Titus Andronicus

Ad Iouem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem,Ad Martem, that's for my selfe,Heere Boy to Pallas, heere to Mercury,To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine,You were as good to shoote against the winde.Too it Boy, Marcus loose when I bid:Of my word, I haue written to effect,Ther's not a God left vnsollicited   Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court,We will afflict the Emperour in his pride   Tit. Now Maisters draw, Oh well said Lucius:Good Boy in Virgoes lap, giue it Pallas   Marc. My Lord, I aime a Mile beyond the Moone,Your letter is with Iupiter by this   Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus hornes   Mar. This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot,The Bull being gal'd, gaue Aries such a knocke,That downe fell both the Rams hornes in the Court,And who should finde them but the Empresse villaine:She laught, and told the Moore he should not chooseBut giue them to his Maister for a present   Tit. Why there it goes, God giue your Lordship ioy.

Enter the Clowne with a basket and two Pigeons in it.

Titus. Newes, newes, from heauen, Marcus the poast is come. Sirrah, what tydings? haue you any letters? Shall I haue Iustice, what sayes Iupiter? Clowne. Ho the Iibbetmaker, he sayes that he hath taken them downe againe, for the man must not be hang'd till the next weeke

   Tit. But what sayes Iupiter I aske thee?  Clowne. Alas sir I know not Iupiter:I neuer dranke with him in all my life   Tit. Why villaine art not thou the Carrier?  Clowne. I of my Pigions sir, nothing else

Tit. Why, did'st thou not come from heauen? Clowne. From heauen? Alas sir, I neuer came there, God forbid I should be so bold, to presse to heauen in my young dayes. Why I am going with my pigeons to the Tribunall Plebs, to take vp a matter of brawle, betwixt my Vncle, and one of the Emperialls men

Mar. Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serue for your Oration, and let him deliuer the Pigions to the Emperour from you

   Tit. Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Emperourwith a Grace?  Clowne. Nay truely sir, I could neuer say grace in allmy life

Tit. Sirrah come hither, make no more adoe, But giue your Pigeons to the Emperour, By me thou shalt haue Iustice at his hands. Hold, hold, meane while her's money for thy charges. Giue me pen and inke. Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliuer a Supplication? Clowne. I sir Titus. Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneele, then kisse his foote, then deliuer vp your Pigeons, and then looke for your reward. Ile be at hand sir, see you do it brauely

Clowne. I warrant you sir, let me alone   Tit. Sirrha hast thou a knife? Come let me see it.Heere Marcus, fold it in the Oration,For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant:And when thou hast giuen it the Emperour,Knocke at my dore, and tell me what he sayes   Clowne. God be with you sir, I will.

Enter.

Tit. Come Marcus let vs goe, Publius follow me.

Exeunt.

Enter Emperour and Empresse, and her two sonnes, the Emperour brings the Arrowes in his hand that Titus shot at him.

  Satur. Why Lords,What wrongs are these? was euer seeneAn Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne,Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extentOf egall iustice, vs'd in such contempt?My Lords, you know the mightfull Gods,(How euer these disturbers of our peaceBuz in the peoples eares) there nought hath past,But euen with law against the willfull SonnesOf old Andronicus. And what and ifHis sorrowes haue so ouerwhelm'd his wits,Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreakes,His fits, his frenzie, and his bitternesse?And now he writes to heauen for his redresse.See, heeres to Ioue, and this to Mercury,This to Apollo, this to the God of warre:Sweet scrowles to flie about the streets of Rome:What's this but Libelling against the Senate,And blazoning our Iniustice euery where?A goodly humour, is it not my Lords?As who would say, in Rome no Iustice were.But if I liue, his fained extasiesShall be no shelter to these outrages:But he and his shall know, that Iustice liuesIn Saturninus health; whom if he sleepe,Hee'l so awake, as he in fury shallCut off the proud'st Conspirator that liues   Tamo. My gracious Lord, my louely Saturnine,Lord of my life, Commander of my thoughts,Calme thee, and beare the faults of Titus age,Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant Sonnes,Whose losse hath pier'st him deepe, and scar'd his heart;And rather comfort his distressed plight,Then prosecute the meanest or the bestFor these contempts. Why thus it shall becomeHigh witted Tamora to glose with all:

Aside.

But Titus, I haue touch'd thee to the quicke,Thy life blood out: If Aaron now be wise,Then is all safe, the Anchor's in the Port.

Enter Clowne.

How now good fellow, would'st thou speake with vs?  Clow. Yea forsooth, and your Mistership be EmperiallTam. Empresse I am, but yonder sits the Emperour   Clo. 'Tis he; God & Saint Stephen giue you good den;I haue brought you a Letter, & a couple of Pigions heere.

He reads the Letter.

Satu. Goe take him away, and hang him presently   Clowne. How much money must I haue?  Tam. Come sirrah you must be hang'd   Clow. Hang'd? ber Lady, then I haue brought vp a neckto a faire end.

Enter.

  Satu. Despightfull and intollerable wrongs,Shall I endure this monstrous villany?I know from whence this same deuise proceedes:May this be borne? As if his traytrous Sonnes,That dy'd by law for murther of our Brother,Haue by my meanes beene butcher'd wrongfully?Goe dragge the villaine hither by the haire,Nor Age, nor Honour, shall shape priuiledge:For this proud mocke, Ile be thy slaughter man:Sly franticke wretch, that holp'st to make me great,In hope thy selfe should gouerne Rome and me.

Enter Nuntius Emillius.

  Satur. What newes with thee Emillius?  Emil. Arme my Lords, Rome neuer had more cause,The Gothes haue gather'd head, and with a powerOf high resolued men, bent to the spoyleThey hither march amaine, vnder conductOf Lucius, Sonne to old Andronicus:Who threats in course of this reuenge to doAs much as euer Coriolanus did   King. Is warlike Lucius Generall of the Gothes?These tydings nip me, and I hang the headAs flowers with frost, or grasse beat downe with stormes:I, now begins our sorrowes to approach,'Tis he the common people loue so much,My selfe hath often heard them say,(When I haue walked like a priuate man)That Lucius banishment was wrongfully,And they haue wisht that Lucius were their Emperour   Tam. Why should you feare? Is not our City strong?  King. I, but the Cittizens fauour Lucius,And will reuolt from me, to succour him   Tam. King, be thy thoughts Imperious like thy name.Is the Sunne dim'd, that Gnats do flie in it?The Eagle suffers little Birds to sing,And is not carefull what they meane thereby,Knowing that with the shadow of his wings,He can at pleasure stint their melodie.Euen so mayest thou, the giddy men of Rome,Then cheare thy spirit, for know thou Emperour,I will enchaunt the old Andronicus,With words more sweet, and yet more dangerousThen baites to fish, or hony stalkes to sheepe,When as the one is wounded with the baite,The other rotted with delicious foodeKing. But he will not entreat his Sonne for vs   Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will,For I can smooth and fill his aged eare,With golden promises, that were his heartAlmost Impregnable, his old eares deafe,Yet should both eare and heart, obey my tongue.Goe thou before to our Embassadour,Say, that the Emperour requests a parlyOf warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting   King. Emillius do this message Honourably,And if he stand in Hostage for his safety,Bid him demaund what pledge will please him best   Emill. Your bidding shall I do effectually.

Enter.

  Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus,And temper him with all the Art I haue,To plucke proud Lucius from the warlike Gothes.And now sweet Emperour be blithe againe,And bury all thy feare in my deuises   Satu. Then goe successantly and plead for him.

Enter.

Actus Quintus.

Flourish. Enter Lucius with an Army of Gothes, with Drum and Souldiers.

  Luci. Approued warriours, and my faithfull Friends,I haue receiued Letters from great Rome,Which signifies what hate they beare their Emperour,And how desirous of our sight they are.Therefore great Lords, be as your Titles witnesse,Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,And wherein Rome hath done you any scathe,Let him make treble satisfaction   Goth. Braue slip, sprung from the Great Andronicus,Whose name was once our terrour, now our comfort,Whose high exploits, and honourable Deeds,Ingratefull Rome requites with foule contempt:Behold in vs, weele follow where thou lead'st,Like stinging Bees in hottest Sommers day,Led by their Maister to the flowred fields,And be aueng'd on cursed Tamora:And as he saith, so say we all with him   Luci. I humbly thanke him, and I thanke you all.But who comes heere, led by a lusty Goth?Enter a Goth leading of Aaron with his child in his armes.  Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troups I straid,To gaze vpon a ruinous Monasterie,And as I earnestly did fixe mine eyeVpon the wasted building, suddainelyI heard a childe cry vnderneath a wall:I made vnto the noyse, when soone I heard,The crying babe control'd with this discourse:Peace Tawny slaue, halfe me, and halfe thy Dam,Did not thy Hue bewray whose brat thou art?Had nature lent thee, but thy Mothers looke,Villaine thou might'st haue bene an Emperour.But where the Bull and Cow are both milk-white,They neuer do beget a cole-blacke-Calfe:Peace, villaine peace, euen thus he rates the babe,For I must beare thee to a trusty Goth,Who when he knowes thou art the Empresse babe,Will hold thee dearely for thy Mothers sake.With this, my weapon drawne I rusht vpon him,Surpriz'd him suddainely, and brought him hitherTo vse, as you thinke needefull of the man   Luci. Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate deuill,That rob'd Andronicus of his good hand:This is the Pearle that pleas'd your Empresse eye,And heere's the Base Fruit of his burning lust.Say wall-ey'd slaue, whether would'st thou conuayThis growing Image of thy fiend-like face?Why dost not speake? what deafe? Not a word?A halter Souldiers, hang him on this Tree,And by his side his Fruite of BastardieAron. Touch not the Boy, he is of Royall blood   Luci. Too like the Syre for euer being good.First hang the Child that he may see it sprall,A sight to vexe the Fathers soule withall   Aron. Get me a Ladder Lucius, saue the Childe,And beare it from me to the Empresse:If thou do this, Ile shew thee wondrous things,That highly may aduantage thee to heare;If thou wilt not, befall what may befall,Ile speake no more: but vengeance rot you all   Luci. Say on, and if it please me which thou speak'st,Thy child shall liue, and I will see it Nourisht   Aron. And if it please thee? why assure thee Lucius,'Twill vexe thy soule to heare what I shall speake:For I must talke of Murthers, Rapes, and Massacres,Acts of Blacke-night, abhominable Deeds,Complots of Mischiefe, Treason, VillaniesRuthfull to heare, yet pittiously perform'd,And this shall all be buried by my death,Vnlesse thou sweare to me my Childe shall liue   Luci. Tell on thy minde,I say thy Childe shall liueAron. Sweare that he shall, and then I will begin   Luci. Who should I sweare by,Thou beleeuest no God,That graunted, how can'st thou beleeue an oath?  Aron. What if I do not, as indeed I do not,Yet for I know thou art Religious,And hast a thing within thee, called Conscience,With twenty Popish trickes and Ceremonies,Which I haue seene thee carefull to obserue:Therefore I vrge thy oath, for that I knowAn Ideot holds his Bauble for a God,And keepes the oath which by that God he sweares,To that Ile vrge him: therefore thou shalt vowBy that same God, what God so ere it beThat thou adorest, and hast in reuerence,To saue my Boy, to nourish and bring him vp,Ore else I will discouer nought to theeLuci. Euen by my God I sweare to thee I will   Aron. First know thou,I begot him on the Empresse   Luci. Oh most Insatiate luxurious woman!  Aron. Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of Charitie,To that which thou shalt heare of me anon,'Twas her two Sonnes that murdered Bassianus,They cut thy Sisters tongue, and rauisht her,And cut her hands off, and trim'd her as thou saw'st   Lucius. Oh detestable villaine!Call'st thou that Trimming?  Aron. Why she was washt, and cut, and trim'd,And 'twas trim sport for them that had the doing of it   Luci. Oh barbarous beastly villaines like thy selfe!  Aron. Indeede, I was their Tutor to instruct themThat Codding spirit had they from their Mother,As sure a Card as euer wonne the Set:That bloody minde I thinke they learn'd of me,As true a Dog as euer fought at head.Well, let my Deeds be witnesse of my worth:I trayn'd thy Bretheren to that guilefull Hole,Where the dead Corps of Bassianus lay:I wrote the Letter, that thy Father found,And hid the Gold within the Letter mention'd.Confederate with the Queene, and her two Sonnes,And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue,Wherein I had no stroke of Mischeife in it.I play'd the Cheater for thy Fathers hand,And when I had it, drew my selfe apart,And almost broke my heart with extreame laughter.I pried me through the Creuice of a Wall,When for his hand, he had his two Sonnes heads,Beheld his teares, and laught so hartily,That both mine eyes were rainie like to his:And when I told the Empresse of this sport,She sounded almost at my pleasing tale,And for my tydings, gaue me twenty kisses   Goth. What canst thou say all this, and neuer blush?  Aron. I, like a blacke Dogge, as the saying is   Luci. Art thou not sorry for these hainous deedes?  Aron. I, that I had not done a thousand more:Euen now I curse the day, and yet I thinkeFew come within few compasse of my curse,Wherein I did not some Notorious ill,As kill a man, or else deuise his death,Rauish a Maid, or plot the way to do it,Accuse some Innocent, and forsweare my selfe,Set deadly Enmity betweene two Friends,Make poore mens Cattell breake their neckes,Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night,And bid the Owners quench them with the teares:Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues,And set them vpright at their deere Friends doore,Euen when their sorrowes almost was forgot,And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees,Haue with my knife carued in Romaine Letters,Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.Tut, I haue done a thousand dreadfull thingsAs willingly, as one would kill a Fly,And nothing greeues me hartily indeede,But that I cannot doe ten thousand more   Luci. Bring downe the diuell, for he must not dieSo sweet a death as hanging presently   Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill,To liue and burne in euerlasting fire,So I might haue your company in hell,But to torment you with my bitter tongue   Luci. Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speake no more.

Enter Emillius.

  Goth. My Lord, there is a Messenger from RomeDesires to be admitted to your presence   Luc. Let him come neere.Welcome Emillius, what the newes from Rome?  Emi. Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Gothes,The Romaine Emperour greetes you all by me,And for he vnderstands you are in Armes,He craues a parly at your Fathers houseWilling you to demand your Hostages,And they shall be immediately deliuered   Goth. What saies our Generall?  Luc. Emillius, let the Emperour giue his pledgesVnto my Father, and my Vncle Marcus,

Flourish.

And we will come: march away.

Exeunt.

Enter Tamora, and her two Sonnes disguised.

  Tam. Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament,I will encounter with Andronicus,And say, I am Reuenge sent from below,To ioyne with him and right his hainous wrongs:Knocke at his study where they say he keepes,To ruminate strange plots of dire Reuenge,Tell him Reuenge is come to ioyne with him,And worke confusion on his Enemies.

They knocke and Titus opens his study dore.

  Tit. Who doth mollest my Contemplation?Is it your tricke to make me ope the dore,That so my sad decrees may flie away,And all my studie be to no effect?You are deceiu'd, for what I meane to do,See heere in bloody lines I haue set downe:And what is written shall be executed   Tam. Titus, I am come to talke with thee,  Tit. No not a word: how can I grace my talke,Wanting a hand to giue it action,Thou hast the ods of me, therefore no more   Tam. If thou did'st know me,Thou would'st talke with me   Tit. I am not mad, I know thee well enough,Witnesse this wretched stump,Witnesse these crimson lines,Witnesse these Trenches made by griefe and care,Witnesse the tyring day, and heauie night,Witnesse all sorrow, that I know thee wellFor our proud Empresse, Mighty Tamora:Is not thy comming for my other hand?  Tamo. Know thou sad man, I am not Tamora,She is thy Enemie, and I thy Friend,I am Reuenge sent from th' infernall Kingdome,To ease the gnawing Vulture of the mind,By working wreakefull vengeance on my Foes:Come downe and welcome me to this worlds light,Conferre with me of Murder and of Death,Ther's not a hollow Caue or lurking place,No Vast obscurity, or Misty vale,Where bloody Murther or detested Rape,Can couch for feare, but I will finde them out,And in their eares tell them my dreadfull name,Reuenge, which makes the foule offenders quake   Tit. Art thou Reuenge? and art thou sent to me,To be a torment to mine Enemies?  Tam. I am, therefore come downe and welcome me   Tit. Doe me some seruice ere I come to thee:Loe by thy side where Rape and Murder stands,Now giue some surance that thou art Reuenge,Stab them, or teare them on thy Chariot wheeles,And then Ile come and be thy Waggoner,And whirle along with thee about the Globes.Prouide thee two proper Palfries, as blacke as Iet,To hale thy vengefull Waggon swift away,And finde out Murder in their guilty cares.And when thy Car is loaden with their heads,I will dismount, and by the Waggon wheele,Trot like a Seruile footeman all day long,Euen from Eptons rising in the East,Vntill his very downefall in the Sea.And day by day Ile do this heauy taske,So thou destroy Rapine and Murder thereTam. These are my Ministers, and come with me   Tit. Are them thy Ministers, what are they call'd?  Tam. Rape and Murder, therefore called so,Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men   Tit. Good Lord how like the Empresse Sons they are,And you the Empresse: But we worldly men,Haue miserable mad mistaking eyes:Oh sweet Reuenge, now do I come to thee,And if one armes imbracement will content thee,I will imbrace thee in it by and by   Tam. This closing with him, fits his Lunacie,What ere I forge to feede his braine-sicke fits,Do you vphold, and maintaine in your speeches,For now he firmely takes me for Reuenge,And being Credulous in this mad thought,Ile make him send for Lucius his Sonne,And whil'st I at a Banquet hold him sure,Ile find some cunning practise out of handTo scatter and disperse the giddie Gothes,Or at the least make them his Enemies:See heere he comes, and I must play my theame   Tit. Long haue I bene forlorne, and all for thee,Welcome dread Fury to my woefull house,Rapine and Murther, you are welcome too,How like the Empresse and her Sonnes you are.Well are you fitted, had you but a Moore,Could not all hell afford you such a deuill?For well I wote the Empresse neuer wags;But in her company there is a Moore,And would you represent our Queene arightIt were conuenient you had such a deuill:But welcome as you are, what shall we doe?  Tam. What would'st thou haue vs doe Andronicus?  Dem. Shew me a Murtherer, Ile deale with him   Chi. Shew me a Villaine that hath done a Rape,And I am sent to be reueng'd on him   Tam. Shew me a thousand that haue done thee wrong,And Ile be reuenged on them all   Tit. Looke round about the wicked streets of Rome,And when thou find'st a man that's like thy selfe,Good Murder stab him, hee's a Murtherer.Goe thou with him, and when it is thy hapTo finde another that is like to thee,Good Rapine stab him, he is a Rauisher.Go thou with them, and in the Emperours Court,There is a Queene attended by a Moore,Well maist thou know her by thy owne proportion,For vp and downe she doth resemble thee.I pray thee doe on them some violent death,They haue bene violent to me and mine   Tam. Well hast thou lesson'd vs, this shall we do.But would it please thee good Andronicus,To send for Lucius thy thrice Valiant Sonne,Who leades towards Rome a Band of Warlike Gothes,And bid him come and Banquet at thy house.When he is heere, euen at thy Solemne Feast,I will bring in the Empresse and her Sonnes,The Emperour himselfe, and all thy Foes,And at thy mercy shall they stoop, and kneele,And on them shalt thou ease, thy angry heart:What saies Andronicus to this deuise?

Enter Marcus.

  Tit. Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls,Go gentle Marcus to thy Nephew Lucius,Thou shalt enquire him out among the Gothes,Bid him repaire to me, and bring with himSome of the chiefest Princes of the Gothes,Bid him encampe his Souldiers where they are,Tell him the Emperour, and the Empresse too,Feasts at my house, and he shall Feast with them,This do thou for my loue, and so let him,As he regards his aged Fathers lifeMar. This will I do, and soone returne againe   Tam. Now will I hence about thy businesse,And take my Ministers along with me   Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me,Or els Ile call my Brother backe againe,And cleaue to no reuenge but Lucius   Tam. What say you Boyes, will you bide with him,Whiles I goe tell my Lord the Emperour,How I haue gouern'd our determined iest?Yeeld to his Humour, smooth and speake him faire,And tarry with him till I turne againe   Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad,And will ore-reach them in their owne deuises,A payre of cursed hell-hounds and their DamDem. Madam depart at pleasure, leaue vs heere   Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuenge now goesTo lay a complot to betray thy FoesTit. I know thou doo'st, and sweet reuenge farewell   Chi. Tell vs old man, how shall we be imploy'd?  Tit. Tut, I haue worke enough for you to doe,Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine   Pub. What is your will?  Tit. Know you these two?  Pub. The Empresse SonnesI take them, Chiron, Demetrius   Titus. Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceau'd,The one is Murder, Rape is the others name,And therefore bind them gentle Publius,Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them,Oft haue you heard me wish for such an houre,And now I find it, therefore binde them sure,  Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the Empresse Sonnes   Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded.Stop close their mouthes, let them not speake a word,Is he sure bound, looke that you binde them fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason.

  Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound,Sirs stop their mouthes, let them not speake to me,But let them heare what fearefull words I vtter.Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius,Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud,This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt,You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd fault,Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death,My hand cut off, and made a merry iest,Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deereThen Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity,Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st.What would you say, if I should let you speake?Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace.Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you,This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats,Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold:The Bason that receiues your guilty blood.You know your Mother meanes to feast with me,And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad.Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust,And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste,And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare,And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads,And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam,Like to the earth swallow her increase.This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to,And this the Banquet she shall surfet on,For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter,And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd,And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come.Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead,Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small,And with this hatefull Liquor temper it,And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte,Come, come, be euery one officious,To make this Banket, which I wish might proue,More sterne and bloody then the Centaures Feast.

He cuts their throats.

So now bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke,And see them ready, gainst their Mother comes.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.

  Luc. Vnckle Marcus, since 'tis my Fathers mindeThat I repair to Rome, I am contentGoth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will   Luc. Good Vnckle take you in this barbarous Moore,This Rauenous Tiger, this accursed deuill,Let him receiue no sustenance, fetter him,Till he be brought vnto the Emperours face,For testimony of her foule proceedings.And see the Ambush of our Friends be strong,If ere the Emperour meanes no good to vs   Aron. Some deuill whisper curses in my eare,And prompt me that my tongue may vtter forth,The Venemous Mallice of my swelling heart   Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slaue,Sirs, helpe our Vnckle, to conuey him in,

Flourish.