MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
[MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife]
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?
MARCUS ANDRONICUS At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.
TITUS ANDRONICUS 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.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
TITUS ANDRONICUS 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
kill'd him.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
TITUS ANDRONICUS 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.
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