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11 Cards in this Set

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MARCUS ANDRONICUS: My lord, this is impiety in you:My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for himHe must be buried with his brethren.

And shall, or him we will accompany.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: 'And shall!' what villain was it that spakethat word?

He that would vouch it in any place but here.

MARTIUS: He is not with himself; let us withdraw.

Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--

Father, and in that name doth nature speak,--

AARON: Come on, my lords, the better foot before:Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pitWhere I espied the panther fast asleep.

My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.

MARTIUS: And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame,Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.Falls into the pit

What art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this,Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers,Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed bloodAs fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers?A very fatal place it seems to me.Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?

MARTIUS: Why dost not comfort me, and help me outFrom this unhallowed and blood-stained hole?

I am surprised with an uncouth fear;A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints:My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.

MARTIUS: To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,Aaron and thou look down into this den,And see a fearful sight of blood and death.

Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heartWill not permit mine eyes once to beholdThe thing whereat it trembles by surmise;O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till nowWas I a child to fear I know not what.

MARTIUS: Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb,In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.

If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he?

MARTIUS: Upon his bloody finger he doth wearA precious ring, that lightens all the hole,Which, like a taper in some monument,Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:So pale did shine the moon on PyramusWhen he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.O brother, help me with thy fainting hand--If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath--Out of this fell devouring receptacle,As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,I may be pluck'd into the swallowing wombOf this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave.I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.

MARTIUS: Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.

Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,Till thou art here aloft, or I below:Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.Falls in