Page 2165 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2165
Out on thee, murderer! thou kill’st my heart;
Mine eyes are cloyed with view of tyranny:
A deed of death done on the innocent
Becomes not Titus’ brother. Get thee gone;
I see thou art not for my company.
MARCUS
Alas, my lord, I have but killed a fly.
T IT US
‘But!’ How, if that fly bad a father and mother? [60]
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz lamenting doings in the air!
Poor harmless fly,
That, with his pretty buzzing melody,
Came here to make us merry, and thou hast killed him.
MARCUS
Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favoured fly,
Like to the empress’ Moor. Therefore I killed him.
T IT US
O, O, O,
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed. [70]
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him,
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
Come hither purposely to poison me.
There’s for thyself, arid that’s for Tamora.
Ah, sirrah!
Yet I think we are not brought so low,
But that between us we can kill a fly
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
MARCUS
Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances. [80]
T IT US
Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me;
