Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart;
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:
A deed of death
done on the innocent
Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone:
I see thou art not for my company.
Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
But how, if that fly had a father and mother?
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz lamenting
doings in the air!
Poor harmless fly,
That, with his pretty buzzing melody,
Came here to make us merry!
and thou hast
Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
O, O, O,
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife,
I will insult on him;
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor
Come hither purposely to poison me.
for thyself, and that's for Tamora.
Yet, I think, we are not brought so low,
But that between us
we can kill a fly
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances.
Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me:
I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee
Sad stories chanced in
the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,
And thou shalt read when mine begin to
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd,
and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission.
See our FAQ for more details.