Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. [Aside. [Exit AARON. Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call:-What, wilt thou kneel with me? [TO LAVINIA. And do not break into these deep extremes. Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face? Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand. More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit. And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne! To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at is double death. Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! [LAVINIA kisses him, Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Mar. Now farewell flattery: Die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: See, thy two sons' heads; Thy warlike hand; thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of your most wretched eyes! Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha! Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watry eyes, That I may turn me to each one of you, Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA. O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been! If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; [Exit. SCENE II.—A Room in TITUS's House. A Banquet set out. Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young LUCIUS, a Boy. Tit. So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; And when my heart, all mad with misery, Then thus I thump it down. Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! [TO LAVINIA. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some little knife between thy teeth, And just against thy heart make thou a hole; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, May run into that sink, and, soaking in, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. Mar. Fye, brother, fye! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life. Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee doat already?. Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life! Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks : |