Write thou, good Niece,
and here display at last

what God will have
discovered for revenge.

Cursed be the heart
that forced us to this shift.

It's Chiron and Demetrius.
My lord, kneel down with me.
Kneel, Lavinia,
and kneel, sweet boy,

and swear with me
that we will prosecute,

by good advice, mortal revenge
upon these traitorous Goths
and see their blood
or die with this reproach.

'Tis sure enough, an you knew how.
But if you hunt
these bear-whelps,

then beware.
You are a young huntsman, Marcus.
Let alone.
Come, go with me into
mine armory, Lucius. I'll fit thee.

And withal my boy shall send
from me to the empress' sons

presents that I intend
to send them both.

Come, thou'lt do my message,
wilt thou not?

Ay, with my dagger in
their bosoms, Grandsire.

No, not so.
I'll teach thee another course.

Lavinia, come.
Marcus, look to my house.