'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:'[4587]
'Ad Martem,' that's for myself:[4588]
Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury: 55
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;[4589]
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.[4590]
Of my word, I have written to effect;[4591]
There's not a god left unsolicited. 60
Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:[4592]
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O, well said, Lucius![4593]
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.[4594]
Marc. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;[4595] 65
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
Tit. Ha, ha![4596]
Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?[4596]
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.[4597]
Marc. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot, 70
The Bull, being gall'd, 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?[4598]
She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present. 75
Tit. Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy![4599]
Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it.[4600]
News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.[4601]
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?
Clo. O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken[4602] 80
them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the
next week.