Clo. O! the gibbet-maker? He says that he
hath taken them down again, for the man must 80
not be hanged till the next week.
Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
Clo. Alas! sir, I know not Jupiter; I never
drank with him in all my life. 84
Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?
Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.
Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven?
Clo. From heaven! alas! sir, I never came 88
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 92
of the emperial's men.
Mar. 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. 96
Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to
the emperor with a grace?
Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace
in all my life. 100
Tit. 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. 104
Give me pen and ink.
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?
Clo. Ay, sir.
Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. 108
And when you come to him, at the first ap-
91 tribunal plebs: tribune of the people (properly, tribunus plebis)
91, 92 take up: make up
93 emperial's: emperor's
