992Or wanting strength to doe thee so much good,

993I may be pluckt into the swallowing wombe,

994Of this deepe pit, poore Bassianus graue:

995I haue no strength to plucke thee to the brinke.

996Martius. Nor I no strength to clime without thy help.

997Quin. Thy hand once more, I will not loose againe,

998Till thou art heere aloft, or I below,

999Thou can'st not come to me, I come to thee. Boths fall in.

1001Satur. Along with me, Ile see what hole is heere,

1002And what he is that now is leapt into it.

1003Say, who art thou that lately did'st descend,

1004Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

1005Marti. The vnhappie sonne of old Andronicus,

1006Brought hither in a most vnluckie houre,

1007To finde thy brother Bassianus dead.

1008Satur. My brother dead? I know thou dost but iest,

1009He and his Lady both are at the Lodge,

1010Vpon the North-side of this pleasant Chase,

1011'Tis not an houre since I left him there.

1012Marti. We know not where you left him all aliue,

1013But out alas, heere haue we found him dead.

1015Tamo. Where is my Lord the King?

1016King. Heere Tamora, though grieu'd with killing griefe.

1017Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus?

1018King. Now to the bottome dost thou search my wound,

1019Poore Bassianus heere lies murthered.

1020Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatall writ,

1021The complot of this timelesse Tragedie,

1022And wonder greatly that mans face can fold,

1023In pleasing smiles such murderous Tyrannie.

1034King. Oh Tamora, was euer heard the like?

1035This is the pit, and this the Elder tree,

1036Looke sirs, if you can finde the huntsman out,

1037That should haue murthered Bassianus heere.

1038Aron. My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold.

1039King. Two of thy whelpes, fell Curs of bloody kind

1040Haue heere bereft my brother of his life:

1041Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prison,

1042There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'd

1043Some neuer heard-of tortering paine for them.

1044Tamo. What are they in this pit,

1045Oh wondrous thing!

1046How easily murder is discouered?

1047Tit. High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee,

1048I beg this boone, with teares, not lightly shed,

1049That this fell fault of my accursed Sonnes,

1050Accursed, if the faults be prou'd in them.

1051King. If it be prou'd? you see it is apparant,

1052Who found this Letter, Tamora was it you?

1053Tamora. Andronicus himselfe did take it vp.

1054Tit. I did my Lord,

1055Yet let me be their baile,

1056For by my Fathers reuerent Tombe I vow

1057They shall be ready at yout Highnes will,

1058To answere their suspition with their liues.

1059King. Thou shalt not baile them, see thou follow me:

1060Some bring the murthered body, some the murtherers,

1061Let them not speake a word, the guilt is plaine,

1062For by my soule, were there worse end then death,

1063That end vpon them should be executed.

1064Tamo. Andronicus I will entreat the King,

1065Feare not thy Sonnes, they shall do well enough.

1066Tit. Come Lucius come,

1067Stay not to talke with them. Exeunt.

1070Deme. So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake,

1071Who t'was that cut thy tongue and rauisht thee.

1072Chi. Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,

1073And if thy stumpes will let thee play the Scribe.

1074Dem. See how with signes and tokens she can scowle.

1075Chi. Goe home,

1076Call for sweet water, wash thy hands.

1077Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash.

1078And so let's leaue her to her silent walkes.

1079Chi. And t'were my cause, I should goe hang myselfe.

1080Dem. If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the cord.

1084Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast?

1085Cosen a word, where is your husband?

1086If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;

1087If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe,

1088That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.

1089Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands

1090Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare

1091Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments

1092Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in

1093And might not gaine so great a happines

1094As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me?

1095Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood,

1096Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde,

1097Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips,

1098Comming and going with thy hony breath.

1099But sure some Tereus hath defloured thee,

1100And least thou should'st detect them, cut thy tongue.

1101Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame:

1102And not wihstanding all this losse of blood,

1103As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts,

1104Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans face,

1105Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,

1106Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so?

1107Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beast

1108That I might raile at him to ease my mind.

1109Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt,

1110Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is.

1111Faire Philomela she but lost her tongue,

1112And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde.

1113But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee,

1114A craftier Tereus hast thou met withall,

1115And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,

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