TIT. Will it confume me? let me fee it then.

MAR. This was thy daughter.

TIT. Why, Marcus, fo fhe is.

Luc. Ah me! this object kills me!

TIT. Faint-hearted boy, arife, and look upon her:

2

Speak, my Lavinia, what accurfed hand Hath made thee handlefs in thy father's fight ?3 What fool hath added water to the fea? Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam'ft, And now, like Nilus, it difdaineth bounds.Give me a fword, I'll chop off my hands too ;4 For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life; In bootlefs prayer have they been held up, And they have ferv'd me to effectless use: Now, all the fervice I require of them Is, that the one will help to cut the other.'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou haft no hands; For hands, to do Rome fervice, are but vain. Luc. Speak, gentle fifter, who hath martyr'd

thee?

2 Speak, my Lavinia,] My, which is wanting in the first folio, was fupplied by the fecond. STEEVENS.

3

in thy father's fight?] We fhould read-spight? WARBURTON.

I'll chop off my hands too ;] Perhaps we should read:

or chop off &c.

It is not eafy to difcover how Titus, when he had chopped off one of his hands, would have been able to have chopped off the other. STEEVENS.

I have no doubt but the text is as the author wrote it. Let him anfwer for the blunder. In a fubfequent line Titus fuppofes himself his own executioner :

"Now all the fervice I require of them" &c. MALONE.

MAR. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,5 That blab'd them with fuch pleafing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage; Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it fung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

Luc. O, fay thou for her, who hath done this deed?

MAR. O, thus I found her, ftraying in the park, Seeking to hide herself; as doth the deer,

That hath receiv'd fome unrecuring wound.

TIT. It was my deer; and he, that wounded

her,

Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead :
For now I ftand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of fea;

Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when fome envious furge
Will in his brinifh bowels fwallow him.

This way to death my wretched fons are gone;
Here ftands my other fon, a banifh'd man;
And here my brother, weeping at my woes;
But that, which gives my foul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my foul.-
Had I but feen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me; What fhall I do
Now I behold thy lively body fo?

Thou haft no hands, to wipe away thy tears;
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:

O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,] This piece furnifhes fcarce any refemblances to Shakspeare's works; this one expreffion, however, is found in his Venus and Adonis : "Once more the engine of her thoughts began."

MALONE.

• It was my deer ;] The play upon deer and dear has been used by Waller, who calls a lady's girdle

"The pale that held my lovely deer." JOHNSON.

Thy husband he is dead; and, for his death,
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this:-
Look, Marcus! ah, fon Lucius, look on her!
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

MAR. Perchance, fhe weeps because they kill'd
her husband:

Perchance, because she knows them innocent.

TIT. If they did kill thy husband, then be joy

ful,

Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.-
No, no, they would not do fo foul a deed;
Witnefs the forrow that their fifter makes.-
Gentle Lavinia, let me kifs thy lips;

Or make fome fign how I may do thee eafe:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, fit round about fome fountain;
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks
How they are ftain'd; like meadows," yet not dry
With miry flime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain fhall we gaze fo long,
Till the fresh tafte be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or fhall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or fhall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?

What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot fome device of further mifery,

To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

Luc. Sweet father, ceafe your tears; for, at your grief,

?-like meadows,] Old copies-in meadows. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. MALONE.

See, how my wretched fifter fobs and weeps.

MAR. Patience, dear niece:-good Titus, dry. thine eyes.

TIT. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot, Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,

For thou, poor man, haft drown'd it with thine own.
Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
TIT. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her
figns:

Had the a tongue to fpeak, now would the fay
That to her brother which I said to thee;
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no fervice on her forrowful cheeks.
O, what a fympathy of woe is this?
As far from help as limbo is from bliss !9

Enter AARON.

AAR. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word,-That, if thou love thy fons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyfelf old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And fend it to the king: he for the fame, Will fend thee hither both thy fons alive; And that fhall be the ranfome for their fault. TIT. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron ! Did ever raven fing fo like a lark,

8

true tears.

9

with his true tears] Edition 1600 reads-with her TODD.

as limbo is from blifs.] The Limbus patrum, as it was called, is a place that the schoolmen fuppofed to be in the neighbourhood of hell, where the fouls of the patriarchs were detained, and those good men who died before our Saviour's refurrection. Milton gives the name of Limbo to his Paradife of Fools. REED.

That gives sweet tidings of the funs uprife?
With all my heart, I'll fend the emperor
My hand;

Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?

Luc. Stay, father; for that noble hand of thine,
That hath thrown down fo many enemies,
Shall not be fent: my hand will ferve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine fhall fave my brothers' lives.
MAR. Which of your hands hath not defended
Rome,

And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy's caftle ?1

1

1 Writing deftruction on the enemy's caftle?] Thus all the editions. But Mr. Theobald, after ridiculing the fagacity of the former editors at the expence of a great deal of aukward mirth, corrects it to cafque; and this, he fays, he'll ftand by: And the Oxford editor taking his fecurity, will stand by it too. But what a flippery ground is critical confidence! Nothing could bid fairer for a right conjecture; yet 'tis all imaginary. A clofe helmet, which covered the whole head, was called a caftle, and, I fuppofe, for that very reason. Don Quixote's barber, at least as good a critick as these editors, fays (in Shelton's translation 1612): I know what is a helmet, and what a morrion, and what a close castle, and other things touching warfare." Lib. IV. capi xviii. And the original, celada de encaxe, has fomething of the fame fignification. Shakspeare uses the word again in Troilus and Creffida:

and, Diomede,

"Stand faft, and wear a castle on thy head."

In

WARBURTON. "Dr. Warburton's proof (fays Mr. Heath,) refts wholly on two mistakes, one of a printer, the other of his own. Shelton's Don Quixote the word clofe caftle is an error of the prefs for a clofe cafque, which is the exact interpretation of the Spanish original, celada de encaxe; this Dr. Warburton must have feen, if he had understood Spanish as well as he pretends to do. For the primitive caza, from whence the word encare, is derived, fignifies a box, or coffer; but never a castle. His other proof is taken from this paffage in Troilus and Creffida: