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CAPTAIN: Romans, make way: the good Andronicus.Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,Successful in the battles that he fights,With honour and with fortune is return'd From where he circumscribed with his sword,And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.


Drums and trumpets sounded. 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

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.

I give him you, the noblest that survives,The eldest son of this distressed queen.

TAMORA: ...Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge: Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.

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: See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopped, 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.

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!

LAVINIA: ...O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud!

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!

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: ...Be candidatus then, and put it on,And help to set a head on headless Rome.

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.

SATURNINUS: Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?

Patience, Prince Saturninus.

LUCIUS: Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee!

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.

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.

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!'

SATURNINUS: ...Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?

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.

[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.

BASSIANUS: Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. Seizing LAVINIA

How, sir! Are you in earnest then, my lord?

LUCIUS: And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.

Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard?Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised!

MUTIUS: Brothers, help to convey her hence away,And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS

Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back.

MUTIUS: My lord, you pass not here.

What, villain boy! Barr'st me my way in Rome?Stabbing MUTIUS

LUCIUS: My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so,In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.

Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine;My sons would never so dishonour me:Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.

SATURNINUS:...Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

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.

These words are razors to my wounded heart.

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

I am not bid to wait upon this bride.Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

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.

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.

QUINTUS: And shall, or him we will accompany.

'And shall!' what villain was it that spake that word?

QUINTUS: He that would vouch it in any place but here.

What, would you bury him in my despite?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: No, noble Titus, but entreat of theeTo pardon Mutius and to bury him.

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.

QUINTUS: Father, and in that name doth nature speak,--

Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS:...Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy Be barr'd his entrance here.

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.

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?

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.

BASSIANUS: Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine,That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome.

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!

SATURNINUS: Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd.

I thank your majesty, and her, my lord: These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.

SATURNINUS:...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.

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.

TAMORA: What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered!

High emperor, upon my feeble kneeI beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed if the fault be proved in them,--

TAMORA: Andronicus himself did take it up.

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.

TAMORA: Andronicus, I will entreat the king; Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough.

Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.

MARCUS: Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee O, could our mourning ease thy misery!


Exeunt. ACT III SCENE I.

GOOGLE IT, ITS LONG. WILL POST LINK LATER

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.

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.

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.


RISE


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.

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?

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.

Will it consume me? Let me see it, then.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: This was thy daughter.

Why, Marcus, so she is.

LUCIUS: Ay me, this object kills me!

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.

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.

http://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/play_view.php?WorkID=titus&Act=3&Scene=1&Scope=scene&LineHighlight=1221#1221

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance because she knows them innocent.

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.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.

Ah, Marcus, Marcus! Brother, well I wotThy 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.

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!

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.

O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! Did ever a 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: By heaven, it shall not go!

Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: And, for our father's sake and mother's care,Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

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

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

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: ...Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace.Aaron will have his soul black like his face.Exit

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.

Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: But yet let reason govern thy lament.

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.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake.

When will this fearful slumber have an end?

The closing up of our most wretched eyes;Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?

LAUGHS

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour.

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.

LUCIUS:Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.


ACT 3 SCENE 2

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 mineIs 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 fallMay 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.

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.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.

She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean: See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: Some whither 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: Lucius, I will.


LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which LUCIUS has let fall

How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this?Some book there is that she desires to see.Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd. Come, and take choice of all my library,And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.


Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: I think she means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: For love of her that's gone,Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.

Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!


Helping her What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel,And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape:And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves.

Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt--O, had we never, never hunted there!--Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,By nature made for murders and for rapes.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: O, why should nature build so foul a den,Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends,What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,That we may know the traitors and the truth! She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes.

O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.'

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

Magni Dominator poli,Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?


[The great ruler of the pole,So calmly hear crimes? so tough to see?]

MARCUS ANDRONICUS:...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: The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,She's with the lion deeply still in league,And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,And when he sleeps will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,And with a gad of steel will write these words,And lay it by: the angry northern wind Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad,And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you?

YOUNG LUCIUS: And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

Come, go with me into mine armoury; Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy,Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

YOUNG LUCIUS: Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.

No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course.Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court:Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on.

AARON:...And cabin in a cave, and bring you up To be a warrior, and command a camp.


ACT 3 SCENE 3

Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way.Sir boy, now let me see your archery;Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.Terras Astraea reliquit:Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets; Happily you may catch her in the sea;Yet there's as little justice as at land:No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:Then, when you come to Pluto's region,I pray you, deliver him this petition;Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,And that it comes from old Andronicus,Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable What time I threw the people's suffrages On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd:This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence;And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

Publius, how now! how now, my masters! What, have you met with her?

PUBLIUS: No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall :Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd,He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.I'll dive into the burning lake below,And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size;But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell,We will solicit heaven and move the gods To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;


He gives them the arrows


'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:''Ad Martem,' that's for myself:Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;You were as good to shoot against the wind.To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.Of my word, I have written to effect; There's not a god left unsolicited.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

Now, masters, draw.


They shoot.


O, well said, Lucius! Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

Ha, ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court;And who should find them but the empress' villain? She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose But give them to his master for a present.

Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy!


Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it


News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

CLOWN: O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

CLOWN: Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.

Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

CLOWN: Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons tothe emperor from you.

Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?

CLOWN: Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

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.Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a gracedeliver a supplication?

CLOWN: Ay, sir.

Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel,then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.

CLOWN: I warrant you, sir, let me alone.

Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it.Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.And when thou hast given it the emperor,Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

CLOWN: God be with you, sir; I will.

Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.


Exeunt

TAMORA: Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment,I will encounter with Andronicus,And say I am Revenge, sent from below To join with him and right his heinous wrongs.Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps,To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge;Tell him Revenge is come to join with him,And work confusion on his enemies.

Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door,That so my sad decrees may fly away,And all my study be to no effect? You are deceived: for what I mean to do See here in bloody lines I have set down;And what is written shall be executed.

TAMORA: Titus, I am come to talk with thee.

No, not a word; how can I grace my talk,Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more.

TAMORA: If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me.

I am not mad; I know thee well enough:Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines;Witness these trenches made by grief and care,Witness the tiring day and heavy night;Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora:Is not thy coming for my other hand?

TAMORA: Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora; She is thy enemy, and I thy friend:I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom,To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind,By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.Come down, and welcome me to this world's light;Confer with me of murder and of death:There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place,No vast obscurity or misty vale,Where bloody murder or detested rape Can couch for fear, but I will find them out;And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.

Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me,To be a torment to mine enemies?

TAMORA: I am; therefore come down, and welcome me.

Do me some service, ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands;Now give me some surance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels;And then I'll come and be thy waggoner,And whirl along with thee about the globe.Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet,To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away,And find out murderers in their guilty caves:And when thy car is loaden with their heads,I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel Trot, like a servile footman, all day long,Even from Hyperion's rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea:And day by day I'll do this heavy task,So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.

TAMORA: These are my ministers, and come with me.

Are these thy ministers? what are they call'd?

TAMORA: Rapine and Murder; therefore called so,Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.

Good Lord, how like the empress' sons they are! And you, the empress! but we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee;And, if one arm's embracement will content thee,I will embrace thee in it by and by.

TAMORA: This closing with him fits his lunacyWhate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches,For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;And, being credulous in this mad thought,I'll make him send for Lucius his son;And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,I'll find some cunning practise out of hand,To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths,Or, at the least, make them his enemies.See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.

Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house:Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too.How like the empress and her sons you are!Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor:Could not all hell afford you such a devil?For well I wot the empress never wags But in her company there is a Moor;And, would you represent our queen aright,It were convenient you had such a devil: But welcome, as you are. What shall we do?

TAMORA: Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong,And I will be revenged on them all.

Look round about the wicked streets of Rome;And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself.Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer.Go thou with him; and when it is thy hapTo find another that is like to thee,Good Rapine, stab him; he's a ravisher.Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court There is a queen, attended by a Moor;Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion,for up and down she doth resemble thee: I pray thee, do on them some violent death;They have been violent to me and mine.

TAMORA: Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus,To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son,Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths,And bid him come and banquet at thy house;When he is here, even at thy solemn feast,I will bring in the empress and her sons,The emperor himself and all thy foes;And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel,And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.What says Andronicus to this device?

Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls.


Enter MARCUS Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths:Bid him repair to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:Tell him the emperor and the empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them.This do thou for my love; and so let him,As he regards his aged father's life.

TAMORA: Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me.

Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me;Or else I'll call my brother back again,And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.

TAMORA: [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? will you bide with him,Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor How I have govern'd our determined jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,And tarry with him till I turn again.

[Aside] I know them all, though they suppose me mad,And will o'erreach them in their own devices:A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam!

TAMORA: Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes.

I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell.

CHIRON: Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd?

Tut, I have work enough for you to do.Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine!

PUBLIUS: What is your will?

Know you these two?

PUBLIUS: The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius.

Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived;The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name;And therefore bind them, gentle Publius.Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them.Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,And now I find it; therefore bind them sure,And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.


Exit. PUBLIUS, & c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS

PUBLIUS: And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word.Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast.Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife, and she a basin

COME, COME LAVINIA MONOLOGUE

MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;These quarrels must be quietly debated.The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.


SATURNINUS: Marcus, we will. Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled, Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes on the table

Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen;Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius;And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor,'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.

SATURNINUS: Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus?

Because I would be sure to have all well,To entertain your highness and your empress.

TAMORA: We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.

An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this:Was it well done of rash Virginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand,Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd?

SATURNINUS: It was, Andronicus.

Your reason, mighty lord?

SATURNINUS: Because the girl should not survive her shame,And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

A reason mighty, strong, and effectual;A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant,For me, most wretched, to perform the like.Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;


Kills LAVINIA


And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die!

SATURNINUS: What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?

Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was,And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage: and it now is done.

SATURNINUS: What, was she ravish'd? Tell who did the deed.

Will't please you eat? will't please your highness feed?

TAMORA: Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius:They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue;And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

SATURNINUS: Go fetch them hither to us presently.

Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point.


Kills TAMORA