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SCENE V.-The same.
Enter DEMETRIUs and CHIRON, with LAVINIA,
ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue
cut out. Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning
SO; And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can..
scowl. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy
hands. Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to
wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron.
Enter MARCUS. Mar. Who's this,-my niece, that flies away so.
fast? Cousin, a word; where is your husband? If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may
slumber in eternal sleep! Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches? those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in ; And might not gain so great a happiness, As-half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
[Exeunt. ACT III.
SCENE I.-Rome. A street.
Enter Senators, Tribunes, and officers of Justice,
with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; Titus going before, pleading
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd ; And for these bitter tears, which now-you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour's lofty bed. For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
[Throwing himself on the ground. My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with the
Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn.
Luc. 0, noble father, you lament in vain ;
Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead : Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you
speak. Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, They would not mark me; or, if they did mark, All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet, in some sort, they're better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than:
stones : A stone is silent and offendeth not; And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon
Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee.
From these devourers to be banished ?
Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA.
Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then.
Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her:-
Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this
deed ? Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park,