Rome. A Public Place.
 Enter TITUS, old MARCUS, young Lucius the BOY,
 and other gentlemen, PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS and CAIUS with bows,
 and TITUS bears the arrows with letters on the end of them.

Titus	Come, Marcus, come. Kinsmen, this is the way.
	Sir boy, let me see your archery.
	Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.
	Terras Astraea reliquit.
	Be you remembered, Marcus; she's gone, she's fled.
	Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall
	Go sound the ocean and cast your nets;
	Happily you may catch her in the sea;
	Yet there's as little justice as at land.
	No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;
	'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,
	And pierce the inmost centre of the earth.
	Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
	I pray you deliver him this petition;
	Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,
	And that it comes from old Andronicus,
	Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.
	Ah, Rome! Well, well, I made thee miserable
	What time I threw the people's suffrages
	On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
	Go, get you gone, and pray be careful all,
	And leave you not a man-of-war unsearched.
	This wicked emperor may have shipped her hence,
	And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

Marcus	O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
	To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

Publius	Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns
	By day and night t'attend him carefully
	And feed his humour kindly as we may,
	Till time beget some careful remedy.

Marcus	Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
	Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war
	Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
	And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Titus	Publius, how now! How now, my masters!
	What, have you met with her?

Publius	No, my good lord, but Pluto sends you word,
	If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:
	Marry, for Justice, she is so employed,
	He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,
	So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

Titus	He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
	I'll dive into the burning lake below,
	And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
	Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
	No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size,
	But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
	Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear;
	And sith there's no justice in earth nor hell,
	We will solicit heaven and move the gods
	To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.
	Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus.
										[He gives them the arrows.
	"Ad Jovem" that's for you. Here, "Ad Apollinem".
	"Ad Martem", that's for myself.
	Here, boy, "to Pallas". Here, "to Mercury".
	"To Saturn' Caius, not 'to Saturnine".
	You were as good to shoot against the wind.
	To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
	Of my word, I have written to effect;
	There's not a god left unsolicited.

Marcus	Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
	We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Titus	Now, masters, draw.
													[They shoot.
							O, well said, Lucius!
	Good boy, in Virgo's lap. Give it Pallas.

Marcus	My lord, I aimed a mile beyond the moon;
	Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Titus	Ha, ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
	See, see! Thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.

Marcus	This was the sport, my lord; when Publius shot,
	The Bull, being galled, gave Aries such a knock
	That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court-
	And who should find them but the empress' villain?
	She laughed, and told the Moor he should not choose
	But give them to his master for a present.

Titus	Why, there it goes. God give his lordship joy!

            Enter a CLOWN with a basket and two pigeons in it.

	News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.
	Sirrah, what tidings? Have you any letters?
	Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter?

Clown	Ho, the gibbetmaker? He says that he hath taken them down 
	again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

Titus	But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

Clown	Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter. I never drank with him in 
	all my life.

Titus	Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

Clown	Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

Titus	Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

Clown	From heaven? Alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid I 
	should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, 
	I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take 
	up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the 
	emperial's men.

Marcus	Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your 
	oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor 
	from you.

Titus	Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a 
	grace?

Clown	Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

Titus	Sirrah, come hither. Make no more ado,
	But give your pigeons to the emperor.
	By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
	Hold, hold! Meanwhile, here's money for thy charges.
	Give me pen and ink.
	Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a supplication?
													[He writes.
Clown	Ay, sir.

Titus	[Giving him a paper.] Then here is a supplication for you; 
	and when you come to him, at the first approach you must 
	kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, 
	and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see 
	you do it bravely.

Clown	I warrant you, sir; let me alone.

Titus	Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it.
	Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration,
	For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant.
	And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
	Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

Clown	God be with you, sir, I will.
													[Exit.
Titus	Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.
													[Exeunt.
