy slaughter-man;
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me
great,

In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 60
Enter Emilius.

What news with thee, Æmilius?

Emil. 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 70