Sat.
Why lords, what wrongs are these? was ever seen
An Emperor of Rome thus over-born,
Troubled, confronted thus, and for th' extent
Of equal justice, us'd in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as do the mightful Gods,
(However the disturbers of our peace,
Buz in the peoples ears) there nought hath past,
But even with law against the willful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what and if
His sorrows have so over-whelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frensie, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heav'n for his redress.
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury,
This to Apollo, this to the God of war:
Sweet scrowls to fly about the streets of Rome.

What's this but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice ev'ry where?
A goodly humour, is it not my lords?
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecsttasies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know, that Justice lives
In Saturninus' health, whom, if she sleep,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

Tam.
My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thought,
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his heart;
And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Than prosecute the meanest or the best,
For these contempts—Why thus it shall become
High-witted Tamora to glose withal:
But Titus I have touch'd thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood on't: if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. [Aside. Enter Clown.
How now, good fellow, would'st thou speak with us?

Clow.
Yea forsooth, an your Mistership be Emperial.

Tam.
Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.

Clow.
'Tis he: God and St. Stephen give you good-e'en,
I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [He reads the letter.

Sat.

Go, take him away, and hang him presently.

Clow.
How much mony must I have?

Tam.
Come, sirrah, thou must be hang'd.

Clow.

Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.

Sat.
Despightful and intolerable wrongs,
Shall I endure this mostrous villany?
I know from whence this same device proceeds:
May this be born? as if his traiterous sons,
That dy'd by law for murther of our brother,
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair,
Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.
For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughter-man;
Sly frantick wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thy self should govern Rome and me. Enter Nuntius Æmilius.

Sat.
What news with thee, Æmilius?

Æmil.
Arm, my lords; Rome never had more cause;
The Goths have gather'd head, and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under the conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus:
Who threats in course of his revenge to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.

Sat.
Is warlike Lucius General of the Goths?
These tidings nip me, and I hang the head
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.
Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach,
'Tis he the common people love so much,
My self hath often heard them say,
(When I have walked like a private man)
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,
And they have wish'd that Lucius were their Emperor.

Tam.
Why should you fear? is not our city strong?

Sat.
Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me, to succour him.

Tam.
King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.
Is the sun dim'd, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings,
He can at pleasure stint their melody;
Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit, for know, thou Emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus,
With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep,
When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious food.

Sat.
But he will not intreat his son for us.

Tam.
If Tamora intreat him, then he will:
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ear
With golden promises, that were his heart
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
Go thou before as our embassador, [To Æmilius.
Say, that the Emperor requests a parley
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting.

Sat.
Æmilius, do this message honourably;
And if he stand on hostage for his safety,
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

Æmil.
Your bidding shall I do effectually. [Exit.

Tam.
Now will I to that old Andronicus,
And temper him with all the art I have,
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, sweet Emperor, be blith again,

And bury all thy fear in my devices.

Sat.
Then go successfully and plead to him. [Exe.

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