Page:Titus Andronicus (1926) Yale.djvu/69

Titus Andronicus, IV. i

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;

My mother gave it me.

Mar. For love of her that's gone,

Perhaps, she cull'd it from among the rest.

Tit. Soft! so busily she turns the leaves! Help her.

What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?

This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape;

And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

Mar. See, brother, see! note how she quotes the leaves.

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl,

Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,

Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?

See, see!

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,—

O had we never, never hunted there!—

Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,

By nature made for murthers and for rapes.

Mar. O! why should nature build so foul a den,

Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends,

What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:

Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,

That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me

Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,

Inspire me, that I may this treason find!

My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia:

 47 Philomel; cf. n. on II. iii. 43

49 annoy: suffering

50 quotes: examines

57 Pattern'd by: fashioned after

63 erst: formerly

