Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure.
Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed 188
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. Exit.
Enter Aaron, with [Quintus and Martius,] two of Titus's Sons.
Aar. Come on, my lords, the better foot before: 192
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
Where I espied the panther fast asleep.
Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes.
Mart. And mine, I promise you: were't not for shame, 196
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
Quin. What! art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this,
Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood 200
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Mart. O brother! with the dismal'st object hurt 204
That ever eye with sight made heart lament.
Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find them here,
That he thereby may give a likely guess
How these were they that made away his brother. 208
Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole?
191 spleenful: hot, eager
trull: loose woman
