&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Come, Marcus, come;—kinsmen, this is the way.
&blquo;Sir boy, now let me see your archery;
&blquo;Look, ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.
&blquo;—Terras Astræa reliquit:—
&blquo;Be you remember'd, Marcus; she's gone, she's fled.—
&blquo;Sirs, take you to your tools.—You, cousins, shall
&blquo;Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
&blquo;Haply, you may find her in the sea.
&blquo;Yet there's as little justice as at land:—
&blquo;No; Publius, and Sempronius, you must do it;
&blquo;'Tis you must dig with mattock, and with spade,
&blquo;And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:
&blquo;Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
&blquo;I pray you to deliver him this petition:
&blquo;Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid;
&blquo;And that it comes from old Andronicus,
&blquo;Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.—
&blquo;Ah, Rome!—Well, well; I made thee miserable,
&blquo;What time I threw the people's suffrages
&blquo;On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.—
&blquo;Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,
&blquo;And leave you not a man of war unsearcht;
&blquo;This wicked emperor may have ship'd her hence,
&blquo;And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

&blquo;Mar.
&blquo;O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
&blquo;To see thy noble uncle thus distract.

&blquo;1. G.
&blquo;Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns,
&blquo;By day and night to attend him carefully;
&blquo;And feed his humour kindly as we may,
&blquo;'Till time beget some careful remedy.

&blquo;Mar.
&blquo;Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.

&blquo;Join with the Goths; and, with revengeful war,
&blquo;Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
&blquo;And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Publius, how now? how now, my masters? well;
&blquo;What, have you met with her?

&blquo;1. G.
&blquo;No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,
&blquo;If you will have revenge from hell, you shall:
&blquo;Marry, for justice, she is so employ'd,
&blquo;He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,
&blquo;So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays.
&blquo;I'll dive into the burning lake below,
&blquo;And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.—
&blquo;Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;
&blquo;No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops' size:
&blquo;But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;
&blquo;Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear:—
&blquo;And, sith there is no justice in earth nor hell;
&blquo;We will solicit heaven; and move the gods,
&blquo;To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs:
&blquo;Come, to this gear.—You're a good archer, Marcus; [Pulling out his Arrows.
&blquo;Ad Jovem, that's for you:—here, ad Apollinem:
&blquo;Ad Martem,—O, that's for myself:—
&blquo;Here, boy, to Pallas:—here, to Mercury:
&blquo;To Saturn, Caius; not to Saturnine,
&blquo;You were as good to shoot against the wind.—
&blquo;To it, my boys.—Marcus, loose when I bid.—
&blquo;Sirs, O'my word, I have written to effect;
&blquo;There's not a god left unsollicited.

&blquo;Mar.
&blquo;Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court;
&blquo;We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Now, masters, draw.—[They shoot] O, well said, Lucius!
&blquo;Good boy, in Virgo's lap, she'll give it Pallas!

&blquo;Mar.
&blquo;My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon;
&blquo;Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
&blquo;See, see, thou'st shot off one of Taurus' horns.

&blquo;Mar.
&blquo;This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,

&blquo;The bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock,
&blquo;That down fell both the ram's horns in the court;
&blquo;And who should find them, but the empress' villain:
&blquo;She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose
&blquo;But give them to his master for a present.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Why, there it goes: God give your lordship joy! &blquo;Enter Clown, with a Basket and two Pigeons.
&blquo;News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.—
&blquo;Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
&blquo;Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath taken them down again; for the man must not be hang'd 'till the next week.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.

&blquo;But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?&brquo;

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.

&blquo;Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?&brquo;

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.

&blquo;Why, did'st not thou come from heaven?&brquo;

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;From heaven? alas, sir, I never came there: Heav'n forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.&brquo;

&blquo;Mar.

&blquo;Why, sir, this is as fit as can be, to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.

&blquo;Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?&brquo;

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Sirrah, come hither; make no more ado,
&blquo;But give your pigeons to the emperor:
&blquo;By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
&blquo;Hold, hold;—mean while here's money for thy charges.—
&blquo;Give me a pen and ink.—
&blquo;Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;Ay, sir.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.

&blquo;Then here is a supplication for you. And,

when you come to him, at the first approach, you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.&brquo;

&blquo;Clo.

&blquo;I warrant you, sir; let me alone.&brquo;

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it.—
&blquo;Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
&blquo;For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant:—
&blquo;And when thou hast given it the emperor,
&blquo;Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

&blquo;Clo.
&blquo;Heav'n be with you, Sir; I will.

&blquo;Tit.
&blquo;Come, Marcus, let us go:—Publius, follow me. &blquo;[Exeunt* ^note.

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