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 the 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 gibbet-maker? 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 Jubiter; 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?