For such a sight will blind a father's eye. One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back; for we will mourn with thee: O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt. ACT II I. SCENE I. Rome. A street. Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; TITUS going before, pleading. "Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! "For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent "In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; "For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; "For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; "And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; "Be pitiful to my condemned sons, "Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. "For two and twenty sons I never wept, "Because they died in honor's lofty bed : For these, good tribunes, in the dust I write [throwing himself on the ground. My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. "Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. [Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, &c. with the prisoners. "O earth! I will befriend thee more with rain, "That shall distil from these two ancient urns, "Than youthful April shall with all his showers. "In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still; "In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow, "And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, "So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn. O, reverend tribunes! gentle-aged-men! Lucius. O, noble father, you lament in vain : you recount your sorrows to a stone. Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead : Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Lucius. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: or if they did mark, They would not pity me; yet plead I must, All bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress. Yet in some sort they 're better than the tribunes, When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Rome could afford no tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax; tribunes more hard than stones : A stone is silent, and offendeth not; And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? Lucius. To rescue my two brothers from their death: For which attempt, the judges have pronounced Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA. Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. Mar. This was thy daughter. Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. Lucius. Ah me! this object kills me! Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? Or brought a fagot to bright-burning Troy? Is, that the one will help to cut the other. Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! Lucius. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer, That hath received some unrecuring wound. Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her, Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead: For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance, because she knows them innocent. |