Shakespeare's First Folio Part 488

Mar. Pardon me sir, It was a blacke illfauour'd Fly, Like to the Empresse Moore, therefore I kild him

An. O, o, o, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a Charitable deed: Giue me thy knife, I will insult on him, Flattering my selfe, as if it were the Moore, Come hither purposely to poyson me.

There's for thy selfe, and thats for Tamora: Ah sirra, Yet I thinke we are not brought so low, But that betweene vs, we can kill a Fly, That comes in likenesse of a Cole-blacke Moore

Mar. Alas poore man, griefe ha's so wrought on him, He takes false shadowes, for true substances

An. Come, take away: Lauinia, goe with me, Ile to thy closset, and goe read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.

Come boy, and goe with me, thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine begin to dazell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter young Lucius and Lauinia running after him, and the Boy flies from her with his bookes vnder his arme. Enter t.i.tus and Marcus.

Boy. Helpe Gransier helpe, my Aunt Lauinia, Followes me euery where I know not why.

Good Vncle Marcus see how swift she comes, Alas sweet Aunt, I know not what you meane

Mar. Stand by me Lucius, doe not feare thy Aunt

t.i.tus. She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme Boy. I when my father was in Rome she did

Mar. What meanes my Neece Lauinia by these signes?

Ti. Feare not Lucius, somewhat doth she meane: See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee: Some whether would she haue thee goe with her.

Ah boy, Cornelia neuer with more care Read to her sonnes, then she hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry, and Tullies Oratour: Canst thou not gesse wherefore she plies thee thus?

Boy. My Lord I know not I, nor can I gesse, Vnlesse some fit or frenzie do possesse her: For I haue heard my Gransier say full oft, Extremitie of griefes would make men mad.

And I haue read that Hecuba of Troy, Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to feare, Although my Lord, I know my n.o.ble Aunt, Loues me as deare as ere my mother did, And would not but in fury fright my youth, Which made me downe to throw my bookes, and flie Causles perhaps, but pardon me sweet Aunt, And Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe, I will most willingly attend your Ladys.h.i.+p

Mar. Lucius I will

Ti. How now Lauinia, Marcus what meanes this?

Some booke there is that she desires to see, Which is it girle of these? Open them boy, But thou art deeper read and better skild, Come and take choyse of all my Library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heauens Reueale the d.a.m.n'd contriuer of this deed.

What booke?

Why lifts she vp her armes in sequence thus?

Mar. I thinke she meanes that ther was more then one Confederate in the fact, I more there was: Or else to heauen she heaues them to reuenge

Ti. Lucius what booke is that she tosseth so?

Boy. Grandsier 'tis Ouids Metamorphosis, My mother gaue it me

Mar. For loue of her that's gone, Perhaps she culd it from among the rest

Ti. Soft, so busily she turnes the leaues, Helpe her, what would she finde? Lauinia shall I read?

This is the tragicke tale of Philomel?

And treates of Tereus treason and his rape, And rape I feare was roote of thine annoy

Mar. See brother see, note how she quotes the leaues Ti. Lauinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd sweet girle, Rauisht and wrong'd as Philomela was?

Forc'd in the ruthlesse, vast, and gloomy woods?

See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt, (O had we neuer, neuer hunted there) Patern'd by that the Poet heere describes, By nature made for murthers and for rapes

Mar. O why should nature build so foule a den, Vnlesse the G.o.ds delight in tragedies?

Ti. Giue signes sweet girle, for heere are none but friends What Romaine Lord it was durst do the deed?

Or slunke not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the Campe to sinne in Lucrece bed

Mar. Sit downe sweet Neece, brother sit downe by me, Appollo, Pallas, Ioue, or Mercury, Inspire me that I may this treason finde.

My Lord looke heere, looke heere Lauinia.

He writes his Name with his staffe, and guides it with feete and mouth.

This sandie plot is plaine, guide if thou canst This after me, I haue writ my name, Without the helpe of any hand at all.

Curst be that hart that forc'st vs to that s.h.i.+ft: Write thou good Neece, and heere display at last, What G.o.d will haue discouered for reuenge, Heauen guide thy pen to print thy sorrowes plaine, That we may know the Traytors and the truth.

She takes the staffe in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps and writes.

Ti. Oh doe ye read my Lord what she hath writ?

Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius

Mar. What, what, the l.u.s.tfull sonnes of Tamora, Performers of this hainous b.l.o.o.d.y deed?

Ti. Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?

Mar. Oh calme thee gentle Lord: Although I know There is enough written vpon this earth, To stirre a mutinie in the mildest thoughts, And arme the mindes of infants to exclaimes.

My Lord kneele downe with me: Lauinia kneele, And kneele sweet boy, the Romaine Hectors hope, And sweare with me, as with the wofull Feere And father of that chast dishonoured Dame, Lord Iunius Brutus sweare for Lucrece rape, That we will prosecute (by good aduise) Mortall reuenge vpon these traytorous Gothes, And see their blood, or die with this reproach

Ti. Tis sure enough, and you knew how.

But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if she winde you once, Shee's with the Lyon deepely still in league.

And lulls him whilst she playeth on her backe, And when he sleepes will she do what she list.

You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I will goe get a leafe of bra.s.se, And with a Gad of steele will write these words, And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde Will blow these sands like Sibels leaues abroad, And wheres your lesson then. Boy what say you?

Boy. I say my Lord, that if I were a man, Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe, For these bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome

Mar. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his vngratefull country done the like

Boy. And Vncle so will I, and if I liue

Ti. Come goe with me into mine Armorie, Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy Shall carry from me to the Empresse sonnes, Presents that I intend to send them both, Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

Boy. I with my dagger in their bosomes Grandsire: Ti. No boy not so, Ile teach thee another course, Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my house, Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court, I marry will we sir, and weele be waited on.

Exeunt.

Mar. O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone And not relent, or not compa.s.sion him?

Marcus attend him in his extasie, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Then foe-mens markes vpon his batter'd s.h.i.+eld, But yet so iust, that he will not reuenge, Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus.

Exit

Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one dore: and at another dore young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ vpon them.

Chi. Demetrius heeres the sonne of Lucius, He hath some message to deliuer vs

Aron. I some mad message from his mad Grandfather

Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenesse I may, I greete your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Romane G.o.ds confound you both