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Ebook has 115 lines and 35435 words, and 3 pages

This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.

DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging off LAVINIA

TAMORA. Farewell, my sons; see that you make her sure. Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed Till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. Exit

Re-enter AARON, with two of TITUS' sons, QUINTUS and MARTIUS

AARON. Come on, my lords, the better foot before; Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep. QUINTUS. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. MARTIUS. And mine, I promise you; were it not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. QUINTUS. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briers, Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? A very fatal place it seems to me. Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? MARTIUS. O brother, with the dismal'st object hurt That ever eye with sight made heart lament! AARON. Now will I fetch the King to find them here, That he thereby may have a likely guess How these were they that made away his brother. Exit MARTIUS. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? QUINTUS. I am surprised with an uncouth fear; A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. MARTIUS. To prove thou hast a true divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death. QUINTUS. Aaron is gone, and my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing whereat it trembles by surmise; O, tell me who it is, for ne'er till now Was I a child to fear I know not what. MARTIUS. Lord Bassianus lies beray'd in blood, All on a heap, like to a slaughtered lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. QUINTUS. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? MARTIUS. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring that lightens all 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 bath'd in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand- If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath- Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. QUINTUS. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out, Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. MARTIUS. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. QUINTUS. Thy hand once more; I will not loose again, Till thou art here aloft, or I below. Thou canst not come to me- I come to thee.

Enter the EMPEROR and AARON the Moor

SATURNINUS. Along with me! I'll see what hole is here, And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say, who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth? MARTIUS. The unhappy sons of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. SATURNINUS. My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest: He and his lady both are at the lodge Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left them there. MARTIUS. We know not where you left them all alive; But, out alas! here have we found him dead.

Re-enter TAMORA, with attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS and Lucius

TAMORA. Where is my lord the King? SATURNINUS. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing grief. TAMORA. Where is thy brother Bassianus? SATURNINUS. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound; Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. TAMORA. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. SATURNINUS. 'An if we miss to meet him handsomely, Sweet huntsman- Bassianus 'tis we mean- Do thou so much as dig the grave for him. Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder-tree Which overshades the mouth of that same pit Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' O Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit and this the elder-tree. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out That should have murdered Bassianus here. AARON. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. SATURNINUS. Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life. Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; There let them bide until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. TAMORA. What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered! TITUS. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons- Accursed if the fault be prov'd in them- SATURNINUS. If it be prov'd! You see it is apparent. Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? TAMORA. Andronicus himself did take it up. TITUS. I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail; For, by my fathers' reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your Highness' will To answer their suspicion with their lives. SATURNINUS. Thou shalt not bail them; see thou follow me. Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers; Let them not speak a word- the guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed. TAMORA. Andronicus, I will entreat the King. Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. TITUS. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. Exeunt

Enter the Empress' sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA, her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravish'd

DEMETRIUS. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. CHIRON. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. DEMETRIUS. See how with signs and tokens she can scrowl. CHIRON. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. DEMETRIUS. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. CHIRON. An 'twere my cause, I should go hang myself. DEMETRIUS. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON

Wind horns. Enter MARCUS, from hunting

MARCUS. Who is this?- my niece, that flies away so fast? Cousin, a word: where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber an eternal sleep! Speak, gentle niece. What stern ungentle hands Hath lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches- those sweet ornaments Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, And might not gain so great a happiness As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But sure some Tereus hath deflowered thee, And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! And notwithstanding all this loss of blood- As from a conduit with three issuing spouts- Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face Blushing to be encount'red with a cloud. Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomel, why she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind; But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee. A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off That could have better sew'd than Philomel. O, had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble like aspen leaves upon a lute And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, He would not then have touch'd them for his life! Or had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind, For such a sight will blind a father's eye; One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads, What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; O, could our mourning case thy misery! Exeunt

Enter the JUDGES, TRIBUNES, and SENATORS, with TITUS' two sons MARTIUS and QUINTUS bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and TITUS going before, pleading

TITUS. Hear me, grave fathers; noble Tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed, For all the frosty nights that I have 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 That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Than youthful April shall with all his show'rs. In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

Enter Lucius with his weapon drawn

O reverend Tribunes! O gentle aged men! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. LUCIUS. O noble father, you lament in vain; The Tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrows to a stone. TITUS. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead! Grave Tribunes, once more I entreat of you. LUCIUS. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. TITUS. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, They would not pity me; yet plead I must, And bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale. When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; And were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. A stone is soft as wax: tribunes more hard than stones. A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? LUCIUS. To rescue my two brothers from their death; For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd My everlasting doom of banishment. TITUS. O happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine; how happy art thou then From these devourers to be banished! But who comes with our brother Marcus here?

Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA

MARCUS. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep, Or if not so, thy noble heart to break. I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. TITUS. Will it consume me? Let me see it then. MARCUS. This was thy daughter. TITUS. Why, Marcus, so she is. LUCIUS. Ay me! this object kills me. TITUS. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a fagot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, And now like Nilus it disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too, For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nurs'd this woe in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have serv'd me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other. 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; For hands to do Rome service is but vain. LUCIUS. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? MARCUS. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where like a sweet melodious bird it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! LUCIUS. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? MARCUS. O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound. TITUS. It was my dear, and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead; For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Here stands my other son, a banish'd man, And here my brother, weeping at my woes. But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me; what shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee; Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. Look, Marcus! Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew Upon a gath'red lily almost withered. MARCUS. Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance because she knows them innocent. TITUS. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips, Or make some sign how I may do thee ease. Shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius And thou and I sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks How they are stain'd, like meadows yet not dry With miry slime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Or shall we cut away our hands like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hateful days? What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues Plot some device of further misery To make us wonder'd at in time to come. LUCIUS. Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. MARCUS. Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. TITUS. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! Brother, well I wot Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. LUCIUS. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. TITUS. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs. Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee: His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!

Enter AARON the Moor

Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS

TITUS. Now stay your strife. What shall be is dispatch'd. Good Aaron, give his Majesty my hand; Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers; bid him bury it. More hath it merited- that let it have. As for my sons, say I account of them As jewels purchas'd at an easy price; And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. AARON. I go, Andronicus; and for thy hand Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. Their heads I mean. O, how this villainy Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace: Aaron will have his soul black like his face. Exit TITUS. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth; If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call! What, would'st thou kneel with me? Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. MARCUS. O brother, speak with possibility, And do not break into these deep extremes. TITUS. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. MARCUS. But yet let reason govern thy lament. TITUS. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes. When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swol'n face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark how her sighs do blow. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth; Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd; For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave; for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

Enter a MESSENGER, with two heads and a hand

MESSENGER. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid For that good hand thou sent'st the Emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back- Thy grief their sports, thy resolution mock'd, That woe is me to think upon thy woes, More than remembrance of my father's death. Exit MARCUS. Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne. To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at is double death. LUCIUS. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! MARCUS. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake. TITUS. When will this fearful slumber have an end? MARCUS. Now farewell, flatt'ry; 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. Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes. Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? TITUS. Ha, ha, ha! MARCUS. Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour. TITUS. Why, I have not another tear to shed; Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes And make them blind with tributary tears. Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, And threat me I shall never come to bliss Till all these mischiefs be return'd again Even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do. You heavy people, circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head, And in this hand the other will I bear. And, Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in this; Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay. Hie to the Goths and raise an army there; And if ye love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. Exeunt all but Lucius LUCIUS. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father, The woefull'st man that ever liv'd in Rome. Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs And make proud Saturnine and his empress Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a pow'r To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. Exit

A banquet.

Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and the boy YOUNG LUCIUS

Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm.

Enter TITUS and MARCUS

Enter AARON, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, at one door; and at the other door, YOUNG LUCIUS and another with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them

CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us. AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus- And pray the Roman gods confound you both! DEMETRIUS. Gramercy, lovely Lucius. What's the news? BOY. That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape.- May it please you, My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for so he bid me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well. And so I leave you both- like bloody villains. Exeunt YOUNG LUCIUS and attendant DEMETRIUS. What's here? A scroll, and written round about. Let's see: 'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arcu.' CHIRON. O, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well; I read it in the grammar long ago. AARON. 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 wrapp'd 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 did me good before the palace gate To brave the Tribune in his brother's hearing. DEMETRIUS. But me more good to see so great a lord Basely insinuate and send us gifts. AARON. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? DEMETRIUS. I would we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. CHIRON. A charitable wish and full of love. AARON. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. CHIRON. And that would she for twenty thousand more. DEMETRIUS. Come, let us go and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. AARON. Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. DEMETRIUS. Why do the Emperor's trumpets flourish thus? CHIRON. Belike, for joy the Emperor hath a son. DEMETRIUS. Soft! who comes here?

Enter NURSE, with a blackamoor CHILD

Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, bearing off the dead NURSE

AARON. 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. Exit with the CHILD

Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters on the ends of them; with him MARCUS, YOUNG LUCIUS, and other gentlemen, PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, and CAIUS, with bows

Enter the CLOWN, with a basket and two pigeons in it

Enter the EMPEROR, and the EMPRESS and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON; LORDS and others. The EMPEROR brings the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot at him

SATURNINUS. 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, us'd in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers 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 an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress. 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 unjustice every where? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? As who would say in Rome no justice were. But if I live, his feigned 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 he in fury shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. TAMORA. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become High-witted Tamora to gloze with all. But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, Thy life-blood on't; if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor in the port.

Enter CLOWN

How now, good fellow! Wouldst thou speak with us? CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, an your mistriship be Emperial. TAMORA. Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor. CLOWN. 'Tis he.- God and Saint Stephen give you godden. I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. SATURNINUS. Go take him away, and hang him presently. CLOWN. How much money must I have? TAMORA. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. CLOWN. Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. SATURNINUS. 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 butchered 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 thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter NUNTIUS AEMILIUS

What news with thee, Aemilius? AEMILIUS. Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gathered 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 this revenge to do As much as ever Coriolanus did. SATURNINUS. 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. Ay, now begins 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 were their emperor. TAMORA. Why should you fear? Is not your city strong? SATURNINUS. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, And will revolt from me to succour him. TAMORA. 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 wings He can at pleasure stint their melody; Even so mayest 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. SATURNINUS. But he will not entreat his son for us. TAMORA. If Tamora 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 to 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. SATURNINUS. Aemilius, do this message honourably; And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. AEMILIUS. Your bidding shall I do effectually. Exit TAMORA. 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 fear in my devices. SATURNINUS. Then go successantly, and plead to him. Exeunt

Enter LUCIUS with an army of GOTHS with drums and colours

LUCIUS. 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. FIRST GOTH. 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 flow'red fields, And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora. ALL THE GOTHS. And as he saith, so say we all with him. LUCIUS. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?

Enter a GOTH, leading AARON with his CHILD in his arms

Enter AEMILIUS

GOTH. My lord, there is a messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence. LUCIUS. Let him come near. Welcome, Aemilius. What's the news from Rome? AEMILIUS. 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. FIRST GOTH. What says our general? LUCIUS. Aemilius, let the Emperor give his pledges Unto my father and my uncle Marcus. And we will come. March away. Exeunt

Enter TAMORA, and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, disguised

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

They knock and TITUS opens his study door, above

Enter TITUS, below

TITUS. 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? TAMORA. What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? DEMETRIUS. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. CHIRON. Show me a villain that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. TAMORA. Show me a thousand that hath done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all. TITUS. Look round about the wicked streets of Rome, And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer. Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap To find another that is like to thee, Good Rapine, stab him; he is 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 thine own proportion, For up and down she doth resemble thee. I pray thee, do on them some violent death; They have been violent to me and mine. TAMORA. Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house; When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the Empress and her sons, The Emperor himself, and all thy foes; And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device? TITUS. Marcus, my brother! 'Tis sad Titus calls.

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