Aar.
Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperor
Sends thee this word; that if thou love thy sons,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
And send it to the King; he for the same
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive,
And that shall be the ransom for their fault.

Tit.
Oh, gracious Emperor! oh, gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
That gives sweet tidings of the Sun's uprise?
With all my heart, I'll send the Emperor my hand;
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

Luc.
Stay, father, for that noble hand of thine,
That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent; my hand will serve the turn.
My youth can better spare my blood than you,
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.

Mar.
Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-ax,

^{8 note}

Writing Destruction on the enemies' Castle?
Oh, none of Both but are of high desert,
My hand hath been but idle, let it serve
To ransome my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aar.
Nay, come, agree, whose hand shall go along,
For fear they die before their Pardon come.

Mar.
My hand shall go.

Luc.
By heav'n, it shall not go.

Tit.
Sirs, strive no more, such wither'd herbs as these
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

Luc.
Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

Mar.
And for our father's sake, and mother's care,
Now let me shew a brother's love to thee.

Tit.
Agree between you, I will spare my hand.

Luc.
Then I'll go fetch an ax.

Mar.
But I will use the ax. [Exeunt Lucius and Marcus.

Tit.
Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both,
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

Aar.
If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest,
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so.

But I'll deceive you in another sort,
And that, you'll say, ere half an hour pass. [Aside. [He cuts off Titus's hand. Enter Lucius and Marcus again.

Tit.
Now stay your strife; what shall be, is dispatch'd.
Good Aaron, give his Majesty my hand.
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers, bid him bury it;
More hath it merited; that let it have.
As for my sons, say, I account of them
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Aar.
I go, Andronicus; and for thy hand
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.
Their heads, I mean.—Oh, how this villany [Aside.
Doth fat me with the very thought of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit.

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