CLOWN.
From heaven? Alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperal’s men.
MARCUS.
Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.
TITUS.
Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?
CLOWN.
Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.
TITUS.
Sirrah, come hither. Make no more ado,
But give your pigeons to the emperor.
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
Hold, hold; meanwhile here’s money for thy charges.
Give me pen and ink.
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a supplication?
CLOWN.
Ay, sir.
TITUS.
Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I’ll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.
CLOWN.
I warrant you, sir; let me alone.
TITUS.
Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come let me see it.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant.
And when thou hast given it to the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
CLOWN.
God be with you, sir; I will.