Enter Martius and Mutius; After them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then Lucius and Quintus. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, with Alarbus, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the coffin, and Titus speaks
Titus Andronicus
Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,
Returns with precious jading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh’d her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive let Rome reward with love;
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.
Titus, unkind and careless of thine own,
Why suffer’st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
The tomb is opened
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country’s wars!
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!
Lucius
Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeased,
Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth.
Titus Andronicus
I give him you, the noblest that survives,
The eldest son of this distressed queen.
Tamora
Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother’s tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my son to be as dear to me!
Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome,
To beautify thy triumphs and return,
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke,
But must my sons be slaughter’d in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country’s cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge:
Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Titus Andronicus
Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark’d, and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
Lucius
Away with him! and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let’s hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.
Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with Alarbus
Tamora
O cruel, irreligious piety!
Chiron
Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
Demetrius
Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
To tremble under Titus’ threatening looks.
Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal
The self-same gods that arm’d the Queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths —
When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen —
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius and Mutius, with their swords bloody
Lucius
See, lord and father, how we have perform’d
Our Roman rites: Alarbus’ limbs are lopp’d,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud ’larums welcome them to Rome.
Titus Andronicus
Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome’s readiest champions, repose you here in rest,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
Enter Lavinia
Lavinia
In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
I render, for my brethren’s obsequies;
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome’s best citizens applaud!
Titus Andronicus
Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father’s days,
And fame’s eternal date, for virtue’s praise!
Enter, below, Marcus Andronicus and Tribunes; re-enter Saturninus and Bassianus, attended
Marcus Andronicus
Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Titus Andronicus
Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
Marcus Andronicus
And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country’s service drew your swords:
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath aspired to Solon’s happiness
And triumphs over chance in honour’s bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue;
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late-deceased emperor’s sons:
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.
Titus Andronicus
A better head her glorious body fits
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country’s strength successfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world:
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
Marcus Andronicus
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
Saturninus
Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
Titus Andronicus
Patience, Prince Saturninus.
Saturninus
Romans, do me right:
Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not
Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor.
Andronicus, would thou wert shipp’d to hell,
Rather than rob me of the people’s hearts!
Lucius
Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!
Titus Andronicus
Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
The people’s hearts, and wean them from themselves.
Bassianus
Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do till I die:
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
I will most thankful be; and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.
Titus Andronicus
People of Rome, and people’s tribunes here,
I ask your voices and your suffrages:
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Tribunes
To gratify the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.
Titus Andronicus
Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make,
That you create your emperor’s eldest son,
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome as Titan’s rays on earth,
And ripen justice in this commonweal:
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him and say ‘Long live our emperor!’
Marcus Andronicus
With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor,
And say ‘Long live our Emperor Saturnine!’
A long flourish till they come down
Saturninus
Titus Andronicus, for thy favors done
To us in our election this day,
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my empress,
Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
Titus Andronicus
It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
I hold me highly honour’d of your grace:
And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine,
King and commander of our commonweal,
The wide world’s emperor, do I consecrate
My sword, my chariot and my prisoners;
Presents well worthy Rome’s imperial lord:
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet.
Saturninus
Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts
Rome shall record, and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.
Titus Andronicus
[To Tamora] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor;
To him that, for your honour and your state,
Will use you nobly and your followers.
Saturninus
A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue
That I would choose, were I to choose anew.
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Rest on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you
Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.
Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?
Lavinia
Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
Saturninus
Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go;
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
Flourish. Saturninus courts Tamora in dumb show
Bassianus
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
Seizing Lavinia
Titus Andronicus
How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?
Bassianus
Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal
To do myself this reason and this right.
Marcus Andronicus
‘suum cuique’ is our Roman justice:
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
Lucius
And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
Titus Andronicus
Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor’s guard?
Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised!
Saturninus
Surprised! by whom?
Bassianus
By him that justly may
Bear his betroth’d from all the world away.
Exeunt Bassianus and Marcus with Lavinia
Mutius
Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my sword I’ll keep this door safe.
Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and Martius
Titus Andronicus
Follow, my lord, and I’ll soon bring her back.
Mutius
My lord, you pass not here.
Titus Andronicus
What, villain boy!
Barr’st me my way in Rome?
Stabbing Mutius
Mutius
Help, Lucius, help!
Dies
During the fray, Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron and Aaron go out and re-enter, above
Re-enter Lucius
Lucius
My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
Titus Andronicus
Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine;
My sons would never so dishonour me:
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.
Lucius
Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,
That is another’s lawful promised love.
Exit
Saturninus
No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
I’ll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale,
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That said’st I begg’d the empire at thy hands.
Titus Andronicus
O monstrous! what reproachful words are these?
Saturninus
But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish’d for her with his sword
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
Titus Andronicus
These words are razors to my wounded heart.
Saturninus
And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths,
That like the stately Phoebe ’mongst her nymphs
Dost overshine the gallant’st dames of Rome,
If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee empress of Rome,
Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,
Sith priest and holy water are so near
And tapers burn so bright and every thing
In readiness for Hymenaeus stand,
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
I lead espoused my bride along with me.
Tamora
And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear,
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
She will a handmaid be to his desires,
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
Saturninus
Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany
Your noble emperor and his lovely bride,
Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered:
There shall we consummate our spousal rites.
Exeunt all but Titus
Titus Andronicus
I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonour’d thus, and challenged of wrongs?
Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius
Marcus Andronicus
O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
Titus Andronicus
No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed
That hath dishonour’d all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!
Lucius
But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
Titus Andronicus
Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb:
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified:
Here none but soldiers and Rome’s servitors
Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:
Bury him where you can; he comes not here.
Marcus Andronicus
My lord, this is impiety in you:
My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him
He must be buried with his brethren.
Quintus
Martius
And shall, or him we will accompany.
Titus Andronicus
‘And shall!’ what villain was it that spake that word?
Quintus
He that would vouch it in any place but here.
Titus Andronicus
What, would you bury him in my despite?
Marcus Andronicus
No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
Titus Andronicus
Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest,
And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded:
My foes I do repute you every one;
So, trouble me no more, but get you gone.
Martius
He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
Quintus
Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried.
Marcus and the Sons of Titus kneel
Marcus Andronicus
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—
Quintus
Father, and in that name doth nature speak,—
Titus Andronicus
Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
Marcus Andronicus
Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,—
Lucius
Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—
Marcus Andronicus
Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
His noble nephew here in virtue’s nest,
That died in honour and Lavinia’s cause.
Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous:
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
That slew himself; and wise Laertes’ son
Did graciously plead for his funerals:
Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy
Be barr’d his entrance here.
Titus Andronicus
Rise, Marcus, rise.
The dismall’st day is this that e’er I saw,
To be dishonour’d by my sons in Rome!
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
Mutius is put into the tomb
Lucius
There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.
All
[Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
He lives in fame that died in virtue’s cause.
Marcus Andronicus
My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps,
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?
Titus Andronicus
I know not, Marcus; but I know it is,
Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell:
Is she not then beholding to the man
That brought her for this high good turn so far?
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, Saturninus attended, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron and Aaron; from the other, Bassianus, Lavinia, and others
Saturninus
So, Bassianus, you have play’d your prize:
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride!
Bassianus
And you of yours, my lord! I say no more,
Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave.
Saturninus
Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power,
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.
Bassianus
Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own,
My truth-betrothed love and now my wife?
But let the laws of Rome determine all;
Meanwhile I am possess’d of that is mine.
Saturninus
’Tis good, sir: you are very short with us;
But, if we live, we’ll be as sharp with you.
Bassianus
My lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Answer I must and shall do with my life.
Only thus much I give your grace to know:
By all the duties that I owe to Rome,
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong’d;
That in the rescue of Lavinia
With his own hand did slay his youngest son,
In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath
To be controll’d in that he frankly gave:
Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine,
That hath express’d himself in all his deeds
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
Titus Andronicus
Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds:
’Tis thou and those that have dishonour’d me.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,
How I have loved and honour’d Saturnine!
Tamora
My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak in indifferently for all;
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
Saturninus
What, madam! be dishonour’d openly,
And basely put it up without revenge?
Tamora
Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend
I should be author to dishonour you!
But on mine honour dare I undertake
For good Lord Titus’ innocence in all;
Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs:
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.
Aside to Saturninus
be won at last;
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:
You are but newly planted in your throne;
Lest, then, the people, and patricians too,
Upon a just survey, take Titus’ part,
And so supplant you for ingratitude,
Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,
Yield at entreats; and then let me alone:
I’ll find a day to massacre them all
And raze their faction and their family,
The cruel father and his traitorous sons,
To whom I sued for my dear son’s life,
And make them know what ’tis to let a queen
Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.
Aloud
Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus;
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart
That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.
Saturninus
Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail’d.
Titus Andronicus
I thank your majesty, and her, my lord:
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
Tamora
Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,
A Roman now adopted happily,
And must advise the emperor for his good.
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus;
And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
That I have reconciled your friends and you.
For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass’d
My word and promise to the emperor,
That you will be more mild and tractable.
And fear not lords, and you, Lavinia;
By my advice, all humbled on your knees,
You shall ask pardon of his majesty.
Lucius
We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness,
That what we did was mildly as we might,
Tendering our sister’s honour and our own.
Marcus Andronicus
That, on mine honour, here I do protest.
Saturninus
Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.
Tamora
Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends:
The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back.
Saturninus
Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother’s here,
And at my lovely Tamora’s entreats,
I do remit these young men’s heinous faults: Stand up.
Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
I found a friend, and sure as death I swore
I would not part a bachelor from the priest.
Come, if the emperor’s court can feast two brides,
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends.
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.
Titus Andronicus
To-morrow, an it please your majesty
To hunt the panther and the hart with me,
With horn and hound we’ll give your grace bonjour.
Saturninus
Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too.
Flourish. Exeunt
ACT II
SCENE I. ROME. BEFORE THE PALACE.
Enter Aaron
Aaron
Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top,
Safe out of fortune’s shot; and sits aloft,
Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning flash;
Advanced above pale envy’s threatening reach.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
So Tamora:
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts,
To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long
Hast prisoner held, fetter’d in amorous chains
And faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes
Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,
To wait upon this new-made empress.
To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen,
This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph,
This siren, that will charm Rome’s Saturnine,
And see his shipwreck and his commonweal’s.
Holloa! what storm is this?
Enter Demetrius and Chiron, braving
Demetrius
Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge,
And manners, to intrude where I am graced;
And may, for aught thou know’st, affected be.
Chiron
Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all;
And so in this, to bear me down with braves.
’Tis not the difference of a year or two
Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate:
I am as able and as fit as thou
To serve, and to deserve my mistress’ grace;
And that my sword upon thee shall approve,
And plead my passions for Lavinia’s love.
Aaron
[Aside] Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace.
Demetrius
Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised,
Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side,
Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?
Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath
Till you know better how to handle it.
Chiron
Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
Demetrius
Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?
They draw
Aaron
[Coming forward] Why, how now, lords!
So near the emperor’s palace dare you draw,
And maintain such a quarrel openly?
Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge:
I would not for a million of gold
The cause were known to them it most concerns;
Nor would your noble mother for much more
Be so dishonour’d in the court of Rome.
For shame, put up.
Demetrius
Not I, till I have sheathed
My rapier in his bosom and withal
Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.
Chiron
For that I am prepared and full resolved.
Foul-spoken coward, that thunder’st with thy tongue,
And with thy weapon nothing darest perform!
Aaron
Away, I say!
Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,
This petty brabble will undo us all.
Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous
It is to jet upon a prince’s right?
What, is Lavinia then become so loose,
Or Bassianus so degenerate,
That for her love such quarrels may be broach’d
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware! and should the empress know
This discord’s ground, the music would not please.
Chiron
I care not, I, knew she and all the world:
I love Lavinia more than all the world.
Demetrius
Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice:
Lavinia is thine elder brother’s hope.
Aaron
Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome
How furious and impatient they be,
And cannot brook competitors in love?
I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
By this device.
Chiron
Aaron, a thousand deaths
Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.
Aaron
To achieve her! how?
Demetrius
Why makest thou it so strange?
She is a woman, therefore may be woo’d;
She is a woman, therefore may be won;
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
What, man! more water glideth by the mill
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know:
Though Bassianus be the emperor’s brother.
Better than he have worn Vulcan’s badge.
Aaron
[Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.
Demetrius
Then why should he despair that knows to court it
With words, fair looks and liberality?
What, hast not thou full often struck a doe,
And borne her cleanly by the keeper’s nose?
Aaron
Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so
Would serve your turns.
Chiron
Ay, so the turn were served.
Demetrius
Aaron, thou hast hit it.
Aaron
Would you had hit it too!
Then should not we be tired with this ado.
Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools
To square for this? would it offend you, then
That both should speed?
Chiron
Faith, not me.
Demetrius
Nor me, so I were one.
Aaron
For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar:
’Tis policy and stratagem must do
That you affect; and so must you resolve,
That what you cannot as you would achieve,
You must perforce accomplish as you may.
Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste
Than this Lavinia, Bassianus’ love.
A speedier course than lingering languishment
Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop:
The forest walks are wide and spacious;
And many unfrequented plots there are
Fitted by kind for rape and villany:
Single you thither then this dainty doe,
And strike her home by force, if not by words:
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit
To villany and vengeance consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend;
And she shall file our engines with advice,
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,
But to your wishes’ height advance you both.
The emperor’s court is like the house of Fame,
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears:
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull;
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns;
There serve your lusts, shadow’d from heaven’s eye,
And revel in Lavinia’s treasury.
Chiron
Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice,
Demetrius
Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits.
Per Styga, per manes vehor.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A FOREST NEAR ROME. HORNS AND CRY OF HOUNDS HEARD.
Enter Titus Andronicus, with Hunters, & c., Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius
Titus Andronicus
The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,
The fields are fragrant and the woods are green:
Uncouple here and let us make a bay
And wake the emperor and his lovely bride
And rouse the prince and ring a hunter’s peal,
That all the court may echo with the noise.
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,
To attend the emperor’s person carefully:
I have been troubled in my sleep this night,
But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.
A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia, Demetrius, Chiron, and Attendants
Many good morrows to your majesty;
Madam, to you as many and as good:
I promised your grace a hunter’s peal.
Saturninus
And you have rung it lustily, my lord;
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
Bassianus
Lavinia, how say you?
Lavinia
I say, no;
I have been broad awake two hours and more.
Saturninus
Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have,
And to our sport.
To Tamora
Madam, now shall ye see
Our Roman hunting.
Marcus Andronicus
I have dogs, my lord,
Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
And climb the highest promontory top.
Titus Andronicus
And I have horse will follow where the game
Makes way, and run like swallows o’er the plain.
Demetrius
Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound,
But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.
Exeunt
SCENE III. A LONELY PART OF THE FOREST.
Enter Aaron, with a bag of gold
Aaron
He that had wit would think that I had none,
To bury so much gold under a tree,
And never after to inherit it.
Let him that thinks of me so abjectly
Know that this gold must coin a stratagem,
Which, cunningly effected, will beget
A very excellent piece of villany:
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest
Hides the gold
That have their alms out of the empress’ chest.
Enter Tamora
Tamora
My lovely Aaron, wherefore look’st thou sad,
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chant melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind
And make a chequer’d shadow on the ground:
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise;
And, after conflict such as was supposed
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy’d,
When with a happy storm they were surprised
And curtain’d with a counsel-keeping cave,
We may, each wreathed in the other’s arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
Be unto us as is a nurse’s song
Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
Aaron
Madam, though Venus govern your desires,
Saturn is dominator over mine:
What signifies my deadly-standing eye,
My silence and my cloudy melancholy,
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls
Even as an adder when she doth unroll
To do some fatal execution?
No, madam, these are no venereal signs:
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul,
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,
This is the day of doom for Bassianus:
His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day,
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity
And wash their hands in Bassianus’ blood.
Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee,
And give the king this fatal plotted scroll.
Now question me no more; we are espied;
Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty,
Which dreads not yet their lives’ destruction.
Tamora
Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life!
Aaron
No more, great empress; Bassianus comes:
Be cross with him; and I’ll go fetch thy sons
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe’er they be.
Exit
Enter Bassianus and Lavinia
Bassianus
Who have we here? Rome’s royal empress,
Unfurnish’d of her well-beseeming troop?
Or is it Dian, habited like her,
Who hath abandoned her holy groves
To see the general hunting in this forest?
Tamora
Saucy controller of our private steps!
Had I the power that some say Dian had,
Thy temples should be planted presently
With horns, as was Actaeon’s; and the hounds
Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs,
Unmannerly intruder as thou art!
Lavinia
Under your patience, gentle empress,
’Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning;
And to be doubted that your Moor and you
Are singled forth to try experiments:
Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day!
’Tis pity they should take him for a stag.
Bassianus
Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian
Doth make your honour of his body’s hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable.
Why are you sequester’d from all your train,
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed.
And wander’d hither to an obscure plot,
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor,
If foul desire had not conducted you?
Lavinia
And, being intercepted in your sport,
Great reason that my noble lord be rated
For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence,
And let her joy her raven-colour’d love;
This valley fits the purpose passing well.
Bassianus
The king my brother shall have note of this.
Lavinia
Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:
Good king, to be so mightily abused!
Tamora
Why have I patience to endure all this?
Enter Demetrius and Chiron
Demetrius
How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother!
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
Tamora
Have I not reason, think you, to look pale?
These two have ’ticed me hither to this place:
A barren detested vale, you see it is;
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O’ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe:
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven:
And when they show’d me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries
As any mortal body hearing it
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
No sooner had they told this hellish tale,
But straight they told me they would bind me here
Unto the body of a dismal yew,
And leave me to this miserable death:
And then they call’d me foul adulteress,
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms
That ever ear did hear to such effect:
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,
This vengeance on me had they executed.
Revenge it, as you love your mother’s life,
Or be ye not henceforth call’d my children.
Demetrius
This is a witness that I am thy son.
Stabs Bassianus
Chiron
And this for me, struck home to show my strength.
Also stabs Bassianus, who dies
Lavinia
Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora,
For no name fits thy nature but thy own!
Tamora
Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys
Your mother’s hand shall right your mother’s wrong.
Demetrius
Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her;
First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw:
This minion stood upon her chastity,
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,
And with that painted hope braves your mightiness:
And shall she carry this unto her grave?
Chiron
An if she do, I would I were an eunuch.
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
Tamora
But when ye have the honey ye desire,
Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.
Chiron
I warrant you, madam, we wil l make that sure.
Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy
That nice-preserved honesty of yours.
Lavinia
O Tamora! thou bear’st a woman’s face,—
Tamora
I will not hear her speak; away with her!
Lavinia
Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.
Demetrius
Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory
To see her tears; but be your heart to them
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.
Lavinia
When did the tiger’s young ones teach the dam?
O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee;
The milk thou suck’dst from her did turn to marble;
Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike:
To Chiron
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.
Chiron
What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?
Lavinia
’Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark:
Yet have I heard,— O, could I find it now!—
The lion moved with pity did endure
To have his princely paws pared all away:
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!
Tamora
I know not what it means; away with her!
Lavinia
O, let me teach thee! for my father’s sake,
That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.
Tamora
Hadst thou in person ne’er offended me,
Even for his sake am I pitiless.
Remember, boys, I pour’d forth tears in vain,
To save your brother from the sacrifice;
But fierce Andronicus would not relent;
Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will,
The worse to her, the better loved of me.
Lavinia
O Tamora, be call’d a gentle queen,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place!
For ’tis not life that I have begg’d so long;
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.
Tamora
What begg’st thou, then? fond woman, let me go.
Lavinia
’Tis present death I beg; and one thing more
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
Where never man’s eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Tamora
So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Demetrius
Away! for thou hast stay’d us here too long.
Lavinia
No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!
The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall —
Chiron
Nay, then I’ll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband:
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
Demetrius throws the body of Bassianus into the pit; then exeunt Demetrius and Chiron, dragging off Lavinia
Tamora
Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure.
Ne’er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow’r.
Exit
Re-enter Aaron, with Quintus and Martius
Aaron
Come on, my lords, the better foot before:
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
Where I espied the panther fast asleep.
Quintus
My sight is very dull, whate’er it bodes.
Martius
And mine, I promise you; were’t not for shame,
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
Falls into the pit
Quintus
What art thou fall’n? What subtle hole is this,
Whose mouth is cover’d with rude-growing briers,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
As fresh as morning dew distill’d on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Martius
O brother, with the dismall’st object hurt
That ever eye with sight made heart lament!
Aaron
[Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here,
That he thereby may give a likely guess
How these were they that made away his brother.
Exit
Martius
Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole?
Quintus
I am surprised with an uncouth fear;
A chilling sweat o’er-runs my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
Martius
To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Quintus
Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise;
O, tell me how it is; for ne’er till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
Martius
Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter’d lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
Quintus
If it be dark, how dost thou know ’tis he?
Martius
Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus
When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.
O brother, help me with thy fainting hand —
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath —
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus’ misty mouth.
Quintus
Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck’d into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus’ grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Martius
Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.
Quintus
Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,
Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.
Falls in
Enter Saturninus with Aaron
Saturninus
Along with me: I’ll see what hole is here,
And what he is that now is leap’d into it.
Say who art thou that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
Martius
The unhappy son of old Andronicus:
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.
Saturninus
My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest:
He and his lady both are at the lodge
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;
’Tis not an hour since I left him there.
Martius
We know not where you left him all alive;
But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.
Re-enter Tamora, with Attendants; Titus Andronicus, and Lucius
Tamora
Where is my lord the king?
Saturninus
Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief.
Tamora
Where is thy brother Bassianus?
Saturninus
Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound:
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
Tamora
Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
The complot of this timeless tragedy;
And wonder greatly that man’s face can fold
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
She giveth Saturninus a letter
Saturninus
[Reads] ‘An if we miss to meet him handsomely —
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus ’tis we mean —
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him:
Thou know’st our meaning. Look for thy reward
Among the nettles at the elder-tree
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.’
O Tamora! was ever heard the like?
This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out
That should have murdered Bassianus here.
Aaron
My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
Saturninus
[To Titus] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind,
Have here bereft my brother of his life.
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:
There let them bide until we have devised
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
Tamora
What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing!
How easily murder is discovered!
Titus Andronicus
High emperor, upon my feeble knee
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,
Accursed if the fault be proved in them,—
Saturninus
If it be proved! you see it is apparent.
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
Tamora
Andronicus himself did take it up.
Titus Andronicus
I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail;
For, by my father’s reverend tomb, I vow
They shall be ready at your highness’ will
To answer their suspicion with their lives.
Saturninus
Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me.
Some bring the murder’d body, some the murderers:
Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain;
For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,
That end upon them should be executed.
Tamora
Andronicus, I will entreat the king;
Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough.
Titus Andronicus
Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FOREST.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron with Lavinia, ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out
Demetrius
So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
Who ’twas that cut thy tongue and ravish’d thee.
Chiron
Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,
An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.
Demetrius
See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
Chiron
Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.
Demetrius
She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash;
And so let’s leave her to her silent walks.
Chiron
An ’twere my case, I should go hang myself.
Demetrius
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron
Enter Marcus
Marcus
Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!
Cousin, a word; where is your husband?
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!
If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp’d and hew’d and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
And might not gain so great a happiness
As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr’d with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,
And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame!
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan’s face
Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say ’tis so?
O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
That I might rail at him, to ease my mind!
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp’d,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew’d her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew’d than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch’d them for his life!
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp’d his knife, and fell asleep
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet’s feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
For such a sight will blind a father’s eye:
One hour’s storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father’s eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee
O, could our mourning ease thy misery!
Exeunt
ACT III
SCENE I. ROME. A STREET.
Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with Martius and Quintus, bound, passing on to the place of execution; Titus going before, pleading
Titus Andronicus
Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome’s great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch’d;
And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as ’tis thought.
For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour’s lofty bed.
Lieth down; the Judges, & c., pass by him, and Exeunt
For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears:
Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite;
My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still;
In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.
Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn
O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men!
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.
Lucius
O noble father, you lament in vain:
The tribunes hear you not; no man is by;
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Titus Andronicus
Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,—
Lucius
My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
Titus Andronicus
Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear,
They would not mark me, or if they did mark,
They would not pity me, yet plead I must;
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale:
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is soft as wax,— tribunes more hard than stones;
A stone is silent, and offendeth not,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
Rises
But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?
Lucius
To rescue my two brothers from their death:
For which attempt the judges have pronounced
My everlasting doom of banishment.
Titus Andronicus
O happy man! they have befriended thee.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey
But me and mine: how happy art thou, then,
From these devourers to be banished!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter Marcus and Lavinia
Marcus Andronicus
Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break:
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
Titus Andronicus
Will it consume me? let me see it, then.
Marcus Andronicus
This was thy daughter.
Titus Andronicus
Why, Marcus, so she is.
Lucius
Ay me, this object kills me!
Titus Andronicus
Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.
Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea,
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou camest,
And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.
Give me a sword, I’ll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have served me to effectless use:
Now all the service I require of them
Is that the one will help to cut the other.
’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
Lucius
Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr’d thee?
Marcus Andronicus
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts
That blabb’d them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Lucius
O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?
Marcus Andronicus
O, thus I found her, straying in the park,
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
That hath received some unrecuring wound.
Titus Andronicus
It was my deer; and he that wounded her
Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:
For now I stand as one upon a rock
Environed with a wilderness of sea,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
Here stands my other son, a banished man,
And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
It would have madded me: what shall I do
Now I behold thy lively body so?
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr’d thee:
Thy husband he is dead: and for his death
Thy brothers are condemn’d, and dead by this.
Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather’d lily almost wither’d.
Marcus Andronicus
Perchance she weeps because they kill’d her husband;
Perchance because she knows them innocent.
Titus Andronicus
If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful
Because the law hath ta’en revenge on them.
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips.
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain,
Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks
How they are stain’d, as meadows, yet not dry,
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some deuce of further misery,
To make us wonder’d at in time to come.
Lucius
Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief,
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
Marcus Andronicus
Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
Titus Andronicus
Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,
For thou, poor man, hast drown’d it with thine own.
Lucius
Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
Titus Andronicus
Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
That to her brother which I said to thee:
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
O, what a sympathy of woe is this,
As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!
Enter Aaron
Aaron
Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
Sends thee this word,— that, if thou love thy sons,
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
Or any one of you, chop off your hand,
And send it to the king: he for the same
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;
And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
Titus Andronicus
O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron!
Did ever raven sing so like a lark,
That gives sweet tidings of the sun’s uprise?
With all my heart, I’ll send the emperor My hand:
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
Lucius
Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine,
That hath thrown down so many enemies,
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
My youth can better spare my blood than you;
And therefore mine shall save my brothers’ lives.
Marcus Andronicus
Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
And rear’d aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle?
O, none of both but are of high desert:
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
To ransom my two nephews from their death;
Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
Aaron
Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,
For fear they die before their pardon come.
Marcus Andronicus
My hand shall go.
Lucius
By heaven, it shall not go!
Titus Andronicus
Sirs, strive no more: such wither’d herbs as these
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Lucius
Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
Marcus Andronicus
And, for our father’s sake and mother’s care,
Now let me show a brother’s love to thee.
Titus Andronicus
Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
Lucius
Then I’ll go fetch an axe.
Marcus Andronicus
But I will use the axe.
Exeunt Lucius and Marcus
Titus Andronicus
Come hither, Aaron; I’ll deceive them both:
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
Aaron
[Aside] If that be call’d deceit, I will be honest,
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:
But I’ll deceive you in another sort,
And that you’ll say, ere half an hour pass.
Cuts off Titus’s hand
Re-enter Lucius and Marcus
Titus Andronicus
Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch’d.
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
Tell him it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it
More hath it merited; that let it have.
As for my sons, say I account of them
As jewels purchased at an easy price;
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aaron
I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.
Aside
Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace.
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
Exit
Titus Andronicus
O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
If any power pities wretched tears,
To that I call!
To Lavinia
What, wilt thou kneel with me?
Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;
Or with our sighs we’ll breathe the welkin dim,
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
Marcus Andronicus
O brother, speak with possibilities,
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Titus Andronicus
Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my passions bottomless with them.
Marcus Andronicus
But yet let reason govern thy lament.
Titus Andronicus
If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes:
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o’erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflow’d and drown’d;
For why my bowels cannot hide her woes,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand
Messenger
Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid
For that good hand thou sent’st the emperor.
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;
And here’s thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock’d;
That woe is me to think upon thy woes
More than remembrance of my father’s death.
Exit
Marcus Andronicus
Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily,
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
These miseries are more than may be borne.
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;
But sorrow flouted at is double death.
Lucius
Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound,
And yet detested life not shrink thereat!
That ever death should let life bear his name,
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!
Lavinia kisses Titus
Marcus Andronicus
Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
As frozen water to a starved snake.
Titus Andronicus
When will this fearful slumber have an end?
Marcus Andronicus
Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons’ heads,
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:
Thy other banish’d son, with this dear sight
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,
Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:
Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
The closing up of our most wretched eyes;
Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?
Titus Andronicus
Ha, ha, ha!
Marcus Andronicus
Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
Titus Andronicus
Why, I have not another tear to shed:
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,
And would usurp upon my watery eyes
And make them blind with tributary tears:
Then which way shall I find Revenge’s cave?
For these two heads do seem to speak to me,
And threat me I shall never come to bliss
Till all these mischiefs be return’d again
Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.
You heavy people, circle me about,
That I may turn me to each one of you,
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head;
And in this hand the other I will bear.
Lavinia, thou shalt be employ’d: these arms!
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:
And, if you love me, as I think you do,
Let’s kiss and part, for we have much to do.
Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia
Lucius
Farewell Andronicus, my noble father,
The wofull’st man that ever lived in Rome:
Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life:
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been!
But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives
But in oblivion and hateful griefs.
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
And make proud Saturnine and his empress
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.
Exit
SCENE II. A ROOM IN TITUS’S HOUSE. A BANQUET SET OUT.
Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia and Young Lucius, a boy
Titus Andronicus
So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more
Than will preserve just so much strength in us
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.
To Lavinia
Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;
Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
May run into that sink, and soaking in
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
Marcus Andronicus
Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
Such violent hands upon her tender life.
Titus Andronicus
How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?
Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;
To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice o’er,
How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?
O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
Lest we remember still that we have none.
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,
As if we should forget we had no hands,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands!
Come, let’s fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:
Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;
I can interpret all her martyr’d signs;
She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew’d with her sorrow, mesh’d upon her cheeks:
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect
As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I of these will wrest an alphabet
And by still practise learn to know thy meaning.
Young Lucius
Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
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.—
There’s for thyself, and that’s for Tamora.
Ah, sirrah!
Yet, I think, we are not brought so low,
But that between us we can kill a fly
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
Marcus Andronicus
Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances.
Titus Andronicus
Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me:
I’ll to thy closet; and go read with thee
Sad stories chanced in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,
And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.
Exeunt
ACT IV
SCENE I. ROME. TITUS’S GARDEN.
Enter young Lucius, and Lavinia running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter Titus and Marcus
Young Lucius
Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia
Follows me every where, I know not why:
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
Marcus Andronicus
Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.
Titus Andronicus
She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Young Lucius
Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.
Marcus Andronicus
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
Titus Andronicus
Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean:
See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:
Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully’s Orator.
Marcus Andronicus
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
Young Lucius
My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e’er my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly —
Causeless, perhaps.
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