hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? 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 emperial's men. 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. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace? Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. 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 a supplication? Ay, sir. 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. I warrant you, sir, let me alone. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant. And when thou hast given it the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. God be with you, sir; I will. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen An emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent Of egal justice, used in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, But even with law, against the willful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress: See, here's to Jove, and this