Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. Lavinia, come :-Marcus, look to my house; And with a gad of steel-] A gad, from the Saxon, gad, i. e. the point of a spear, is used here for some similar pointed instrų ment, Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Boy. Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, [Exit. The same. SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one Door; at another Door, young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a Bundle of Weapons, and Verses writ upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver to us. Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus ;And pray the Roman gods, confound you both. [Aside. Dem. Gramercy,' lovely Lucius: What's the news? Boy. That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it please you, My grandsire, well-advis'd, hath sent by me "Gramercy,] i. e, grand mercy; great thanks. The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; And so I leave you both, [Aside.] like bloody vil- Let's see; Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu. Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago. Aar. Ay, just-a verse in Horace ;-right, you have it. Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt; And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. But were our witty empress well a-foot, Aside, And now, young lords, was't not a happy star Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ? Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love. Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more.. Dem. Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. o'er. Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us Aside. Flourish. Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. Enter a Nurse, with a Black-a-moor Child in her Nur. Arms. Good morrow, lords: O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor. Aar. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace;She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver❜d. Aar. To whom? Nur. Aar. I mean, she's brought to bed. Well, God Give her good rest! What hath he sent her? Nur. A devil. Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam; a joyful issue. Nur. A-joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue: Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. Aar. Out, out, you whore? is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. Dem. Villain, what hast thou done? Aar. Canst not undo. Chi. Done! that which thou Thou hast undone our mother. Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother. Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend! Chi. It shall not live. Aar. It shall not die. Nur. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so. Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man, but I, Do execution on my flesh and blood. Dem. I'll broach the tadpole" on my rapier's point; Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch it. Aar. Sooner this sword shall plow thy bowels up. [Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws. With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood, 8 I'll broach the tadpole-] A broach is a spit. I'll spit the tadpole, |