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11 Cards in this Set

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TITUS ANDRONICUS: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,But I of these will wrest an alphabetAnd by still practise learn to know thy meaning.

Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me:I'll to thy closet; and go read with theeSad stories chanced in the times of old.Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.


EXIT. Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS

Help, grandsire, help! my aunt LaviniaFollows me every where, I know not why:Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,Extremity of griefs would make men mad;And I have read that Hecuba of TroyRan mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;Although, my lord, I know my noble auntLoves me as dear as e'er my mother did,And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:Which made me down to throw my books, and fly--Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;My mother gave it me.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how.But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,She's with the lion deeply still in league,And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,And when he sleeps will she do what she list.You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,And with a gad of steel will write these words,And lay it by: the angry northern windWill blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you?

I say, my lord, that if I were a man,Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safeFor these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oftFor his ungrateful country done the like.

And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

TITUS ANDRONICUS: Come, go with me into mine armoury;Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy,Shalt carry from me to the empress' sonsPresents that I intend to send them both:Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.

AARON: Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

My lords, with all the humbleness I may,I greet your honours from Andronicus.AsideAnd pray the Roman gods confound you both!

DEMETRIUS: Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news?

[Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news,For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you,My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by meThe goodliest weapons of his armouryTo gratify your honourable youth,The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;And so I do, and with his gifts presentYour lordships, that, whenever you have need,You may be armed and appointed well:And so I leave you both:Asidelike bloody villains.Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant

LUCIUS: ...Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave;Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heartWould I were dead, so you did live again!O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping;My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.