THE TRAGEDY OF
TITUS ANDRONICUS
by William Shakespeare
Contents
ACT I
Scene I. Rome. Before the Capitol
ACT II
Scene I. Rome. Before the palace
Scene II. A Forest near Rome; a Lodge seen at a distance. Horns and cry of hounds heard
Scene III. A lonely part of the Forest
Scene IV. Another part of the Forest
ACT III
Scene I. Rome. A street
Scene II. Rome. A Room in Titus’s House. A banquet set out
ACT IV
Scene I. Rome. Before Titus’s House
Scene II. Rome. A Room in the Palace
Scene III. Rome. A public Place
Scene IV. Rome. Before the Palace
ACT V
Scene I. Plains near Rome
Scene II. Rome. Before Titus’s House
Scene III. Rome. A Pavilion in Titus’s Gardens, with tables, &c.
Dramatis Personæ
SATURNINUS, elder son to the late Emperor of Rome, afterwards Emperor
BASSIANUS, brother to Saturninus
TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman, General against the Goths
MARCUS ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People, and brother to Titus
LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus
LUCIUS, son to Titus Andronicus
QUINTUS, son to Titus Andronicus
MARTIUS, son to Titus Andronicus
MUTIUS, son to Titus Andronicus
YOUNG LUCIUS, a boy, son to Lucius
PUBLIUS, son to Marcus the Tribune
SEMPRONIUS, kinsman to Titus
CAIUS, kinsman to Titus
VALENTINE, kinsman to Titus
AEMILIUS, a noble Roman
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths
AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora
ALARBUS, son to Tamora
DEMETRIUS, son to Tamora
CHIRON, son to Tamora
A CAPTAIN
MESSENGER
A NURSE, and a black child
CLOWN
Goths and Romans
Tribunes, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants
SCENE: Rome, and the Country near it
ACT I
SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol
Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft. And then enter Saturninus and
his followers at one door, and Bassianus and his followers at the
other, with drums and trumpets.
SATURNINUS.
Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords.
I am his firstborn son that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father’s honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
BASSIANUS.
Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right,
If ever Bassianus, Caesar’s son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol,
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility;
But let desert in pure election shine,
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, holding the crown.
MARCUS.
Princes, that strive by factions and by friends
Ambitiously for rule and empery,
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party, have by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius
For many good and great deserts to Rome.
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls.
He by the senate is accited home
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yoked a nation strong, trained up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies’ pride. Five times he hath returned
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field.
And now at last, laden with honour’s spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat, by honour of his name
Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate’s right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
That you withdraw you and abate your strength,
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
SATURNINUS.
How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
BASSIANUS.
Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome’s rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people’s favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weighed.
[_Exeunt the followers of Bassianus._]
SATURNINUS.
Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,
I thank you all and here dismiss you all,
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.
[_Exeunt the followers of Saturninus._]
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me
As I am confident and kind to thee.
Open the gates and let me in.
BASSIANUS.
Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[_Flourish. They go up into the Senate House._]
Enter a Captain.
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 returned
From where he circumscribed with his sword
And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome.
Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter two of Titus’ sons, and then
two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then two other sons; then
Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, the Queen of Goths and her sons
Alarbus, Chiron and Demetrius with Aaron the Moor, and others as many
as can be, then set down the coffin, and Titus speaks.
TITUS.
Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her fraught
Returns with precious lading to the bay
From whence at first she weighed her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To resalute 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.
[_They open the tomb._]
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 hast thou of mine 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 disturbed with prodigies on earth.
TITUS.
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 slaughtered 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.
Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren whom your Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice.
To this your son is marked, and die he must,
T’ 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 Titus’ sons with Alarbus._]
TAMORA.
O cruel, irreligious piety!
CHIRON.
Was never Scythia half so barbarous!
DEMETRIUS.
Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus’ threat’ning look.
Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal
The self-same gods that armed the Queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen)
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Enter the sons of Andronicus again with bloody swords.
LUCIUS.
See, lord and father, how we have performed
Our Roman rites. Alarbus’ limbs are lopped,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth naught but to inter our brethren,
And with loud ’larums welcome them to Rome.
TITUS.
Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[_Sound trumpets, and lay the coffin 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 drugs; 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 this earth for thy return to Rome.
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome’s best citizens applaud.
TITUS.
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 Marcus Andronicus and Tribunes; re-enter Saturninus, Bassianus
and others.
MARCUS.
Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome.
TITUS.
Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
MARCUS.
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.
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 today,
Tomorrow 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.
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
SATURNINUS.
Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
TITUS.
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 were shipped 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.
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.
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.
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.
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._]
SATURNINUS.
Titus Andronicus, for thy favours 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.
It doth, my worthy lord, and in this match
I hold me highly honoured 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 imperious 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.
[_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 com’st 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 and his Guards exit, with Drums and Trumpets.
Tribunes and Senators exit aloft._]
BASSIANUS.
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
TITUS.
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.
_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.
Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor’s guard?
Enter Saturninus and his Guards.
Treason, my lord, Lavinia is surprised.
SATURNINUS.
Surprised? By whom?
BASSIANUS.
By him that justly may
Bear his betrothed 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.
Follow, my lord, and I’ll soon bring her back.
[_Exeunt Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and Guards._]
MUTIUS.
My lord, you pass not here.
TITUS.
What, villain boy,
Barr’st me my way in Rome?
[_Stabbing Mutius._]
MUTIUS.
Help, Lucius, help!
[_Dies._]
Re-enter Lucius.
LUCIUS.
My lord, you are unjust, and more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
TITUS.
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._]
Enter aloft the Emperor Saturninus with Tamora and her two sons and
Aaron the Moor.
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 none in Rome to make a stale
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine
That said’st I begged the empire at thy hands.
TITUS.
O monstrous! What reproachful words are these?
SATURNINUS.
But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourished 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.
These words are razors to my wounded heart.
SATURNINUS.
And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths,
That like the stately Phœbe ’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 everything
In readiness for Hymenæus 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.
I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonoured thus, and challenged of wrongs?
Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus and Martius.
MARCUS.
O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
TITUS.
No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed
That hath dishonoured all our family.
Unworthy brother and unworthy sons!
LUCIUS.
But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
TITUS.
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.
My lord, this is impiety in you.
My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him;
He must be buried with his brethren.
MARTIUS.
And shall, or him we will accompany.
TITUS.
“And shall”? What villain was it spake that word?
QUINTUS.
He that would vouch it in any place but here.
TITUS.
What, would you bury him in my despite?
MARCUS.
No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
TITUS.
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.
He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
MARTIUS.
Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried.
[_Marcus and the sons of Titus kneel._]
MARCUS.
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—
QUINTUS.
Father, and in that name doth nature speak,—
TITUS.
Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
MARCUS.
Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,—
LUCIUS.
Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—
MARCUS.
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 barred his entrance here.
TITUS.
Rise, Marcus, rise.
The dismall’st day is this that e’er I saw,
To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome!
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
[_They put Mutius in 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.
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.
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. Enter the Emperor Saturninus, Tamora and her two sons, with
Aaron the Moor. Drums and Trumpets, at one door. Enter at the other
door Bassianus and Lavinia with others.
SATURNINUS.
So, Bassianus, you have played 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 true betrothed love, and now my wife?
But let the laws of Rome determine all;
Meanwhile am I possessed 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 wronged,
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 controlled in that he frankly gave.
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine,
That hath expressed himself in all his deeds
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
TITUS.
Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds.
’Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge
How I have loved and honoured Saturnine.
TAMORA.
My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak indifferently for all;
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
SATURNINUS.
What, madam, be dishonoured 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_.] My lord, be ruled by me, 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 prevailed.
TITUS.
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 passed
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,
Tend’ring our sister’s honour and our own.
MARCUS.
That on mine honour here do I 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.
Tomorrow, 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.
[_Sound trumpets. Exeunt all but Aaron._]
ACT II
SCENE I. Rome. Before the palace
Aaron alone.
AARON.
Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top,
Safe out of Fortune’s shot, and sits aloft,
Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning’s flash,
Advanced above pale envy’s threat’ning reach.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistening 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, fett’red 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 shipwrack and his commonweal’s.
Holla! What storm is this?
Enter Chiron and Demetrius braving.
DEMETRIUS.
Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wit wants edge
And manners, to intrude where I am graced,
And may, for aught thou knowest, affected be.
CHIRON.
Demetrius, thou dost overween 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.
Why, how now, lords!
So near the emperor’s palace dare ye 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 dishonoured in the court of Rome.
For shame, put up.
DEMETRIUS.
Not I, till I have sheathed
My rapier in his bosom, and withal
Thrust those 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 thund’rest with thy tongue,
And with thy weapon nothing dar’st perform.
AARON.
Away, I say!
Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,
This pretty 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 broached
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.
Lavina 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 makes thou it so strange?
She is a woman, therefore may be wooed;
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 ling’ring 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 villainy.
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 villainy and vengeance consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all what 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 lust, shadowed 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 Stygia, per manes vehor._
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE II. A Forest near Rome; a Lodge seen at a distance. Horns and cry
of hounds heard
Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sons, and Marcus, making a noise
with hounds and horns.
TITUS.
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.
Here a cry of hounds, and wind horns in a peal. Then enter Saturninus,
Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their 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 lords;
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.
I have dogs, my lord,
Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
And climb the highest promontory top.
TITUS.
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, alone, carrying 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 villainy.
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest
That have their alms out of the empress’ chest.
[_He hides the bag._]
Enter Tamora alone to the Moor.
TAMORA.
My lovely Aaron, wherefore look’st thou sad
When everything doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chant melody on every bush,
The snakes lie rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a chequered 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 wand’ring prince and Dido once enjoyed,
When with a happy storm they were surprised,
And curtained 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 today,
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.
Enter Bassianus and Lavinia.
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._]
BASSIANUS.
Who have we here? Rome’s royal empress,
Unfurnished 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 my 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 today!
’Tis pity they should take him for a stag.
BASSIANUS.
Believe me, queen, your swarthy Cimmerian
Doth make your honour of his body’s hue,
Spotted, detested, and abominable.
Why are you sequestered from all your train,
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed,
And wandered 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-coloured love;
This valley fits the purpose passing well.
BASSIANUS.
The king my brother shall have notice of this.
LAVINIA.
Ay, for these slips have made him noted long.
Good king, to be so mightily abused!
TAMORA.
Why, I have patience to endure all this.
Enter Chiron and Demetrius.
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,
Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe.
Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven.
And when they showed 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 called 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 called 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.
And 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 will make that sure.
Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy
That nice-preserved honesty of yours.
LAVINIA.
O Tamora, thou bearest 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’st 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’s 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 poured 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 called a gentle queen,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place!
For ’tis not life that I have begged 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 stayed 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.
[_They put Bassianus’s body in the pit and exit, carrying 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 deflower.
[_Exit._]
Enter Aaron with two of Titus’ sons, 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 it not for shame,
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
[_He falls into the pit._]
QUINTUS.
What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this,
Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briers,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
As fresh as morning dew distilled 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 have 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 who it is; for ne’er till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
MARTIUS.
Lord Bassianus lies berayed in blood,
All on a heap, like to a slaughtered 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 plucked 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 the Emperor Saturninus and Aaron the Moor.
SATURNINUS.
Along with me! I’ll see what hole is here,
And what he is that now is leapt into it.
Say, who art thou that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
MARTIUS.
The unhappy sons 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 them there.
MARTIUS.
We know not where you left them all alive;
But, out, alas, here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamora, 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 Saturnine 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.
[_Showing it._]
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.
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.
I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail;
For by my fathers’ 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 murdered 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.
Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.
[_Exeunt severally. Attendants bearing the body._]
SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest
Enter the empress’ sons, Demetrius and Chiron with Lavinia, her hands
cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravished.
DEMETRIUS.
So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
Who ’twas that cut thy tongue and ravished 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 cause, I should go hang myself.
DEMETRIUS.
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
[_Exeunt Chiron and Demetrius._]
Enter Marcus, from hunting.
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 an eternal sleep!
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Hath lopped and hewed 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 half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirred 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 stopped,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, why she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sewed 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 sewed 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 touched them for his life.
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropped 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 the Judges and Senators, with Titus’ two sons Quintus and Martius
bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and Titus going
before, pleading.
TITUS.
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 watched,
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.
[_Andronicus lieth down, and the Judges pass by him._]
[_Exeunt with the prisoners as Titus continues speaking._]
For these, tribunes, in the dust I write
My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears.
Let my tears staunch 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 weapon 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.
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.
Why, ’tis no matter, man. If they did hear,
They would not mark me; if they did mark,
They would not pity me, yet plead I must,
And bootless unto them.
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 tribunes 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.
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.
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 with Lavinia.
MARCUS.
Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
Or if not so, thy noble heart to break.
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
TITUS.
Will it consume me? Let me see it then.
MARCUS.
This was thy daughter.
TITUS.
Why, Marcus, so she is.
LUCIUS.
Ay me, this object kills me!
TITUS.
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 cam’st,
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 is but vain.
LUCIUS.
Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyred thee?
MARCUS.
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blabbed 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.
O, thus I found her straying in the park,
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
That hath received some unrecuring wound.
TITUS.
It was my dear, 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 martyred thee.
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
Thy brothers are condemned, 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 gathered lily almost withered.
MARCUS.
Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband;
Perchance because she knows them innocent.
TITUS.
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 stained, like 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 device of further misery,
To make us wondered at in time to come.
LUCIUS.
Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your grief
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
MARCUS.
Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
TITUS.
Ah, Marcus, Marcus! Brother, well I wot
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,
For thou, poor man, hast drowned it with thine own.
LUCIUS.
Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
TITUS.
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 the Moor, alone.
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.
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.
Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
And reared 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.
My hand shall go.
LUCIUS.
By heaven, it shall not go!
TITUS.
Sirs, strive no more. Such withered 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.
And for our father’s sake and mother’s care,
Now let me show a brother’s love to thee.
TITUS.
Agree between you; I will spare my hand.
LUCIUS.
Then I’ll go fetch an axe.
MARCUS.
But I will use the axe.
[_Exeunt Lucius and Marcus._]
TITUS.
Come hither, Aaron; I’ll deceive them both.
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
AARON.
[_Aside_.] If that be called 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.
[_He cuts off Titus’s hand._]
Enter Lucius and Marcus again.
TITUS.
Now stay your strife. What shall be is dispatched.
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 villainy
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.
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, wouldst 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.
O brother, speak with possibility,
And do not break into these deep extremes.
TITUS.
Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my passions bottomless with them.
MARCUS.
But yet let reason govern thy lament.
TITUS.
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-swol’n face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth flow!
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, overflowed and drowned;
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 grief their sports, thy resolution mocked;
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,
More than remembrance of my father’s death.
[_Exit._]
MARCUS.
Now let hot Etna 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.
Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
As frozen water to a starved snake.
TITUS.
When will this fearful slumber have an end?
MARCUS.
Now farewell, flattery; die, Andronicus;
Thou dost not slumber. See thy two sons’ heads,
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here;
Thy other banished 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.
Rent 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.
Ha, ha, ha!
MARCUS.
Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour.
TITUS.
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 returned 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 will I bear.
And, Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in 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 woefull’st man that ever lived in Rome.
Farewell, proud Rome, till Lucius come again;
He loves 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. Rome. A Room in Titus’s House. A banquet set out
Enter Titus Andronicus, Marcus, Lavinia and the boy Young Lucius.
TITUS.
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.
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.
Fie, brother, fie! Teach her not thus to lay
Such violent hands upon her tender life.
TITUS.
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 Æneas 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 frantically 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 martyred signs.
She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brewed with her sorrow, meshed 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 practice learn to know thy meaning.
YOUNG LUCIUS.
Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments.
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
MARCUS.
Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
Doth weep to see his grandsire’s heaviness.
TITUS.
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.
At that that I have killed, my lord, a fly.
TITUS.
Out on thee, murderer! Thou kill’st my heart;
Mine eyes are cloyed 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.
Alas, my lord, I have but killed a fly.
TITUS.
“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 killed him.
MARCUS.
Pardon me, sir; ’twas a black ill-favoured fly,
Like to the empress’ Moor; therefore I killed him.
TITUS.
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.
Alas, poor man, grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances.
TITUS.
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. Before Titus’s House
Enter Young Lucius and Lavinia running after him, and the boy flies
from her with his books under his arm. Enter Titus and Marcus.
YOUNG LUCIUS.
Help, grandsire, help! My aunt Lavinia
Follows me everywhere, I know not why.
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes!
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
MARCUS.
Stand by me, Lucius. Do not fear thine aunt.
TITUS.
She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
YOUNG LUCIUS
Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.
MARCUS.
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
TITUS.
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.
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 for 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. But pardon me, sweet aunt.
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
MARCUS.
Lucius, I will.
[_Lavinia turns over with her stumps the books which Lucius has let
fall._]
TITUS.
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 skilled.
Come and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?
MARCUS.
I think she means that there were more than one
Confederate in the fact. Ay, more there was,
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
TITUS.
Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
YOUNG LUCIUS.
Grandsire, ’tis Ovid’s _Metamorphosis_.
My mother gave it me.
MARCUS.
For love of her that’s gone,
Perhaps, she culled it from among the rest.
TITUS.
Soft! So busily she turns the leaves!
Help 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 thy annoy.
MARCUS.
See, brother, see! Note how she quotes the leaves.
TITUS.
Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,
Ravished and wronged, 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!—
Patterned by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.
MARCUS.
O, why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
TITUS.
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.
Sit down, sweet niece. Brother, sit down by me.
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
My lord, look here. Look here, Lavinia.
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me. I have writ my name
[_He writes his name with his staff and guides it with feet and
mouth._]
Without the help of any hand at all.
Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!
Write thou, good niece, and here display at last
What God will have discovered for revenge.
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?
TITUS.
“_Stuprum_. Chiron. Demetrius.”
MARCUS.
What, what! The lustful sons of Tamora
Performers of this heinous bloody deed?
TITUS.
_Magni Dominator poli,
Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?_
MARCUS.
O, calm thee, gentle lord, although I know
There is enough written upon this earth
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector’s hope;
And swear with me, as, with the woeful fere
And father of that chaste dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece’ rape,
That we will prosecute, by good advice
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
TITUS.
’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 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 our lesson, then? Boy, what say you?
YOUNG LUCIUS.
I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother’s bedchamber should not be safe
For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome.
MARCUS.
Ay, that’s my boy! Thy father hath full oft
For his ungrateful country done the like.
YOUNG LUCIUS.
And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
TITUS.
Come, go with me into mine armoury.
Lucius, I’ll fit thee; and withal, my boy,
Shall carry from me to the empress’ sons
Presents that I intend to send them both.
Come, come; thou’lt do my message, wilt thou not?
YOUNG LUCIUS.
Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.
TITUS.
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.
[_Exeunt Titus, Lavinia and Young Lucius._]
MARCUS.
O heavens, can you hear a good man groan
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
Than foemen’s marks upon his battered shield,
But yet so just that he will not revenge.
Revenge ye heavens for old Andronicus!
[_Exit._]