She takes the staffe in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps and writes.
Ti. Oh doe ye read my Lord what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius
Mar. What, what, the lustfull sonnes of Tamora, Performers of this hainous bloody deed? Ti. Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides? Mar. Oh calme thee gentle Lord: Although I know There is enough written vpon this earth, To stirre a mutinie in the mildest thoughts, And arme the mindes of infants to exclaimes. My Lord kneele downe with me: Lauinia kneele, And kneele sweet boy, the Romaine Hectors hope, And sweare with me, as with the wofull Feere And father of that chast dishonoured Dame, Lord Iunius Brutus sweare for Lucrece rape, That we will prosecute (by good aduise) Mortall reuenge vpon these traytorous Gothes, And see their blood, or die with this reproach
Ti. Tis sure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if she winde you once, Shee's with the Lyon deepely still in league. And lulls him whilst she playeth on her backe, And when he sleepes will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I will goe get a leafe of brasse, And with a Gad of steele will write these words, And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde Will blow these sands like Sibels leaues abroad, And wheres your lesson then. Boy what say you? Boy. I say my Lord, that if I were a man, Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe, For these bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome
Mar. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his vngratefull country done the like
Boy. And Vncle so will I, and if I liue
Ti. Come goe with me into mine Armorie, Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy Shall carry from me to the Empresse sonnes, Presents that I intend to send them both, Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy. I with my dagger in their bosomes Grandsire: Ti. No boy not so, Ile teach thee another course, Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my house, Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court, I marry will we sir, and weele be waited on.
Mar. O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus attend him in his extasie, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Then foe-mens markes vpon his batter'd shield, But yet so iust, that he will not reuenge, Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus.
Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one dore: and at another dore young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ vpon them.
Chi. Demetrius heeres the sonne of Lucius, He hath some message to deliuer vs
Aron. I some mad message from his mad Grandfather
Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenesse I may, I greete your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Romane Gods confound you both
Deme. Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes? For villanie's markt with rape. May it please you, My Grandsire well aduis'd hath sent by me, The goodliest weapons of his Armorie, To gratifie your honourable youth, The hope of Rome, for so he bad me say: And so I do and with his gifts present Your Lordships, when euer you haue need, You may be armed and appointed well, And so I leaue you both: like bloody villaines.
Deme. What's heere? a scrole, & written round about? Let's see. Integer vitŠ scelerisque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus