Will blow these fands, like Sybil's leaves,, abroad,
And where's your leffon then? boy, what say you?
Boy, I fay, my Lord that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe,
For these bad bond-men to the yoke of Rome.
Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
For this ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, Uncle, fo will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into my armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy
Shall carry from me to the Emprefs' fons
Prefents, that I intend to fend them both.
Come, come, thou'll do my meffage, wilt thou not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bofom, grandfire.
Tit. No, boy, not fo; I'll teach thee another course.
Lavinia, come; Marcus, look to my house:
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court,

Ay, marry, will we, Sir; and we'll be waited on.
[Exeunt,
Mar. O Heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
And not relent, or not compaffion him
Marcus, attend him in his ecftafy,

That hath more fears of forrow in his heart,
Than foe-mens' marks upon his batter'd hield;
But yet fo juft, that he will not revenge;
Revenge the Heaven's for old Andronišus!·

SCENE, changes to the Palace.

小

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[Exits

Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door and at another door, young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons and verfes writ upon them.

Chi.

Emetrius, here's the fon of Lucius;

D He hath fome meflage to deliver us.

Aar. Ay, fome mad meffage from his mad grandfather. Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenefs I may,

I greet your honours from Andronicus;

And pray the Roman Gods, confound you both.

Dem.

Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news?
Boy.That you are both decypher'd (that's the news)
For villains mark'd with rape. May it please you,
My grandfire, well advis'd, hath fent by me
The goodlieft weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable youth,

The hope of Rome; for fo he bade me say:
And fo I do, and with his gifts prefent
Your Lordships, that whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well.
And so I leave you both, like bloody villains.

[Exit.

Dem. What's here, a fcrowl, and written round about? Let's fee.

Integer vitæ, fcelerifque purus,

Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi. O, 'tis a verfe in Horace, I know it well:

I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar. Ay, juft;

a verfe in Horace right, you

have it

Now, what a thing it is to be an afs?

Here's no fond jeft; th' old man hath found their guilt, (14)

And fends the weapons wrap'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Emprefs well a-foot,

She would applaud Andronicus conceit:
But let her reft in her unreft a-while.

And now, young Lords, was't not a happy ftar
Led us to Rome ftrangers, and more than fo,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good before the palace-gate
To brave the Tribune in his brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to fee fo great a Lord
Bafely infinuate, and fend us gifts.

Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius ?·

(14) Here's no found jeaft;] But, I think, I may venture to fay, here's no found Senfe. Doubtless, the Poet wrote, here's no fond jeaft, i. e. no idle, forlife one; but a Sarcalm deliberately thrown, and grounded on Reaton.

Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames
At fuch a bay, by turn to serve our luft.

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.

Aar. Here lacketh but your mother to fay Amen. Chi. And that would fhe for twenty thousand more. Dem. Come, let us go, and pray to all the Gods For our beloved mother in her pains.

Aar. Pray to the devils; the Gods have given us over.
[Flourish.
Dem. Why do the Emp'ror's trumpets flourish thus ?
Chi. Belike, for joy the Emp'ror hath a fon.
Dem. Soft, who comes here?

Enter Nurfe, with a Black-a-moor Child.

Nur. Good-morrow, Lords:

O, tell me, did you fee Aaron the Moor?

Aar. Well, more or lefs, 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 doft thou keep?
What doft thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
Nur. O that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our Emprefs' fhame, and ftately Rome's difgrace.
She is deliver'd, Lords, fhe is deliver'd.

Aar. To whom?

Nur. I mean, he is brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God give her good reft!

What hath he fent her?

Nur. A devil.

Aar. Why, then fhe is the devil's dam: a joyful iffue. Nur. A joylefs, difmal, black, and forrowful ifue. Here is the babe, as loathfome as a toad, Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The Emprefs fends it thee, thy ftamp, thy feal: And bids thee chriften it with thy dagger's point. Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black fo bafe a hue ? Sweet blowfe, you are a beauteous bloffom, fure.

Dem.

Dem. Villain, what haft thou done?
Aar. That which thou canst not undo.
Chi. Thou haft undone our mother.

Aar. Villain, I've done thy mother.

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou haft undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice, Accurs'd the offspring of fo foul a fiend!

Chi. It fhall not live.

Aar. It fhall not die.

3.

Nur. Aaron, it must, the mother wills it fo.

Aar. What, nuft it, nurfe? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood,

Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point Nurfe, give it me, my fword fhall foon dispatch it. Aar. Sooner this fword fhall plough thy bowels up. Stay, murderous villains, will. you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the fky,

That fhone fo brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my feymitar's fharp point,
That touches this my firft-born fon and heir.
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus

With all his threatning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the God of war,

Shall feize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what, ye fanguine fhallow-hearted boys,
Ye white-lim'd walls, ye ale-houfe painted figns,
Coal-black is better than another hue,

In that it fcorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean

Can never turn the fwan's black legs to white,
Although the lave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the Emprefs from me, I am of age

To keep mine own; excufe it, how the can.

Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ?
Aar. My miftrefs is my miftrefs; this, myself;
The vigour and the picture of my youth.
This, before all the world do I prefer;
This, maugre all the world, will I keep fafe;
Or fome of you fhall fmoke for it in Rome.

Dem. By this our mother is for ever 'fham'd.

Chi. Rome will defpife her for this foul efcape.
Nur. The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.
Chi. I blufh to think upon this ignominy.

Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears :
Fy, treacherous hue, that will betray with blufhing
The clofe enacts and counfels of the heart!
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer,
Look, how the black flave fmiles upon the father;
As who should say, "Old lad, I am thine own."
He is your brother, Lords; fenfibly fed

Of that felf-blood, that first gave life to you;
And from that womb, where you imprison'd were,
He is infranchised and come to light:

Nay, he's your brother by the furer fide;
Although my feal is ftamped in his face.

Nur. Aaron, what fhall I fay unto the Emprefs?
Dem. Advife thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all fubfcribe to thy advice:
Save you the child, fo we may be all fafe.

Aar. Then fit we down, and let us all confult. My fon and I will have the wind of you: Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your fafety. [They fit on the ground. Dem. How many women faw this child of his? Aar. Why, fo, brave Lords; when we all join in league, I am a lamb; but if you brave the. Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean fwells not fo as Aaron ftorms: But fay again, how many faw the child? Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myselfAnd no one else but the deliver'd Emprefs.

Aar. The Empress, the midwife, and yourselfTwo may keep counfel, when the third's away: Go to the Emprefs, tell her, this I faid[He kills her. Week,-week!-fo cries a pig, prepar'd to th' fpit. Dem. What mean'fthou, Aaron? wherefore didft thou this?

Aar. O Lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of policy:

Shall fhe live to betray this guilt of ours?
A long-tongu'd babling goffip? no, Lords, no.

And