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Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between | As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
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.
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, [ing.
And, by still practice, learn to know thy mean-
Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep
fa-Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of
The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome!
Farewell, proud Rome! till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been!
But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives,
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs.
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;
And make proud Saturninus and his empress
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit.
SCENE II-A Room in TITUS' House.-
A Banquet set out.
Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and young
LUCIUS, a boy.
Tit. So, so; now sit: and look, you eat no
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
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right hand of
Is left to tyrannise upon my breast;
And 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
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.
Mar. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to
Such violent hands upon her tender life. [lay
Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote
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
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 frantickly 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
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect,
* An allusion to brewing.
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.-
[MARCUS strikes the Dish with a Knife.
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy
Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.
Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my
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.
Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buz lamenting doings in the air?
Poor harmless fly!
That with his pretty buzzing melody,
Came here to make us merry; and thou hast
Mar. Pardon me, Sir; 'twas a black ill-fa-
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd
Tit. 0, 0, 0,
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
Come hither purposely to poison me.-
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor,
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.—
Yet I do 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.
Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :-Somewhat doth | My lord, look here;-Look here, Lavinia :
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me, when I have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.
See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of
Somewhither wouid 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." [thus?
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I
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 [fear;
Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to
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
Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
Mar. Lucius, I will.
[LAVINIA turns over the Books which LUCIUS has let fall. Tit. 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?
Mar. I think, she means, that there was more
Confederate in the fact:-Ay, more there
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis; My mother gave't me.
Mar. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. Tit. Soft! see, how busily she turns the Help her :What would she find?-Lavinia, shall I read? [leaves! This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape; And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. Mar. See, brother, see; note, how she quotest the leaves.
Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet
Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy
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.
Mar. O, why should nature build so foul
Unless the gods delight in tragedies!
Tit. 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?
Mar. Sit down, sweet niece; brother, sit
down by me.-
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
that I may this treason find!—
[He writes his Name with his Staff, and guides it with his Feet and Mouth. Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift!Write thou, good niece; and here display, at [last, What God will have discover'd 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. Tit. O, do you read, my lord, what she hath Stuprum Chiron-Demetrius. [writ? Mar. What, what!-the lustful sons of Ta
Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
Tit. Magne Dominator poli,
Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although,
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
And swear with me,-as with the woful feere,*
And father, of that chaste dishonour'd 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.
Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how,
But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then be-
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you
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're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gadt of steel will write these words,
And lay it by: the angry northern wind
Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves,
And where's your lesson then?-Boy, what say you?
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe Fore these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath
For this ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
Tit. 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 thy message, wilt thou
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstacy;
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Than foe-men's marks upon his batter'd shield:
But yet so just, that he will not revenge :-
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus!
[Exit. SCENE II.-The same.-A Room in the Palace. Enter AARON, CHIRON, and DEMETRIUS, at one Door; at another Door, young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a Bundle of Weapons, and Verses writ upon them.
Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver to us.
Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.
Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I
For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it please you,
My grandsire, well-advis'd, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury,
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;
And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well:
And so I leave you both, Aside.] like bloody
villains. [Exeunt Boy and Attendant.
Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written
Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.
Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it
I read it in the grammar long ago. [well:
Aar. Ay, just!-a verse in Horace:-right,
you have it.-
Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! [Aside. Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;
And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well-a-foot,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.-
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and, more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good, before the Palace gate
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.
Dem. But me more good, to see so great a
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.
Aur. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love.
Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say
Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish
Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
Dem. Soft; who comes here?
Enter a NURSE, with a Black-u-moor Child in
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor.
Aur. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at
Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron now?
Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!
Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine
Nur. O, that which I would hide from hea-
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's dis-
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver❜d.
Aar. To whom?
Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed.
Aar. Well, God
Give her good rest! What hath he sent her?
Aar. Why then she's the devil's dam; a joyful issue.
Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue :
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's
Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base [sure. a hue?Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, Dem. Villain, what hast thou done? Aar. Done! that which thou
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky,
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point,
That touches this my first-born son and heir!
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus,+
With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted
Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted
Coal black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue:
+ A giant, the son of Titan and Terra. Hercules.
For all the water in the ocean
Can never turn a swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
Tell the empress from me, I am of age
To keep mine own; excuse it how she can.
Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress
Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this, my-
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:
This, before all the world, do I prefer;
This maugre all the world, will I keep safe,
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.
Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd.
Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul
Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.t
Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty
Fie, treacherous hue! that will betray with
The close enacts and counsels of the heart!
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer:t
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the
As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own.
He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed
Of that self-blood that first gave life to you;
And, from that womb, where you imprison'd
He is enfranchised and come to light: [were,
Nay, he's your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the em-
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be
And we will all subscribe to thy advice;
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.
Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all con-
My son and I will have the wind of you:
Keep there: Now talk at pleasure of your
safety. [They sit on the Ground.
Dem. How many women saw this child of
Aar. Why, so, brave lords; When we all
join in league,
I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.-
But, say again, how many saw the child?
Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself,
And no one else, but the deliver'd empress.
Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and your.
Two may keep counsel, when the third's away:
Go to the empress; tell her, this I said:-
Weke, weke !--so cries a pig prepar'd to the
Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Where-
fore didst thou this?
Aar. O, lord, Sir, 'tis a deed of policy:
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours?
A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? no, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman,
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;
His child is like to her, fair as you are:
Go packs with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumstance of all;
And how by this their child shall be advanc'd
And be received for the emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
And let the emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords, ye see, that I have given her
physic, [Pointing to the NURSE,
And you must needs bestow her funeral;
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:
This done, see that you take no longer days,
But send the midwife presently to me.
The midwife, and the nurse, well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Chi. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air
Dem. For this care of Tamora, Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee. [Exeunt DEM. and CHI. bearing off the
Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
And secretly to greet the empress' friends.-
Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you
For it is you that puts us to our shifts:
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the
And cabin in a cave; and bring you up
To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit.
SCENE III.-The same.-A Public Place.
Enter TITUS, bearing Arrows, with Letters at
the ends of them; with him MARCUS, young
LUCIUS, and other Gentlemen, with Bows.
Tit. Come, Marcus, come;-Kinsmen, this
is the way:-
Sir boy, now let me see your archery;
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there
Terras Astræa reliquit:
Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's
Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins,
Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
Happily you may find 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
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 miser-
What time I threw the people's suffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannise 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
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us con
By day and night to attend him carefully;
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some careful remedy.
Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters? What,
Have you met with her?
Pub. No, my good lord; but Plutus sends
If you will have revenge from hell, you shall:
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, [else,
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.
Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with de-
I'll dive into the burning lake below, [lays.
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.-
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we;
No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclop's size:
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back;
Yet wrung* with wrongs, more than our backs
And sitht there is 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 Apolli-
Ad Martem, that's for myself;- [nem:-
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:
O' my word, I have written to effect;
There's not a god left unsolicited.
Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] O,
well said, Lucius!
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.
Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done! [horns. See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when
The bull being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the ram's horns in the court; [villain? And who should find them but the empress' She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present. Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your lordship joy.
Enter a CLOWN, with a Basket and two Pigeons. News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?
Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.
Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Clo. Alas, Sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.
Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, Sir; nothing else. Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? Clo. From heaven? alas, Sir, I never came there: God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.
Strained. Since. ↑ Revenge. Dress, furniture. The Clown means to say plebeian tribune, i. e. tribune of the people.
Mar. Why, Sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.
Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?
Clo. Nay, truly, Sir, I could never say grace in all my life.
Tit. Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor: By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold;-mean while, here's money for thy charges. Give me a pen and ink.[tion? Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplicaClo. Ay, Šir.
Tit. 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.
Clo. I warrant you, Sir; let me alone.
Tit. 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 sup pliant:
And when thou hast given it to the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Clo. God be with you, Sir; I will.
Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go :-Publius, follow me. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The same.-Before the Palace. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, LORDS, and others: SATURNINUS with the Arrows in his hand, that TITUS shot.
Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these?
Was ever seen
An emperor of Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus: and, for the extent
Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt?
However these disturbers of our peace
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,
Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath
But even with law, against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress:
This to Apollo; this to the god of war:
See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury;
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this, but libelling against the senate,
And blazoning our injustice every where?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But, if I live, his feigned ecstacies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know, that justice lives
In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep,
He'll so awake, as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.
Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his heart;
And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Than prosecute the meanest, or the best,
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall be-