QUINTUS.
My sight is very dull, whate’er it bodes.
MARTIUS.
And mine, I promise you; were’t not for shame,
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
[Falls into the pit.]
QUINTUS.
What, art thou fallen?—What subtle hole is this,
Whose mouth is cover’d with rude-growing briers,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
As fresh as morning dew distill’d on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.—
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
MARTIUS.
O brother, with the dismallest object hurt
That ever eye with sight made heart lament!
AARON.
[Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here,
That he thereby may have a likely guess
How these were they that made away his brother.
[Exit.]
MARTIUS.
Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallow’d and blood-stained hole?
QUINTUS.
I am surprised with an uncouth fear;
A chilling sweat o’er-runs my trembling joints;
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
MARTIUS.
To prove thou hast a true divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
QUINTUS.
Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise:
O, tell me who it is; for ne’er till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
MARTIUS.
Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter’d lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
QUINTUS.
If it be dark, how dost thou know ‘tis he?
MARTIUS.
Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus
When he by night lay bath’d in maiden blood.
O brother, help me with thy fainting hand,—
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath,—
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus’ misty mouth.
QUINTUS.
Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck’d into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus’ grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
MARTIUS.
Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.
QUINTUS.
Thy hand once more; I will not lose again,
Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me,—I come to thee.
[Falls in.]
[Enter SATURNINUS with AARON.]
SATURNINUS.
Along with me: I’ll see what hole is here,
And what he is that now is leap’d into it.—
Say, who art thou that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
MARTIUS.
The unhappy sons of old Andronicus,
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.
SATURNINUS.
My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest:
He and his lady both are at the lodge
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;
‘Tis not an hour since I left them there.
MARTIUS.
We know not where you left them all alive;
But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.
[Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS and LUCIUS.]
TAMORA.
Where is my lord the king?
SATURNINUS.
Here, Tamora; though griev’d with killing grief.
TAMORA.
Where is thy brother Bassianus?
SATURNINUS.
Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound;
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
TAMORA.
Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
[Giving a letter.]
The complot of this timeless tragedy;
And wonder greatly that man’s face can fold
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
SATURNINUS.
[Reads] ‘An if we miss to meet him handsomely,—
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus ‘tis we mean,—
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him:
Thou know’st our meaning. Look for thy reward
Among the nettles at the elder-tree
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.’
O Tamora! was ever heard the like?—
This is the pit and this the elder-tree:—
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out
That should have murder’d Bassianus here.
AARON.
My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
[Showing it.]
SATURNINUS.
[To TITUS] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind,
Have here bereft my brother of his life.—
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison: