The Tragedy of Titus Andronicus

SCENE II. Rome. Before TITUS' house

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

  TITUS. 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 deceiv'd; for what I mean to do

    See here in bloody lines I have set down;

    And what is written shall be executed.

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

  TITUS. No, not a word. How can I grace my talk,

    Wanting a hand to give it that accord?

    Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more.

  TAMORA. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst talk with me.

  TITUS. I am not mad, I know thee well enough:

    Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines;

    Witness these trenches made by grief and care;

    Witness the tiring day and heavy night;

    Witness all sorrow that I know thee well

    For our proud Empress, mighty Tamora.

    Is not thy coming for my other hand?

  TAMORA. Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora:

    She is thy enemy and I thy friend.

    I am Revenge, sent from th' infernal kingdom

    To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind

    By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.

    Come down and welcome me to this world's light;

    Confer with me of murder and of death;

    There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place,

    No vast obscurity or misty vale,

    Where bloody murder or detested rape

    Can couch for fear but I will find them out;

    And in their ears tell them my dreadful name-

    Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.

  TITUS. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me

    To be a torment to mine enemies?

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

  TITUS. 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 wheels;

    And then I'll come and be thy waggoner

    And whirl along with thee about the globes.

    Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet,

    To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away,

    And find out murderers in their guilty caves;

    And when thy car is loaden with their heads,

    I will dismount, and by 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.

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

  TITUS. Are they thy ministers? What are they call'd?

  TAMORA. Rape and Murder; therefore called so

    'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.

  TITUS. Good Lord, how like the Empress' sons they are!

    And you the Empress! But we worldly men

    Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.

    O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee;

    And, if one arm's embracement will content thee,

    I will embrace thee in it by and by.

  TAMORA. This closing with him fits his 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.

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.

Enter MARCUS

    Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;

    Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths.

    Bid him repair to me, and bring with him

    Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;

    Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are.

    Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too

    Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them.

    This do thou for my love; and so let him,

    As he regards his aged father's life.

  MARCUS. This will I do, and soon return again. Exit

  TAMORA. Now will I hence about thy business,

    And take my ministers along with me.

  TITUS. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me,

    Or else I'll call my brother back again,

    And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.

  TAMORA. What say you, boys? Will you

abide

      with him,

    Whiles I go tell my lord the Emperor

    How I have govern'd our determin'd jest?

    Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,

    And tarry with him till I turn again.

  TITUS. I knew them all, though they suppos'd me mad,

    And will o'er reach them in their own devices,

    A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam.

  DEMETRIUS. Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here.

  TAMORA. Farewell, Andronicus, Revenge now goes

    To lay a complot to betray thy foes.

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

Exit TAMORA

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

  TITUS. Tut, I have work enough for you to do.

    Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine.

Enter PUBLIUS, CAIUS, and VALENTINE

  PUBLIUS. What is your will?

  TITUS. Know you these two?

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

  TITUS. Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceiv'd.

    The one is Murder, and Rape is the other's name;

    And therefore bind them, gentle Publius-

    Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them.

    Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,

    And now I find it; therefore bind them sure,

    And stop their mouths if they begin to cry. Exit

  CHIRON. Villains, forbear! we are the Empress' sons.

  PUBLIUS. And therefore do we what we are commanded.

    Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word.

    Is he sure bound? Look that you bind them fast.

Re-enter TITUS ANDRONICUS with a knife, and LAVINIA, with a basin

  TITUS. 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 mix'd.

    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 forc'd.

    What would you say, if I should let you speak?

    Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.

    Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you.

    This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,

    Whiles 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, villains! I will grind your bones to dust,

    And with your blood and it I'll make a paste;

    And of the paste a coffin I will rear,

    And make two pasties of your shameful heads;

    And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed 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 us'd my daughter,

    And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd.

    And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come,

    Receive the blood; and when that they are dead,

    Let me go grind their bones to powder small,

    And with this hateful liquor temper it;

    And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd.

    Come, come, be every one officious

    To make this banquet, which I wish may prove

    More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast.

    So.

    Now bring them in, for I will play the cook,

    And see them ready against their mother comes.

Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies

SCENE III. The court of TITUS' house

Enter Lucius, MARCUS, and the GOTHS, with AARON prisoner, and his CHILD in the arms of an attendant

  LUCIUS. Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind

    That I repair to Rome, I am content.

    FIRST GOTH. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.

  LUCIUS. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,

    This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;

    Let him receive no sust'nance, 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.

  AARON. Some devil whisper curses in my ear,

    And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth

    The venomous malice of my swelling heart!

  LUCIUS. Away, inhuman dog, unhallowed slave!

    Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.

Exeunt GOTHS with AARON. Flourish within

    The trumpets show the Emperor is at hand.

Sound trumpets. Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, TRIBUNES, SENATORS, and others

  SATURNINUS. What, hath the firmament more suns than one?

  LUCIUS. What boots it thee to can thyself a sun?

  MARCUS. Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break the parle;

    These quarrels must be quietly debated.

    The feast is ready which the careful Titus

    Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,

    For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome.

    Please you, therefore, draw nigh and take your places.

  SATURNINUS. Marcus, we will.

Trumpets sounding, enter TITUS like a cook, placing the dishes, and LAVINIA with a veil over her face; also YOUNG LUCIUS, and others

  TITUS. 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.

  SATURNINUS. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?

  TITUS. Because I would be sure to have all well

    To entertain your Highness and your Empress.

  TAMORA. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.

  TITUS. An if your Highness knew my heart, you were.

    My lord the Emperor, resolve me this:

    Was it well done of rash Virginius

    To slay his daughter with his own right hand,

    Because she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflower'd?

  SATURNINUS. It was, Andronicus.

  TITUS. Your reason, mighty lord.

  SATURNINUS. Because the girl should not survive her shame,

    And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

  TITUS. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual;

    A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant

    For me, most wretched, to perform the like.

    Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;

    And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die!

  SATURNINUS. What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?

  TITUS. 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.

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

  TITUS. Will't please you eat? Will't please your Highness

feed?

  TAMORA. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

  TITUS. Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.

    They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue;

    And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

  SATURNINUS. Go, fetch them hither to us presently.

  TITUS. 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.

  SATURNINUS. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed!

  LUCIUS. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?

    There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.

  MARCUS. You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Rome,

    By uproars sever'd, as a flight of fowl

    Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts?

    O, let me teach you how to knit again

    This scattered corn into one mutual sheaf,

    These broken limbs again into one body;

    Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,

    And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to,

    Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,

    Do shameful execution on herself.

    But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,

    Grave witnesses of 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 surpris'd King Priam's Troy.

    Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,

    Or who hath brought the fatal engine in

    That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.

    My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;

    Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,

    But floods of tears will drown my oratory

    And break my utt'rance, even in the 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.

  LUCIUS. Then, gracious auditory, be it known to you

    That Chiron and the damn'd Demetrius

    Were they that murd'red our Emperor's brother;

    And they it were that ravished our sister.

    For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,

    Our father's tears despis'd, 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 op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend.

    I am the turned forth, be it known to you,

    That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood

    And from her bosom took the enemy's point,

    Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous 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.

  MARCUS. Now is my turn to speak. Behold the child.

    Of this was Tamora delivered,

    The issue of an irreligious Moor,

    Chief architect and plotter of these woes.

    The villain is alive in Titus' house,

    Damn'd 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 have you 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 of Andronici

    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.

  AEMILIUS. Come, 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.

  ALL. Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor!

  MARCUS. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,

    And hither hale that misbelieving Moor

    To be adjudg'd some direful slaught'ring death,

    As punishment for his most wicked life. Exeunt some

              attendants. LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend

  ALL. Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor!

  LUCIUS. 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 blood-stain'd face,

    The last true duties of thy noble son!

  MARCUS. 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!

  LUCIUS. Come hither, boy; come, come, come, and learn of us

    To melt in showers. Thy grandsire lov'd thee well;

    Many a time he danc'd 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.

  MARCUS. How many thousand times hath 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 them that kindness, and take leave of them.

  BOY. O grandsire, grandsire! ev'n 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.

Re-enter attendants with AARON

  A ROMAN. You sad Andronici, have done with woes;

    Give sentence on the execrable wretch

    That hath been breeder of these dire events.

  LUCIUS. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him;

    There let him stand and rave and cry for food.

    If any one relieves or pities him,

    For the offence he die