Chi.
Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius,
He hath some message to deliver us.

Aar.
Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

Boy.
My lords, with all the humbleness I may,

I greet your honours from Andronicus,
And pray the Roman Gods confound you both.

Dem.
Gramercy lovely Lucius, what's the news?

Boy.
That you are both decypher'd (that's the news)
For villians mark'd with rape. May it please you,
My grandsire well advis'd hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armory,
To gratifie your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for so he bad me say:
And so I do, and with his gifts present
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 scrole, and written round about?
Let's see.
Integer vitæ scelerisque purus, non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu.

Chi.
O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well:
I read it in the Grammar long ago.

Aar.
Ay just, a verse in Horace—right, you have it—
Now what a thing it is to be an ass?
Here's no sound jest, th' old man hath found their guilt,
And sends the weapons wrap'd about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick:
But were our witty Empress well a-foot,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit:
But let her rest in her unrest a while.
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome strangers, and more than so,
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 see so great a lord
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.

Aar.
Had he not reason, lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

Dem.
I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.

Chi.
A charitable wish, and full of love.

Aar.
Here lacks but your mother to say Amen.

Chi.
And that would she 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 son.

Dem.
Soft, who comes here?

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