And when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it,
And in that paste let their vile heads be baked.
Come, come, be everyone officious
To make this banquet, which I wish may prove
More stern and bloody than the Centaurs’ feast.
So, now bring them in, for I’ll play the cook,
And see them ready against their mother comes.
[Exeunt, carrying the dead bodies.]
SCENE III. Rome. A Pavilion in Titus’s Gardens, with tables, &c.
Enter Lucius, Marcus and the Goths, with Aaron, prisoner.
LUCIUS.
Uncle Marcus, since ’tis my father’s mind
That I repair to Rome, I am content.
FIRST GOTH.
And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
LUCIUS.
Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;
Let him receive no sust’nance, fetter him,
Till he be brought unto the empress’ face
For testimony of her foul proceedings.
And see the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear the emperor means no good to us.
AARON.
Some devil whisper curses in my ear,
And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
LUCIUS.
Away, inhuman dog, unhallowed slave!
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
[Sound trumpets.]