The Shakespeare Collection (1978) s01e01 Episode Script

Romans, make way! The good Andronicus, patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, successful in the battles that he fights, with honour and with fortune is return'd from where he circumscribed with his sword and brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds.
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her freight, returns with precious lading to the bay from whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, to re-salute his country with his tears, tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol, stand gracious to the rites that we intend.
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons half of the number that King Priam had, behold the poor remains, alive and dead.
These that survive let Rome reward with love.
These that I bring unto their latest home with burial amongst their ancestors.
Here, Goths, have given me leave to sheathe my sword.
Titus, unkind and careless of thine own why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, to hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? Make way to lay them by their brethren.
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? Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, that we may hew his limbs and, on a pile, ad manes fratrum, sacrifice his flesh, before this earthy prison of their bones, that so the shadows be not unappeased, nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.
I give you him, the noblest that survives, the eldest son of this distressed queen.
Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror, victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, a mother's tears in passion for her son.
And, ifthy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, to beautify thy triumphs and return, captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke, but must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, for valiant doings in their country's cause? O! 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.
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 mark'd.
And die he must, to appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
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.
O cruel, irreligious piety.
Was never Scythia half so barbarous? Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest and we survive to tremble under Titus' threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal the self-same gods that arm'd the queen of Troy with opportunity of sharp revenge upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, may favour Tamera, the queen of Goths, when Goths were Goths and Tamera was queen, to quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
See, Lord and Father, how we have perform'd our Roman rites.
Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd and entrails feed the sacrificing fire, whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, and with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.
Let it be so, and let Andronicus make this his latest farewell to their souls.
In peace and honour, rest you here, my sons.
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, secure from worldly chances and mishaps.
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, here grow no damned grudges, here are no storms, no noise, but silence and eternal sleep.
In peace and honour, rest you here, my sons.
IAVINIAl 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.
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.
Succession to Saturninus! Succession to Saturninus! Succession to Saturninus! Succession to Saturninus! Succession! 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 first-born son, that was the last that wear the imperial diadem of Rome.
Then let my father's honours live in me, nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
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.
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 accit'd home from weary wars against the barbarous Goths, that, with his sons, a terror to our foes, hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook this cause for Rome and chastised with arms our enemies' pride.
Five times, he hath return'd bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons in coffins from the field.
And, at this day, to the monument of the Andronici done sacrifice of expiation and slain the noblest prisoner of the Goths.
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.
How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts.
Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally 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 weigh'd.
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.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me as I am confident and kind to thee.
Romans and me, a poor competitor.
Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome.
Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, you that survive and you that sleep in fame.
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 you in election for the empery, with these our late-deceased emperor's sons.
Be candidatus then, and put it on, and help to set a head on headless Rome.
A better head her glorious body fits than his that shakes for age and feebleness.
What, should I don this robe and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations today, tomorrow, yield up rule, resign my life and set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier 40 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.
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
- Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? - Patience, Prince Saturninus.
Romans, do me right.
Patricians, draw your swords and sheathe them not till Saturninus be Rome's emperor.
Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, rather than rob me of the people's hearts.
Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good that noble-minded Titus means to thee.
Content thee, Prince, I will restore the people's hearts to thee and wean them from themselves.
Andronicus! I do not flatterthee, but honourthee and will do till I die.
My faction, if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be and thanks to men of noble minds is honourable meed.
People of Rome and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages.
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? To gratify the good Andronicus and gratulate his safe return to Rome, the people will accept whom he admits.
Tribunes, I thank you and this suit I make.
That you create our 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!" With voices and applause of every son, patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor and say, "Long live our emperor Saturnine!" Long live our emperor Saturnine! Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done to us in our election this day, I give thee thanks, in part ofthy 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? It doth, my worthy lord, and in this match I hold me highly honour'd of your grace.
And here, in sight of Rome to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, the wide world's emperor, do I consecrate my sword, my chariot and my prisoners, presents well worthy Rome's imperious lord.
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet.
Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life.
How proud I am of thee and ofthy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget the least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me.
Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor.
To him that, for your honour and your state, will use you nobly and your followers.
A goodly lady.
Trust me, of the hue that I would choose, were I to choose anew.
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance.
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome.
Princely shall be thy usage every way, rest on my word, and let not discontent daunt all your hopes.
Madam, he comforts you can make you greater than the queen of Goths.
You are not displeased with this, Lavinia? Not I, my lord, sith true nobility warrants these words in princely courtesy.
Thanks, sweet Lavinia.
Romans, let us go! Ransomless here, we set our prisoners free.
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord? Aye, noble Titus.
And resolved withal to do myself this reason and this right.
Suum cuique is our Roman justice.
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard? Treason, my lord.
Lavinia is surprised.
- Surprised? By whom? - By him that justly may bear his betroth'd from all the world away.
Brothers, help convey her hence away and, with my sword, I'll keep this door safe.
- Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back.
- My lord! You pass not here.
What, villain boy, barr'st me my way in Rome? Help, Lucius, help! My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so, in wrongful quarrel, you have slain your son.
Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine.
My sons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.
Dead, if you will, but not to be his wife.
That is another's lawful promised love.
SATURNINUSI No, Titus! No.
The emperor needs her not, nor her, nor thee, nor any ofthy 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 begg'd the empire at thy hands.
O monstrous, what reproachful words are these? Go thy ways, 9°- Give that changing piece to him that flourish'd for her with his sword.
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy, one fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, to ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
These words are razors to my wounded heart.
And therefore, lovely Tamera, queen of Goths, that like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, if thou be pleased with this, my sudden choice, behold, I choose thee, Tamera, 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 Hymenaeus stand, I will not resalute the streets of Rome or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espoused my bride along with me.
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.
Ascend, fair queen, the Pantheon.
Lords, accompany your noble emperor and his lovely bride, sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, whose wisdom hath her fortunes conquered.
There shall we consummate our spousal rites.
I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, dishonour'd thus and challenged of wrongs? O Titus, see, o see what thou hast done, in a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
No, foolish tribune, no.
No son of mine, nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed that hath dishonour'd all our family.
Unworthy brother and unworthy sons.
But let us give him burial, as becomes.
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
Traitors, away.
He rests not in this tomb.
This monument 500 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.
My lord, this is impiety in you.
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him.
He must be buried with his brethren.
And shall or him we will accompany.
And shall? What villain was it spake that word? - He that would vouch it in any place but here.
- What, would you bury him in my despite? No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee to pardon Mutius and to bury him.
Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, and, with these boys, mine honourthou hast wounded.
My foes, I do repute you every one, so, trouble me no more, but get you gone.
He is not with himself.
- Let us withdraw.
- Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead.
Father, and in that name doth nature speak.
Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
Renowned Titus, more than half my soul.
Dear father, soul and substance of us all.
Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter his noble nephew here in virtue's nest, that died in honour and Lavinia's cause.
Thou an a Roman, be not barbarous.
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax that slew himself and wise Laertes' son did graciously plead his funerals.
Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy be barr'd his entrance here.
Rise, Marcus, rise.
The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw.
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome.
Well, bury him and bury me the next.
There tie thy bones, sweet Mutfus, with thy friends, till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.
No man shed tears for noble Mutius.
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, how comes it that the subtle queen of Goths is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? I know not, Marcus.
But I know it is, whether by device or no, the heavens can tell.
Is she not then beholding to the man that brought her for this high good turn so far? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize.
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
And you of yours, my lord.
I say no more, nor wish no less and so, I take my leave.
Traitor! If Rome have law or we have power, thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.
"Rape", call you it, my lord, to seize my own, my truth-betrothed love and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all, meanwhile am I possess'd of that is mine.
'Tis good, sir.
You are very short with us, but, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.
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 honourwrong'd, that in the rescue of Lavinia with his own hand did slay his youngest son, in zeal to you and highly moved to wrath to be controll'd in that he frankly gave.
Receive him, then, to favour, Saturnine, that hath express'd himself in all his deeds a father and a friend to thee and Rome.
Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds.
'Tis thou and these that hath dishonour'd me.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, howl have loved and honour'd Saturnine.
My worthy lord, if ever Tamera were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, then hear me speak indifferently for all and at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
What, madam, be dishonour'd openly and basely put it up without revenge? Not so, my lord.
The gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you, but on mine honour may 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.
My lord, be rul'd 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.
Come, come, sweet emperor.
Come, Andronicus.
Take up this good old man and cheer the heart that dies in tempest ofthy angry frown.
Rise, Titus, rise.
My empress hath prevail'd.
I thank Your Majesty and her, my lord.
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, a Roman now adopted happily and must advise the emperor for his good.
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus, and let it be mine honour, good my lord, that I have reconciled your friends and you.
For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd my word and promise to the emperor, that you will be more mild and tractable and fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia, by my advice, all humbled on your knees, you shall ask pardon of His Majesty.
We do, and vow to heaven and to His Highness, that what we did was mildly as we might, tendering our sister's honour and our own.
That, on mine honour, here do I protest.
Away and talk not.
Trouble us no more.
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.
Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's here and at my lovely Tamera'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, Tamera.
Tomorrow, and it please Your Majesty to hunt the panther and the hart with me, with horn and hound, we'll give Your Grace bonjour.
Be it so, Titus, and gramercy, too.
Now climbeth Tamera Olympus' top, safe out of fortune's shot, and sits aloft, secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash, advanced above pale envy's threatening reach.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn and, having gilt the ocean with his beams, gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach and overlooks the highest-peering hills, so Tamera upon her wit doth earthly honour wait and virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts, to mount aloft with thy imperial mistress and mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains and faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts.
I will be bright and shine in pearl and gold, to wait upon this new-made empress.
To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen, this goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, this siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine and see his shipwreck and his commonweal's.
Holloai What storm is this? Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge and manners, to intrude where I am graced and may, for aught thou know'st, affected be.
Demetrius, thou dost overvveen 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.
Clubs, clubs, these lovers will not keep the peace.
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 ill you know better how to handle it.
Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
Aye, boy, grow ye so brave? Why, how now, lords! So near the Emperor's palace dare you draw and maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well, I wot the ground of all this grudge.
I would not for a million of gold the cause were known to them it most concerns, nor would your noble mother for much more be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome.
- For shame, put up.
- 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.
For that I am prepared and full resolved.
Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue and with thy weapon nothing darest perform.
Away, I say.
Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, this petty brabble will undo us all.
Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous it is to jet upon a prince's right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, or Bassianus so degenerate, that for her love such quarrels may be broach'd without controlment, justice or revenge? Young lords, beware.
And should the empress know this discord's ground, the music would not please.
I care not, I, knew she and all the world.
I love Lavinia more than all the world.
Younglingi Learn thou to make some meaner choice.
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope.
Are you mad? Or know you 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.
Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose to achieve her whom I love.
To achieve her? How? Why makest thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd.
She is a woman, therefore may be won.
She is Lavinia, therefore, must be loved.
What, man? More water glideth by the mill than wots the miller of.
And easy it is of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know.
Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, better than he have worn Vulcan's badge.
Aye, and as good as Saturninus may.
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? Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so would serve your turns.
- Aye, so the turn were served.
- Aaron, thou hast hit it.
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? - Faith, not me.
- Nor me, so I were one.
For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar.
'Tis policy and stratagem must do that you affect and so must you resolve, that what you cannot as you would achieve, you must perforce accomplish as you may.
Take this of me.
Lucrece was not more chaste than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love.
A speedier course than lingering languishment must we pursue and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand.
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop.
The forest walks are wide and spacious and many unfrequented plots there are fitted by kind for rape and 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, shadow'd from heaven's eye and revel in Lavinia's treasury.
Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.
Be it right or wrong, till I find the stream to cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, I am in hell.
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.
Many good morrows to Your Majesty, madam, to you as many and as good.
I promised Your Grace a hunter's peal.
And you have rung it lustily, my lords.
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
- Lavinia, how say you? - I say, no.
I have been broad awake two hours and more.
Come on, then, horse and chariots let us have, and to our sport.
Madam, now shall ye see our Roman hunting.
I have dogs, my lord, will rouse the proudest panther in the chase and climb the highest promontory top.
And I have horse will follow where the game make way and run like swallows o'er the plain.
Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, but hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.
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.
My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, when everything doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, the snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, the green leaves quiver in the cooling wind and make a chequer'd shadow on the ground.
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit and, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, as if a double hunt were heard at once let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise and afier conflict, such as was supposed the wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, when, with a happy storm, they were surprised and curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, we may, each wreathed in the other's arms, our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds be unto us as is a nurse's song of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
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, Tamera, 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.
Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life.
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.
Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, who hath abandoned her holy groves to see the general hunting in this forest? 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 an.
Under your patience, gentle empress, 'tis thought you have a goodly gift in homing and to be doubted that the 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.
Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian doth make your honour of his body's hue, spotted, detested and abominable.
Why are you sequester'd from all your train, dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed and wander'd hither to an obscure plot, accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, if foul desire had not conducted you? And, being intercepted in your sport, great reason that my noble lord be rated for sauciness.
I pray you, let us hence, and let her joy her raven-colour'd love.
This valley fits the purpose passing well.
- The king, my brother, shall have note of this.
- Good king, to be so mightily abused.
Why, I have patience to endure all this.
How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! Why doth Your Highness look so pale and wan? Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have 'ticed me hither to this place.
A barren, detested vale, you see it is.
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, o'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe.
Here never shines the sun.
Here nothing breeds, unless the nightly owl or fatal raven.
And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, they told me, here, at dead time of the night, a thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins would make such fearful and confused cries that any mortal body hearing it should straight run mad or else die suddenly.
No sooner had they told this hellish tale, but straight they told me they would bind me here unto the body of a dismal yew and leave me to this miserable death.
And then they call'd me foul adulteress, lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms that ever ear did hear to such effect.
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, this vengeance on me had they executed.
Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, or be ye not henceforth call'd my children.
This is a witness that I am thy son! And this for me, struck home to show my strength.
Aye! Come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamera, for no name fits thy nature but thine own.
Give me thy poniard.
You shall know, my boys, your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong.
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 this painted hope braves your mightiness.
And shall she carry this unto her grave? 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.
But when ye have the honey we desire, let not this wasp outlive us both to sting.
I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure.
Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy that nice-preserved honesty of yours.
O Tamera, thou bear'st a woman's face - I will not hear her speak.
Away with her.
- Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.
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.
When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? O, do not learn her wrath, she taught it thee the milk thou sucl'dst from her did turn to marble, even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike.
Do thou entreat her show her a woman's pity.
What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard? '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 the ravens foster forlorn children, the whilst their own birds famish in the nest.
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, nothing so kind, but something pitiful.
I know not what it means.
Away with her! 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.
Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, even for his sake am I pitiless.
Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain to save your brother from the sacrifice, but fierce Andronicus would not relent.
Away with her! Use her as you will, the worse to her, the better loved of me.
O Tamera, be call'd a gentle queen and with thine own hands kill me in this place.
For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long.
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.
What begg'st thou, then? Fond woman, let me go! 'Tis present death I beg and one thing more that womanhood denies a tongue to tell.
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust and tumble me into some loathsome pit, where never man's eyes may behold my body.
Do this and be a charitable murderer.
So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee.
No.
Let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Away, for thou hast stay'd us here too long.
No grace? No womanhood? Ah! Beastly creature! The blot and enemy to our general name.
Confusion fall Nay, then I'll stop your mouth.
Bring thou her husband.
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
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 and seek my lovely Moor.
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r.
Come on, my lords! The better foot before.
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit where I espied the panther fast asleep.
My sight is very dull.
Whate'er it bodes.
And mine, I promise you.
Were't not for shame, well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
Aaa-aargh! What an thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this, whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers, upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood as fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? A very fatal place it seems to me.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? O brother, with the dismall'st object hurt that ever eye with sight made heart lament 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.
Why dost not comfort me and help me out from this unhallowed and bloodstained hole? I am surprised with an uncouth fear.
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints.
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
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.
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.
Lord Bassianus lies beray'd in blood, all on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, in this de-tested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? Upon his bloody finger he doth wear a precious ring that lightens all this hole, which, like a taper in some monument, doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks and shows the ragged entrails of this 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! O give me thy hand that I may help thee out or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb of this deep pit.
Poor Bassianus' grave.
- I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
- Norl no strength to climb without thy help.
Thy hand once more.
I will not loose again, till thou an here aloft or I below.
Thou canst not come to me.
I come to thee.
Along with me.
I'll see what hole is here and what he is that now is leap'd into it.
Say, who art thou that lately didst descend into this gaping hollow of the earth? The unhappy sons of old Andronicus brought hither in a most unlucky hour to find thy brother Bassianus dead.
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.
We know not where you left them all alive, but, out, alas.
Here have we found him dead.
Where is my ford the king? Here, Tamera, though griev'd with killing grief.
Where is thy brother Bassianus? Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound.
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
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.
And 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 Tamera, 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.
My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
Two ofthy 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.
What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered.
High Emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, that this vile fault of my accursed sons, accursed if the fault be proved in them If it be proved? You see it is apparent.
Who found this letter? Tamera, was it you? Andronicus himself did take it up.
I did, my lord.
Yet let me be their bail, for, by my father's reverend tomb, I vow they shall be ready at Your Highness' will to answer their suspicion with their lives.
Thou shalt not bail them.
See thou follow me.
Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers.
Let them not speak a word.
The guilt is plain.
For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, that end upon them should be executed.
Andronicus, I will entreat the king.
Fear not thy sons.
They shall do well enough.
Come, Lucius.
Come.
Stay not to talk with them.
Now go tell, and ifthy tongue can speak, who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee.
Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, and ifthy stumps will let thee, play the scribe.
See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
Go home.
Call for sweet water.
Wash thy hands.
She hath no tongue to call nor hands to wash.
And so let's leave her to her silent walks.
An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself.
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
Who is this? My niece, that flies away so fast? Cousin, a word! Where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me.
If I do wake, some planet strike me down, that I may slumber in eternal sleep.
Speak, gentle niece.
What stern, ungentle hand have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in? Why dost not speak to me? Alas! A crimson river of warm blood, like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee and, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
Ah! Now thou turn'st away thy face for shame.
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, as from a conduit with three issuing spouts yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
Shall I speak forthee? Shall I say 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart and knew the beast, that I might rail at him, to ease my mind.
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomel, why she but lost her tongue and in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind, but, gentle niece, that mean is cut from thee.
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, for he hath cut thy pretty fingers off that could have better sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands tremble like aspen-leaves upon the lute and make the silken strings delight to kiss them, he would not then have touch'd them for his life.
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony, which that sweet, sweet tongue hath made, he would have dropp'd his knife and fell asleep as Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
Come.
Let us go and make thy father blind.
For such a sight will blind a father's eye.
But if 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.
Hear me, grave fathers.
Noble tribunes, stay.
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent in dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept, for all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed, for all the frosty nights that I have watch'd and for these bitter tears, which now you see filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, be pitiful to my condemned sons, whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.
For two and twenty sons I never wept, because they died in honour's lofty bed.
For these, tribunes, in the dust I write my heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears.
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite, my sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, 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 springtime on thy face, so thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.
O reverend tribunes, 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.
O noble father, you lament in vain.
The tribunes hear you not.
No man is by and you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
Why, 'tis no matter, man.
If they did hear, they would not mark me or if they did mark, they would not pity me, yet plead I must, 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? To rescue my two brothers from their death.
For which attempt the judges have pronounced my everlasting doom of banishment.
O, happy man.
They have befriended thee.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive that Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey and Rome affords no prey but me and mine.
How happy an thou, then, from these devourers to be banished.
But who comes with my brother Marcus here? Titus, prepare thine aged eyes to weep or, if not so, thy noble heart to break.
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
O will it consume me? Let me see it, then.
This was thy daughter.
Why, Marcus, so she is.
Aye me, this object kills me.
Faint-hearted boy, arise and look on her.
Speak.
Lavinia! What accursed hand hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou camest and now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.
Give me a sword! I'll chop off my hands, too.
For they have fought for Rome and all in vain.
And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life.
In bootless prayer have they been held up and they have served me to effectless use.
Now all the service I require of them is that the one may help to cut the other.
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands.
For hands to do Rome service is but vain.
Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? O, that delightful engine of her thoughts that blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sang sweet, varied notes, enchanting every ear.
O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? O, thus I found her, straying in the park, seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer that hath received some unrecuring wound.
It was my deer.
And he that wounded her hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead.
For now I stand as one upon a rock, environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow, wave by wave, ever expecting 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 mar'tyr'd thee.
Thy husband, he is dead.
And for his death, thy brothers are condemn'd and dead by this.
O, Marcus.
O, son Lucius, look on her.
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband, perchance because she knows them innocent.
If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
No.
No, they would not do so foul a deed.
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
Gentle Lavinia Let me kiss thy lips.
Or give some sign howl may do thee ease.
Shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius and thou and I, sit round about some fountain, looking all downwards to behold our cheeks, how they are stain'd like meadows, yet not dry, with miry slime left on them by a flood? And in that 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 wonder'd at in time to come.
Sweet father, cease your tears, for, at your grief, see how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
Patience, dear niece.
Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
O Marcus.
Brother Marcus, well I wot thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, for thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own.
Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
Mark, Marcus, mark.
I understand her signs.
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say that to her brother which I said to thee.
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
O! What a sympathy of woe is this.
As far from help as limbo is from bliss.
Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor sends thee this word, that if thou love thy sons, let Marcus, Lucius or thyself, old Titus, or any one of you, chop off your hand and send it to the king.
He for the same will send thee hither both thy sons alive and that shall be the ransom for their fault.
O gracious emperor, O gentle Aaron, did ever raven sing so like a lark to bring 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? 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.
Which of your hands hath not defended Rome and rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, writing destruction on the enemy's castle? O, none of both but are of high desert.
My hand hath been but idle.
Let it serve to ransom my two nephews from their death, then have I kept it to a worthy end.
Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, for fear they die before their pardon come.
- My hand shall go! - By heaven, it shall not go.
Sirs, strive no more.
Such wither'd herbs as these are meet for plucking up and therefore mine.
Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy son, let me redeem my brothers both from death.
And, for thy father's sake and mother's care, now let me show a brother's love to thee.
Agree between you.
I will spare my hand.
- Then I'll go fetch an axe.
- But I will use the axe.
Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both.
Lend me thy hand and I will give thee mine.
If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest and never, whilst I live, deceive men so.
But I'll deceive thee in another son, and that thou'll say, ere half an hour pass.
Now strive no more.
What shall be is dispatch'd.
Good Aaron, send 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.
I go, Andronicus.
And for thy hand, look, by and by, to have thy sons with thee.
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.
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.
What, would'st thou kneel with me? Do, then, dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers or, with our tears, we'll breathe the welkin dim and stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds when they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
O brother, speak with possibility and do not break into these deep extremes.
Are not my sorrows deep, having no limit? Be then my passions limitless with them.
But yet let reason govern thy lament! If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes.
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, threatening the welkin with his big, swollen face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea! Hark, how her sighs do blow! She is the weeping welkin, I the earth.
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs.
Then must my earth with her continual tears become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd.
For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, but like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave.
For losers will have leave to ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
Worthy Andronicus, ill an thou repaid for that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
Here are the heads ofthy two noble sons.
And here's thy hand, in scorn, to thee sent back.
Thy grief, their sports.
Thy resolution mock'd.
That woe is me to think upon thy woes more than remembrance of my father's death.
Now let hot Etna cool in Sicily and be my heart an everburning 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.
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.
Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless as frozen water to a stan/ed snake.
When will this fearful slumber have an end? Now, farewell, flattery.
Die, Andronicus.
Thou dost not slumber.
See, thy two sons' heads, thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here, thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother, I, even like a stony image, cold and numb.
Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs.
Rend out thy silver hair, thy other hand gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismal sight the closing up of our most wretched eyes.
This is a time to storm! Why art thou still? Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour.
Why? I have not another tear to shed.
Besides this sorrow is an enemy.
And would usurp upon my watery eyes and make them blind with tributary tears.
Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem do seem to speak to me, and threat me I shall never come to bliss till all these mischief s be return'd again even in their throats which 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 upon my soul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made.
Marcus Take thou a head.
And, in this hand, the other will I bear.
Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in this.
Bearthou 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, and I think it so, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
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.
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 tyrannise 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 must 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.
Fie, brother, fie! Teach her not thus to lay such violent hands upon her tender life.
How now, has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can she lay on her life? O, handle not the theme to talk of hands, lest we remember still that we have none.
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, as if we could forget we have no hands, if Marcus did not name the word of hands.
Come, let's fall to.
Gentle girl eat this.
Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says.
I can interpret all her clmarlyr'd signs.
She says she drinks no other drink but tears, brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks.
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought.
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect as begging hermits at 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.
Good Grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments.
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved, doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Peace, tender sapling.
Thou an made of tears and tears will quickly melt thy life away.
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? At that that I have kill'd, my lord, a fly.
Out on thee, murderer! Thou kill'st my heart.
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny.
A deed of death done on the innocent becomes not Titus' brother.
Get thee gone.
I see thou an not for my company.
Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
But How, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings and buzz lamenting doings in the air.
Poor harmless fly, that, with his pretty buzzing melody, came here to make us merry and thou hast kill'd him.
O pardon, sir, it was a black ill-favour'd fly, like to the empress' Moor, therefore I kill'd him.
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 Tamera! 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.
Alas, poor man.
Grief has so wrought on him, he takes false shadows for true substances.
Come, take away! Lavinia, go with me.
I'll to thy closet and go read with thee sad stories chanced in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me.
Thy sight is young and thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.
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.
- Stand by me, Lucius.
Do not fear thine aunt.
- She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did.
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? Fear her not, Lucius.
Somewhat doth she mean.
See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee.
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.
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? 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, extremities 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.
Lucius, I will.
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 an deeper read and better skill'd, come, and take choice of all my library and so beguile thy sorrows, till the heavens reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence, thus? 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.
Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses.
My mother gave it me.
For love of her that's gone, perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.
Soft! See how busily she turns the leaves.
What would she find? Help her! Lavinia, shah' 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.
See, brother, see.
Note how she quotes the leaves.
Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, forced in the vast and ruthless, gloomy woods? Aye.
See, see.
Such a place there was, where we did hunt.
O, had we never, never hunted there.
Pattern'd by this, the poet here describes, by nature made for murders and for rapes.
O, why should nature build so foul a den, unless the gods delight in tragedies? Give signs, sweet girl for here are none but friends, what Roman lord it was durst do the deed.
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, that left the camp to sin in Lucrece's bed? Sit down, sweet niece! Brother! Sit down with me.
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and 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 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 discover'd, for revenge.
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain.
That we may know the traitors and the truth.
O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? Rape.
Chiron.
Demetrius.
Magni dominator poli, tam lentus audis scelera? Tam lentus vides? 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.
Kneel down with me.
Lavinia, kneel.
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope, and swear with me, as with the woeful frere 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.
'Tis sure enough.
And you knew how.
But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware.
The dam will wake and, if she wind ye 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? 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.
Aye, there's my boy.
Thy father hath full oft for his ungrateful country done the like.
And, uncle, so will I, and if I live.
Come, go with me into mine armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee and, my boy, withal, shalt carry from me to the empress' sons presents that I intend to send them both.
Come, come.
Thou'It do my message, wilt thou not? Aye, and with my dagger in their bosoms, Grandsire.
No, boy, not so.
I'll teach thee another course.
Lavinia, come.
Marcus, look to my house.
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court.
Aye, marry, will we, sir, and we'll be waited on.
O heavens, can you hear a good man groan and not relent and not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, that hath more scars of sorrow in his heart than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield, and yet so just that he will not revenge.
Revenge, the heavens, for old Andronicus.
Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius.
He hath some message to deliver us.
Aye, some mad message from his mad grandfather! My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus.
And pray the Roman gods confound you both.
Gramercy, lovely Lucius.
What's the news? That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, for villains mark'd with rape.
May it please you, my grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me the goodliest weapons of his armoury to gratify your honourable youth, the hope of Rome, for so he bid me say.
And so I do, and with these gifts present your lordships, that, whenever you have need, you may be armed and appointed well.
And so I leave you both.
Like bloody villains.
What's here? A scroll, and written round about.
Let's see.
Integer vitae, sce-le-ris-que purus, non eget mori Mauri.
- Mauri.
- Mauri.
DEMETRIUS AND CHIRONI.
.
jaculis, nec arc O, 'tis a verse in Horace.
I know it well.
I read it in the grammar long ago.
Ay, just, a verse in Horace.
Right.
You have it.
Now, what a thing it is to be an ass.
Here's no sound jest.
The old man hath found their guilt and sends them weapons wrapped about with lines that wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well afoot, 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 doth me good to see so great a lord basely insinuate and send us gifts.
Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? I would we had a thousand Roman dames at such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
A charitable wish and full of love.
- Here lacks but your mother for to say "amen".
- And that would she for twenty thousand more.
Come.
Let us go and pray to all the gods for our beloved mother in her pains.
Pray to the devils.
The gods have given us over.
Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? - Belike, for joy, the emperor hath a son.
- Soft! Who comes here? Good morrow, lords.
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, here Aaron is and what with Aaron now? O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! Now help.
- Or woe betide thee evermore.
- Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! - What dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms? - O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye.
Our empress' shame and stately Rome's disgrace.
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd.
- To whom? - I mean, she is brought a-bed.
Well, God give her good rest.
- What hath he sent her? - A devil! Why, then, she is the devil's dam.
A joyful issue.
A joyless, dismal, black and sorrowful issue.
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad amongst the fair-faced breeders of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, and bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.
Zounds, ye whore! Is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse.
You are a beauteous blossom, sure.
Villain what hast thou done? That which thou canst not undo.
Thou hast undone our mother.
Villain, I have done thy mother.
And therein, hellish dog, hast thou undone her.
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice.
Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend.
- It shall not live.
- It shall not die.
Aaron, it must.
The mother wills it so.
What, must it, nurse? Then let no man but I do execution on my flesh and blood.
I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point.
Nurse, give it to me! My sword shall soon dispatch it.
Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.
Stay, murderous villains! Will you kill your brother? 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 threatening band of Typhon's brood, nor great Alcides, nor the god of war shall seize this prey out of his father's hands! What? What, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys? Ye white-limed walls.
Ye alehouse painted signs.
Coal-black is better than another hue, in that it scorns to bear another hue.
For all the water in the ocean can never turn the 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.
Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? My mistress is my mistress.
This, myself, 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.
By this our mother is forever shamed.
Rome will despise her for this foul escape.
The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death.
I blush to think upon this ignomy.
Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears.
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing the close enacts and counsels ofthy heart.
Here's a young lad framed of another leer.
Look! How the black slave smiles upon the father, as who should say, "Old lad, I am thine own.
" He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed of that self-blood, which first gave life to you and from that womb where you imprison'd were, he is enfranchised and brought to light.
Nay, he is your brother, by the surer side, although my seal be stamped in his face.
Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done and we will all subscribe to thy advice.
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.
Then sit we down and let us all consult.
My son and I will have the wind of you.
Keep there.
Now, talk at pleasure of your safety.
How many women saw this child of his? Why, so, brave lords.
When we 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? Cornelia the midwife and myself.
And no-one else but the deliver'd empress.
The empress, the midwife and yourself.
Two may keep counsel when the third's away.
Go to the empress.
Tell herthis I said.
Urhh! So cries a pig prepared to the spit.
What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this? O lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy.
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, a long-tongued, babbling gossip? No, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman.
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed.
His child is like to her, fair, as you are.
Go pack with him, give the mother gold and tell them both the circumstance of all and how by this their child shall be advanced 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, you see I have given her physic 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 to me presently.
The midwife and the nurse well made away, then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air with secrets.
For this care of Tamera, herself and hers are highly bound to thee.
Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies.
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 hence, 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 goat and cabin in a cave and bring you up to be a warrior and command a camp.
Come, Marcus, come.
Kinsmen, this is the way.
Sir boy, let me see your archery.
Look, you draw home enough and 'tis there straight.
The goddess of justice has left the earth.
Be remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled.
Sirs, take you to your tools.
You, cousins, shall go sound the ocean and cast your nets.
Happily, you may catch her in the sea.
Yet there's as little justice as at land.
No, Publius and Sempronius, you must do it.
'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade and pierce the inmost centre of the earth.
Then, when you come to Pluto's region, I pray you, deliver him this petition.
Tell him, it is for justice and for aid and that it comes from old Andronicus, shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.
Ah, Rome.
Well, well, I made thee miserable that time I threw the people's suffrages on him that now doth tyrannise o'er me.
Go.
Get you gone! And pray be careful all and leave you not one man-of-war unsearch'd.
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence.
Then, Kinsmen, we may go pipe for justice.
O Publius, is not this a heavy case, to see thy noble uncle thus distract? Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns by day and night to attend him carefully and feed his humour kindly as we may, till time beget some careful remedy.
My son, his sorrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths and, with revengeful war, take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude and vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
Publius, how now? How now, my masters? What, have you met with her? No, my good lord, but Pluto sends you word, if you will have revenge in hell, you shall.
Marry, for justice, she is so employ'd, he thinks, with Jove in heaven or somewhere else, so that perforce you must needs stay a time.
He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
I'll dive into the burning lake below and pull her out of Acheron by the heels! Marcus we are but shrubs.
No cedars we, no big-boned men, framed of the Cyclops' size.
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear.
And, sith, there is no justice in earth or 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.
Ad Jovem, that's for you.
Here, ad Apollinem.
Ad Martem, that's for myself.
Here, boy, to Pallas.
Here, to Mercury.
To Saturn, Caius not to Saturnine.
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
Come to it, boy.
Marcus, loose when I bid.
Of my word, I've written to effect.
There's not a god left unsolicited.
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court.
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
Now, masters.
Draw.
Well done, Lucius! My lord, I aimed a mile beyond the moon.
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
Why, there it goes! God give his lordship joy.
News.
News from heaven.
Marcus, the post is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? Have you any letters? Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter? O, the gibbet-maker.
He says he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.
But what says Jupiter, I asked thee? Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter.
I never drank with him in all my life.
Ssh! Why, villain, an thou not the carrier? Aye, of my pigeons, sir.
Nothing else.
Why, didst thou not come from heaven? From heaven? Alas, sir, no, 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 imperial's men.
Why, sir, this is as fit as can be to serve you for your oration.
Let him deliver his pigeons to the emperor from you.
Can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace? Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.
Come hither, sirrah.
Make no more ado, but give your pigeons to the emperor.
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
Hold, hold.
Here is money for your charges.
Sirrah Can you with a grace deliver up a supplication? Aye, sir.
Then here is a supplication for you.
And when you come to him, at the first approach, you must kneel.
And then kiss his foot.
And then deliver up your pigeons and then look for your reward.
I'll be at hand, sir.
See you do it bravely.
I warrant you, sir, I will.
Sirrah - Hast thou a knife? - Aye, sir.
Let me see it.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration.
For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.
And when you hast given it the emperor, knock at my door and tell me what he says.
God be with you, sir, I will.
Come, Marcus, come.
Publius, follow me.
Why, lords, what wrongs are these? Was ever seen an emperor in Rome thus overborne? Troubled, confronted thus and, for the extent of egal justice, used in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, however these distumers of our peace buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, but even with law, against the wilful sons of old Andronicus.
And what and if his sorrows have so overvvhelm'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.
See.
Here's to Jove.
And this to Mercury.
This to Apollo.
This to the god of war.
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome.
What's this but libelling against the Senate and blazoning our injustice everywhere? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies 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.
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 pierced 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 become high-wilted Tamera to gloze with all.
But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, thy life-blood out.
If Aaron now be wise, then is all safe, the anchor in the port.
How now, good fellow.
Wouldst thou speak with us? Yea, forsooth, and your mistership be imperial.
Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.
LTis he.
God and Saint Stephen give you good den.
I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.
Go! Take him away and hang him presently! How much money must I have? Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.
Hanged? By Our lady! Then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villainy? I know from whence this same device proceeds.
May this be borne? As if his traitorous sons, that died by law for murder of our brother, have, by my means, been butcher'd wrongfully.
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair! Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughterman.
Sly frantic wretch! That holp'st to make me great, in hope thyselfshould'st govern Rome and me.
Oh, what news with thee, Aemilius? Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause.
The Goths have gather'd head and, with a power of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, they hither march amain, under conduct of Lucius, son to old Andronicus, who threats, in course of his revenge, to do as much as ever Coriolanus did.
Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head as flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms.
Aye.
Now begin our sorrows to approach.
'Tis he the common people love so much.
Myself hath often heard them say, when I have walked like a private man, that Lucius' banishment was wrongfully and they have wish'd that Lucius was their emperor.
Why should you fear? Is not your city strong? Aye, but the citizens favour Lucius and will revolt from me to succour him.
King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing and is not careful what they mean thereby, knowing that with the shadow of his wing, he can at pleasure stint their melody.
Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit, for know, thou emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus with words more sweet and yet more dangerous, than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep, when as the one is wounded with the bait, the other rotted with delicious feed.
But he will not entreat his son for us.
If Tamera entreat him, then he will.
For I can smooth and fill his aged ears with golden promises, that, were his heart almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
Go thou before.
Be our ambassador.
Say that the emperor requests a parley of warlike Lucius and appoint the meeting even at his father's house, the old Andronicus.
Aemilius, do this message honourably.
And if he stand on hostage for his safety, bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
Your bidding shall I do effectually.
Now will I to that old Andronicus and temper him with all the art I have, to pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again and bury all thy fears in my devices.
Then go incessantly and plead to him.
Approved warriors and my faithful friends! I have received letters from great Rome, which signifies what hate they bear their emperor and how desirous of our sight they are.
Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, imperious and impatient of your wrongs, and wherein Rome hath done you any scath, let him make treble satisfaction.
Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, whose name was once our terror, now our comfort, whose high exploits and honourable deeds ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt.
Be bold in us.
We'll follow where thou lead'st, like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, led by their master to the flowered fields and be avenged on cursed Tamera.
And as he saith, so say we all with him.
Aye! I humbly thank him and I thank you all.
But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd to gaze upon a ruinous monastery, and as I earnestly did fix mine eye upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall.
I made unto the noise, when soon I heard the crying babe controll'd with this discourse.
"Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam.
Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou an, had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, villain, thou mightst have been an emperor, but where the bull and cow are both milk-white, they never do beget a coal-black calf.
Peace, villain, peace.
" Even thus he rates the babe.
"For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth, who, when he knows thou an the empress' babe, will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.
" With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, surprised him suddenly and brought him hither to use as you think needful of the man.
O worthy Goth! This is the incarnate devil that robb'd Andronicus of his good hand.
This is the pearl that pleased your empress' eye and here's the base fruit of her burning lust.
Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey this growing image ofthy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? What, deaf? Not a word? A halter, soldiers! Hang him on this tree and by his side his fruit of bastardy.
Touch not the boy.
He is of royal blood.
Too like the sire for ever being good.
First, hang the child, that he may see it sprawl, a sight to vex the father's soul withal.
- Get me a ladder.
- Lucius, save the child and bear it from me to the empress.
If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things that highly may advantage thee to hear.
If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, I'll speak no more but vengeance rot you all.
Say on, and if it please me which thou speak'st, thy child shall live and I will see it nourish'd.
And if it please thee? Why, assure thee, Lucius, 'twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak, for I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres, acts of black night, abominable deeds, complots of mischief, treason, villainies ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd.
And this shall all be buried in my death, unless thou swear to me my child shall live.
Tell on thy mind.
I say thy child shall live.
Swear that he shall, then I will begin.
Who should I swear by? Thou believest no god.
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? What if I do not? As, indeed, I do not! Yet, for I know, thou an religious and hast a thing within thee called "conscience", therefore I urge thy oath.
For that I know an idiot holds his bauble for a god and keeps the oath which by that god he swears, to that I'll urge him.
Therefore thou shalt vow by that same god, what god soe'er it be, that thou adorest and hast in reverence, to save my boy, to nourish and bring him up, or else I will discover nought to thee.
Even by my 90¢ I swear to thee I will.
First, know thou, I begot him on the empress.
O most insatiate and luxurious woman.
Tut, Lucius! This was but a deed of charity to that which thou shalt hear of me anon.
'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus.
They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her and cut her hands and trimm'd her, as thou saw'st.
O detestable villain! Call'st thou that trimming? Why, she was wash'd and cut and trimm'd and 'twas trim sport for them which had the doing of it.
O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself.
Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them.
That codding spirit had they from their mother, as sure a card as ever won the set.
That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, as true a dog as ever fought at head.
Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.
I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole, where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay.
I wrote the letter that thy father found and hid the gold within that letter mention'd, confederate with the queen and her two sons.
And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand and, when I had it, drew myself apart and almost broke my heart with extreme laughter.
I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall, when, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads, beheld his tears and laugh'd so heartily, that both mine eyes were rainy like to his! And when I told the empress of this sport, she sounded almost at my pleasing tale and for my tidings gave me 20 kisses.
What, canst thou say all this and never blush? Aye, like a black dog, as the saying is! An thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? Aye.
That I had not done a thousand more.
Even now, I curse the day and yet, I think, few come within the compass of my curse, wherein I did not some notorious ill, as kill a man or else devise his death, ravish a maid or plot the way to do it, accuse some innocent and forswear myself, set deadly enmity between two friends, make poor men's cattle break their necks, set fire on barns and haystacks in the night and bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Ofl have I digg'd up dead men from their graves and set them upright at their dear friend's door, even when their sorrow almost was forgot.
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, have with my knife carved in Roman letters, "Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.
" Tut! I have done a thousand dreadful things, as willingly as one would kill a fly and nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that I cannot do ten thousand more.
Bring down the devil, for he must not die so sweet a death as hanging, presently.
If there be devils, would I were a devil, to live and burn in everlasting fire, so I might have your company in hell, but to torment you with my bitter tongue.
Sirs, stop his mouth and let him speak no more! My lord! There is a messenger from Rome desires to be admitted to your presence.
Let him come near.
Welcome, Aemilius, what's the news from Rome? Lord Lucius and you princes of the Goths, the Roman emperor greets you all by me.
And, for he understands you are in arms, he craves a parley at your father's house, willing you to demand your hostages and they shall be immediately deliver'd.
What says our general? Aemilius, let the emperor give his pledges unto my father and my uncle Marcus and we will come.
March away! Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus and say I am Revenge, sent from below to join with him and right his heinous wrongs.
Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, to ruminate strange plots of dire revenge.
Tell him Revenge is come to join with him and work confusion on his enemies.
Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, that so my sad decrees may fly away and all my study be to no effect? You are deceived.
For what I mean to do, see here in bloody lines, I have set down, and what is written shall be executed.
Titus, I am come to talk with thee.
No.
Not a word.
How can I grace my talk, wanting a hand to give it that accord? You have the odds of me, therefore no more.
If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me.
I am not mad.
I knowthee well enough.
Witness this wretched stump.
Witness these crimson lines.
Witness these trenches made by grief and care.
Witness the tiring day and heavy night.
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well for our proud empress, mighty Tamera.
Is not thy coming for my other hand? Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamera.
She is thy enemy and I thy friend.
I am Revenge, sent from the infernal kingdom, to ease the gnawing vulture ofthy mind, by working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.
Therefore, come down and welcome me to this world's light.
Confer with me of murder and of death.
There's not a hollow cave or lurking place, no vast obscurity or misty vale, where bloody murder and detested rape can couch for fear, but I will find them out and, in their ear, tell them my dreadful name - Revenge - which makes the foul offender quake.
An thou Revenge? And an thou sent to me, to be a torment to mine enemies? I am.
Therefore, come down and welcome me.
Do me some service, ere I come to thee.
Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands.
Now give some surance that thou art Revenge, stab them or tear them on thy chariot wheel, and then I'll come and be thy waggoner and whirl along with thee about the globe, provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, to hale thy vengeful waggon swift away and find out murderers in their guilty caves.
And when thy car is leaden with their heads, I will dismount and, by thy waggon wheel, trot, like a servile footman, all day long, even from Hyperion's rising in the east until his very downfall in the sea.
And, day by day, I'll do this heavy task.
So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.
These are my ministers and come with me.
Are they thy ministers? What are they call'd? Rape and Murder.
Therefore, called so, 'cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.
Good Lord! How like the empress' sons they are.
And you the empress.
But we worldly men have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.
O sweet Revenge! Now do I come to thee.
And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it, by and by.
This closing with him fits his lunacy.
Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick humours, do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, for now he firmly takes me for Revenge, and, being credulous in this mad thought, I'll make him send for Lucius his son and, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I'll find some cunning practice out of hand, to scatter and disperse the giddy Goths or, at the least, make them his enemies.
See, here he comes and I must ply my theme.
Long have I been forlorn and all for thee.
Welcome, dread Fury, to my woeful house.
Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too.
How like the empress and her sons you are.
Well, are you fitted, had you but a Moor.
Could not all hell afford you such a devil? For well I wot, the empress never wags but in her company there is a Moor and, would you represent our queen aright, it were convenient you had such a devil.
But welcome, as you are.
What shall we do? What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him.
Show me a villain that hath done a rape and I am sent to be revenged on him.
Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong and I will be revenged on them all.
Look.
Round about the wicked streets of Rome.
When thou find'st a man that's like thyself, good Murder, stab him.
He's a murderer.
Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap to find another that is like to thee, good Rapine, stab him.
He's a ravisher.
Go thou with them.
And in the emperor's court, there is a queen, attended by a Moor.
Well shalt thou know her by thy own proportion, for up and down, she doth resemble thee.
I pray thee, do on them some violent death.
They have been violent to me and mine.
Well hast thou lesson'd us.
This shall we do.
But would it please thee, good Andronicus, to send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths and bid him come and banquet at thy house.
When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her sons, the emperor himself and all thy foes and at thy mercy they shalt stoop and kneel and on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.
What says Andronicus to this device? Marcus, my brother.
'Tis sad Titus calls.
Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius.
Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths.
Bid him repair to me and bring with him some of the chiefest princes of the Goths.
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are.
Tell him the emperor and the empress, too, feast at my house and he shall feast with them.
This do thou for my love and so let him, as he regards his aged father's life.
This shall I do and soon return again.
Now will I hence about thy business and take my ministers along with me.
Nay, nay.
Let Rape and Murder stay with me.
Or else I'll call my brother back again and cleave to no revenge but Lucius.
What say you, boys? Will you abide with him, whiles I go tell my lord the emperor howl have govern'd our determined jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, and tarry with him till I turn again.
I know them all, though they suppose me mad.
And will o'erreach them in their own devices.
A pair of hell hounds and their cursed dam.
Madam, depart at pleasure.
Leave us here.
Farewell, Andronicus.
Revenge now goes to lay a complot to betray thy foes.
I know thou dost, and, sweet Revenge, farewell.
Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? Tut, I have work enough for you to do.
Publius, come hither! Caius and Valentine! PUBLIUSI What is your will? Know you these two? The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius.
Fie, Publius, fie.
Thou an too much deceived.
The one is Murder.
And Rape is the other's name.
And, therefore, bind them, gentle Publius.
Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them.
Ofl have you heard me wish for such an hour and now I find it.
Therefore, bind them sure.
And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.
Villains, forbear.
We are the empress' sons.
PUBLIUSI And therefore do we what we are commanded.
Stop, close their mouths, let them not speak a word.
Is he sure bound? Look that you bind them fast Come.
Come, Lavinia.
Look, thy foes are bound.
Sirs, stop their mouths.
Let them not speak to me.
But let them hear what fearful words I utter.
O villains.
Chiron and Demetrius.
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud, this goodly summer with your winter mixt.
You kill'd her husband and for that vile fault, two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, my hand cut off and made a merry jest, both her sweet hands, her tongue and that more dear than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity.
Inhuman traitors.
You constrain'd and forced.
What would you say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame, you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches.
Howl mean to martyr you.
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, whilst that Lavinia, 'tween her stumps, doth hold the basin that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me and calls herself Revenge and thinks me mad.
Hark, wretches, I will grind your bones to dust and, with your blood and it, I'll make a paste.
And of that paste a coffin I will rear and make two pasties of your shameful heads.
And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam like to the earth, swallow her own increase.
This is the feast that I have bid her to and this the banquet she shall surfeit on.
For worse than Philomel, you used my daughter and worse than Progne, will I be revenged.
And now prepare your throats.
Lavinia, come, receive the blood.
Come, come, be everyone officious to make this banquet, which I wish may prove more stern and bloody than the centaurs' feast.
Bring them in, for I'll go play the cook and see them ready 'gainst their mother comes.
Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind that I repair to Rome, I am content.
And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, this ravenous tiger, this accursed devil.
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, till he be brought unto the empress' face, for testimony of her foul proceedings.
And see the ambush of our friends be strong.
I fear the emperor means no good to us.
Some devil whisper curses in my ear and prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth the venomous malice of my swelling heart.
Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd slave! Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
What, hath the firmament more suns than one? What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? Rome's emperor and nephew, break the parle.
These quarrels must be quietly debated.
The feast is ready, which the careful Titus hath ordain'd to an honourable end, for peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome.
Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.
Marcus, we will.
Welcome, my lord.
Welcome, dread queen.
Welcome, ye warlike Goths.
Welcome, Lucius.
And welcome, all.
Although the cheer be poor, 'twill fill your stomachs, please, you eat of it.
Why an thou thus attired, Andronicus? Because I would be sure to have all well, to entertain Your Highness and your empress.
We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.
And if Your Highness knew my heart, you were.
My lord the emperor, resolve me this.
Was it well done of rash Virginius to slay his daughter with his own right hand, because she was enforced, stain'd and deflower'd? It was, Andronicus.
Your reason, mighty lord? Because the girl should not survive her shame and, by her presence, still renew his sorrows.
A reason mighty, strong and effectual.
A pattern, precedent and lively warrant, for me, most wretched to perform the like.
Die, Lavinia.
And thy shame with thee.
And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die.
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind.
I am as woeful as Virginius was, and have a thousand times more cause than he to do this outrage.
And it now is done.
What, was she ravish'd? Tell, who did the deed! Will't please you eat? Will't please Your Highness feed? - Why hast thou slain thy only daughter thus? - Not I.
'Twas Chiron and Demetrius.
They ravish'd her and cut away her tongue and they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.
Go fetch them hither to us, presently.
Why, there they are, both, baked in this pie, whereof their mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
'Tis true.
'Tis true, witness my knife's sharp point.
Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed! Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed! You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, by uproar se verb', as a flight of fowl scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts.
O, let me teach you how to knit again this scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, these broken limbs again into one body, lest Rome herself be bane unto herself and she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, like a forlorn and desperate castaway, do shameful execution on herself.
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, grave witness to true experience, cannot induce you to attend my words, speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor, when, with his solemn tongue, he did discourse to love-sick Dido's sad, attending ear the story of that baleful, burning night, when subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy.
Tet! us what Sfnon hath be witch'd our ears and who hath brought the fatat engine in that gave our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
My heart is not compact of flint nor steel, nor can I utter all our bitter griefs, but floods of tears will drown my oratory and break my utterance, even at a time when it should move ye to attend me most, and force you to commiseration.
Here's Rome's young captain.
Let him tell the tale, while I stand by and weep to hear him speak.
Then, gracious auditory, be it known to you, that Chiron and the damn'd Demetrius were they that murdered our emperor's brother.
And they it were that ravished our sister.
For their fell faults, our brothers were beheaded.
Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out and sent her enemies unto the grave.
Lastly, myself, unkindly banished, the gates shut on me and turn'd weeping out, to beg relief among Rome's enemies, who drown'd their enmity in my true tears and oped their arms to embrace me as a friend.
I am the turned forth, be it known to you, that have preserved her welfare in my blood and from her bosom took the enemy's point, sheathing the steel in my adventurous body.
Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I.
My scars can witness, dumb although they are, that my report is just and full of truth.
But, soft, methinks I do digress too much, citing my worthless praise.
O, pardon me, for when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Now is my turn to speak.
Behold the child! Of this was Tamera delivered, the issue of an irreligious Moor, chief architect and plotter of these woes.
The villain is alive in Titus' house and, as he is, to witness, this is true.
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge these wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, or more than any living man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss? Show us wherein and, from the place where you behold us, pleading, the poor remainder ofAndronici will, hand in hand, all headlong hurl ourselves and on the ragged stones beat forth our souls and make a mutual closure of our house.
Speak, Romans, speak! And if you say we shall, lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
Come, Marcus, come, thou reverend man of Rome, and bring our emperor gently in thy hand.
Lucius, our emperor! For well I know the common voice do cry it shall be so.
Lucius, all hail! Rome's royal emperor! Go to old Titus' sorrowful house and hither hale that misbelieving Moor, to be adjudged some direful slaughtering death, as punishment for his most wicked life.
Lucius, all hail! Rome's gracious governor! Thanks, gentle Romans.
May I govern so, to heal Rome's harms and wipe away her woe.
But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, for nature puts me to a heavy task.
Stand all aloof.
But, uncle, draw you near, to shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale, cold lips, these sorrowful drops upon thy bloodstain'd face.
The last true duties ofthy noble son.
Tear for tear and loving kiss for kiss, thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips.
O were the sum of these that I should pay countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.
Come hither, boy.
Come.
Come, and learn of us to melt in showers.
Thy grandsire loved thee well.
Many a time, he danced thee on his knee, sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow.
Many a story hath he told to thee and bid thee bear his pretty tales in mind and talk of them when he was dead and gone.
How many thousand times have these poor lips, when they were living, warm'd themselves on thine? O, now, sweet boy, give them their latest kiss.
Bid him farewell.
Commit him to the grave.
Do him that kindness and take leave of him.
O Grandsire, Grandsire.
Even with all my heart would I were dead, so you did live again.
O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping.
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.
You sad Andronici, have done with woes.
Give sentence on this execrable wretch, who hath been breeder of these dire events.
Set him breast-deep in earth and famish him.
There let him stand and rave and cry for food.
If anyone relieves or pities him, for the of fence, he dies.
This is our doom.
O! Why should wrath be mute and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done.
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did would I perform, if I might have my will.
If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
Some loving friends convey the emperor hence and give him burial in his father's grave.
My father and Lavinia shall, forthwith, be closed in our household's monument As for that ravenous tiger, Tamera no funeral rite, nor man in mourning weed no mournful bell shall ring her burial, but throw her forth to beasts and birds to prey.
Her life was beastly and devoid of pity.
And, being dead, let birds on her take pity.