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LUCIUS.

Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.

TITUS.

Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs.

Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say

That to her brother which I said to thee:

His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,

Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.

O, what a sympathy of woe is this

As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!

Enter AARON the Moor

AARON. 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.

TITUS.

O gracious Emperor! O 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?

LUCIUS.

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.

MARCUS.

Which of your hands hath not defended Rome

And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,

Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?

O, none of both but are of high desert!

My hand hath been but idle; let it serve

To ransom my two nephews from their death;

Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

AARON.

Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,

For fear they die before their pardon come.

MARCUS.

My hand shall go.

LUCIUS.

By heaven, it shall not go!

TITUS.

Sirs, strive no more; such with'red herbs as these

Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

LUCIUS.

Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,

Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

MARCUS.

And for our father's sake and mother's care,

Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

TITUS.

Agree between you; I will spare my hand.

LUCIUS.

Then I'll go fetch an axe.

MARCUS.

But I will use the axe.

Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS

TITUS.

Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both;

Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.

AARON.

[Aside] 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.

[He cuts off TITUS' hand]

Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS

TITUS.

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.

AARON.

I go, Andronicus; and for thy hand

Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.

[Aside] Their heads I mean. O, how this villainy

Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!

Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace:

Aaron will have his soul black like his face. Exit

TITUS. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,

And bow this feeble ruin to the earth;

If any power pities wretched tears,

To that I call! [To LAVINIA] What, would'st thou kneel with me?

Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers,

Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim

And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds

When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

MARCUS.

O brother, speak with possibility,

And do not break into these deep extremes.

TITUS.

Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?

Then be my passions bottomless with them.

MARCUS.

But yet let reason govern thy lament.

TITUS.

If there were reason for these miseries,

Then into limits could I bind my woes.

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?

If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,

Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swol'n face?

And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?

I am the sea; hark how her sighs do blow.

She is the weeping welkin,