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Of old Andronicus. And what an if

       His sorrows have so overwhelm’d his wits,

       Shall we be thus afflicted in his freaks,

       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 everywhere?

       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 he in fury shall

       Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives.

      TAMORA.

       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,

       Whose loss hath pierc’d 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 on’t; 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?

      CLOWN.

       Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial.

      TAMORA.

       Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.

      CLOWN.

       ‘Tis he.—God and Saint Stephen give you good-den; I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.

       [SATURNINUS reads the letter.]

      SATURNINUS.

       Go take him away, and hang him presently.

      CLOWN.

       How much money must I have?

      TAMORA.

       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 guarded.]

      SATURNINUS.

       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 butchered 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 frantic wretch, that holp’st to make me great,

       In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

       [Enter AEMILIUS.]

      What news with thee, Aemilius?

      AEMILIUS.

       Arm, my lord! 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.

      SATURNINUS.

       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 begins our sorrows to approach:

       ‘Tis he the common people love so much;

       Myself hath often overheard them say,—

       When I have walked like a private man,—

       That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully,

       And they have wish’d that Lucius were their emperor.

      TAMORA.

       Why should you fear? is not your city strong?

      SATURNINUS.

       Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,

       And will revolt from me to succour him.

      TAMORA.

       King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.

       Is the sun dimm’d, that gnats do fly in it?

       The eagle suffers little birds to sing,

       And is not careful what they mean thereby,

       Knowing that with the shadow of his wing

       He can at pleasure stint their melody;

       Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.

       Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor,

       I will enchant the old Andronicus

       With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,

       Than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep,

       Whenas the one is wounded with the bait,

       The other rotted with delicious feed.

      SATURNINUS.

       But he will not entreat his son for us.

      TAMORA.

       If Tamora entreat him, then he will:

       For I can smooth and fill his aged ear

       With golden promises that, were his heart

       Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,

       Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.—

       Go thou before [to AEMILIUS]; be our ambassador:

       Say that the emperor requests a parley

       Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting

       Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus.

      SATURNINUS.

       Aemilius, do this message honourably:

       And if he stand on hostage for his safety,

       Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

      AEMILIUS.

       Your bidding shall I do effectually.

       [Exit.]

      TAMORA.

       Now will I to that

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