Enter Young Lucius and Lavinia running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm. Enter Titus and Marcus.
YOUNG LUCIUS.
Help, grandsire, help! My aunt Lavinia
Follows me everywhere, I know not why.
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes!
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
MARCUS.
Stand by me, Lucius. Do not fear thine aunt.
TITUS.
She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
YOUNG LUCIUS
Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.
MARCUS.
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
TITUS.
Fear her not, Lucius. Somewhat doth she mean.
See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee.
Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully’s Orator.
MARCUS.
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
YOUNG LUCIUS.
My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her;
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad for sorrow. That made me to fear,
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e’er my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth;
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly,
Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt.
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
MARCUS.
Lucius, I will.