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Ad Jorem, that's for you :-Here, ad Apollinem :-
Ad Martem, that's for myself;-
Here, boy, to Pallas :-Here, to Mercury:
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine,-
You were as good to shoot against the wind.-
To it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid:
O’my word, I have written to effect;
There's not a god left unsolicited.

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court :
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well

said, Lucius ! Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

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

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done! See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius

shot, 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 your lordship

joy.

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 ?

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker ? he says, that he

hath 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. Ay, 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 heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs,s 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

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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

5 The Clown means to say plebeian tribune, i. e. tribune of

the people.

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.

Clo. God be with you, sir ; I will.
Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go :-Publius, follow me.

[Ereunt.

SCENE IV.

The same. Before the Palace.

Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEME

TRIUS, 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 of Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus : and, for the extent
Of egal“ justice, us’d in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace
Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,
But even with law, against the wilful sons:
Of old Andronicus. And what an if

Equal.

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!
What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
As who would 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.

Tam. My gracious lord, my 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, i
Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his

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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 glozei 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.---

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Enter Clown. How now, good fellow? would'st thou speak with us?

Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial, 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. (SATURNISUS 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 hang'd.

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

[Erit, 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 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,

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