No, Titus, no! Soemus was the man To risk the daring bid in his own person That makes another’s grace a needless prop. For that sole cause I gave it him. I thought:-- “’Tis done for self if ’tis not done for you.” Yes, had he been a lesser than he is And had he not in Rome friends in such plenty I could have thought it true. But now--no, no, There was one only ground. TITUS. And yet he’ll not Confess that one. HEROD. He were not what he is If he should do it, for he knows full well What follows that, and hopes now through his lying To waken in my breast one last misdoubting Such as will guard, if not perchance his head, Then hers before the coming bulk of death. He errs, though. That misdoubting lacks its sting. Had I no cause to punish what she did I’d punish that which she became and is. Ha, had she ever been what she has seemed She never could have donned this shifting slough And I’ll take vengeance on the duplex Thing. Yes, Titus, yes, I swear it by the key Of Paradise that she holds in her hands, By all beatitude that she erewhile Has granted me, that she can grant me still, Yea, by this instant’s shudder which monitions That I in her will blot myself to nothing, I make an end howe’er the matter stand. TITUS. It is too late to make the cry of warning “Give not the order!” and I know myself No means of leading this to issue clear And therefore cannot dare to say “Hold! Hold!” [_Enter_ JOAB. SCENE 4 THE SAME. JOAB. HEROD (_to_ JOAB). Are they assembled? JOAB. Long since. From the prison I must announce to you what seems of weight. We cannot bring this Sameas to such lengths That he’ll disbody soul. HEROD. I gave command He should be put to torture till he do it. (_To_ TITUS.) This man had sworn, I’ve heard, that he would kill him Could he not make me in his own sweet likeness, Which process is to break what he has named The heathenish notions in me. Since he’s failed I now use force on him his oath to keep, His death’s a right good thousandfold deserved. TITUS. I had myself been urgent for his death, For me he has reviled and Rome in me And that can everywhere be granted pardon But here among this stubborn-stomached folk. HEROD (_to_ JOAB). Well then? JOAB.