THE MOST LAmentable Roman Tragedy of Titus Andronicus: As it was Played by the Right Honourable the Earl of Derby, Earl of Pembroke, and Earl of Sussex their Servants.  
LONDON, Printed by john Danter, and are to be sold by Edward White & Thomas Millington, at the little North door of Paul's at the sign of the Gun. 1594.   

The most Lamentable Roman Tragedy of Titus Andronicus: As it was Played by the Right Honourable the Earl of Derby, Earl of Pembroke, and Earl of Sussex their Servants.  Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft: And then enter Saturninus and his followers at one door, and Bassianus and his followers, with Drum's and Trumpets. Saturninus. 
NOble Patricians, Patrons of my Right,  
Defend the justice of my cause with arms.  
And Countrymen my loving followers,  
Plead my successive Title with your swords:  
I am his first borne son, that was the last  
That ware the Imperial Diadem of Rome,  
Then let my Father's honours live in me,  
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity,  Bassianus. 
Romans', friends, followers, favourers of my Right,  
If ever Bassianus Caesar's son,  
Were gracious in the eyes of Royal Rome,  
Keep then this passage to the Capitol,  
And suffer not dishonour to approach,  
The Imperial seat to virtue, consecrate  
To justice, continence, and Nobility:  
But let desert in pure election shine,  
And Romans' fight for freedom in your choice.  Marcus Andronicus with the Crown. 
Princes that strive by factions and by friends,  
Ambitiously for Rule and Empery,  
Know that the people of Rome for whom we stand  
A special Party, have by common voice,  
In election for the Roman Empery  
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius:  
For many good and great deserts to Rome,  
A Nobler man, a braver Warrior,  
lives not this day within the City walls.  
He by the Senate is accited home,  
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,  
That with his sons a terror to our foes,  
Hath yoked a Nation strong, trained up in Arms.  
Ten years are spent since first he undertook  
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms  
Our enemy's pride: Five times he hath returned  
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons,  
In Coffins from the field, and at this day,  
To the Monument of that Andronicy  
Done sacrifice of expiation,  
And slain the Noblest prisoner of the Gothes.  
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 Capital and Senate's Right,  
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,  
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength,  
Dismiss your followers, and as suitors should,  
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.  Saturninus. 
How fair the Tribune speaks to calm my thoughts.  Bassianus. 
Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy,  
In thy uprightness and integrity,  
And so I love and honour thee and thine,  
Thy Noble brother Titus and his sons,  
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,  
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,  
That I will here dismiss my loving friends:  
And to my fortunes and the people's favour,  
Commit my cause in balance to be weighed. Exit Soldiers.  Saturninus. 
Friends that have been thus forward in my right.  
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all,  
And to the love and favour of my Country,  
Commit myself, my person, and the cause:  
Rome be as just and gracious unto me,  
As I am confident and kind to thee.  
Open the gates and let me in.  Bassianus. 
Tribunes and me a poor Competitor.  They go up into the Senate house. Enter a Captain. 
Romans' make way, the good Andronicus,  
Patron of virtue, Rome's best Champion:  
Successful in the battles that he fights,  
With honour and with fortune is returned,  
From where he circumscribed with his sword,  
And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome.  Sound Drum's and Trumpets, and then enter two of Titus sons, and then two men bearing a Coffin covered with black, then two other sons, than Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queen of Goths and her two sons Chiron and Demetrius, with Aron the More, and others as many as can be, then set down the Coffin, and Titus speaks. Titus. 
Hail Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds,  
Lo as the Bark that hath discharged his fraught,  
Returns with precious lading to the bay,  
From whence at first she weighed her anchorage;  
cometh Andronicus, bound with Laurel bows,  
To resalute his Country with his tears,  
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome,  
Thou great defender of this Capitol,  
Stand gracious to the rights 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 sufferest thou thy sons unburied yet,  
To hover on the dreadful shore of styx,  
Make way to lay them by their brethren.  They open the Tomb. 
There greet in silence as the dead are wont,  
And sleep in peace, slain in your Country's wars:  
O sacred Receptacle of my joys,  
Sweet Cell of virtue and Nobility,  
How many sons hast thou of mine in store,  
That thou wilt never render to me more.  Lucius. 
Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths.  
That we may hue his limbs and on a pile,  
Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh:  
Before this earthy prison of their bones,  
That so the shadows be not unappeazde,  
Nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth.  Titus. 
I give him you the Noblest that survives,  
The eldest son of this distressed Queen.  Tamora. 
Stay Roman brethren, gracious Conqueror,  
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,  
A mother's tears in passion for her son:  
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,  
Oh think my son to be as dear to me.  
Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome  
To beautify thy triumphs, and return  
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke:  
But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets  
For valiant doings in their Country's cause?  
O if to fight for king and commonweal,  
Were piety in thine, it is in these:  
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood.  
Will't thou draw near the nature of the Gods?  
Draw near them then in being merciful,  
Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge,  
Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne son.  Titus. 
Patiented yourself Madam, and pardon me,  
These are their brethren, whom your Goths beheld  
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain,  
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:  
To this your son is marked, and die he must,  
T'appease their groaning shadows that are gone.  Lucius. 
Away with him, and make a fire strait,  
And with our swords upon a pile of wood,  
Let's hue his limbs till they be clean consumed.  Exit Titus sons with Alarbus. Tamora. 
O cruel irreligious piety.  Chiron. 
Was never Sythia half so barbarous.  Demetrius. 
Oppose not Sythia 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 armed the Queen of Troy  
With opportunity of sharp revenge  
Upon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,  
May favour Tamora the Queen of Goths,  
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was Queen,)  
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.  Enter the sons of Andronicus again. Lucius. 
See Lord and father how we have performed  
Our Roman rights, Alarbus limbs are lopped,  
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.  Titus. 
Let it be so, and let Andronicus,  
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.  Sound Trumpet's, and lay the Coffin in the Tomb. 
In peace and honour rest you here my sons,  
Rooms readiest Champions, repose you here in rest,  
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps:  
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,  
Here grow no damned drugs, here are no storms,  
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep,  
In peace and honour rest you here my sons.  Enter Lavinia. 
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 Rooms best Citizens applaud.  Titus. 
Kind Rome that hast thus lovingly reserved,  
The Cordial of mine age to glad my heart,  
Lavinia live, outlive thy father's days,  
And fames eternal date for virtues praise.  Marcus. 
Long live Lord Titus my beloved brother,  
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome.  Titus. 
Thanks gentle Tribune, Noble brother Marcus.  Marcus. 
And welcome Nephews from successful wars  
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame:  
Fair Lords, your fortunes are alike in all,  
That in your Country's service drew your swords,  
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,  
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness,  
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.  
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,  
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,  
Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust,  
This Palliament of white and spotless hue,  
And name thee in election for the Empire,  
With these our late deceased Emperors sons:  
Be Candidatus then and put it on,  
And help to set a head on headless Room.  Titus. 
A better head her glorious body fits,  
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:  
What should I done this Robe and trouble you?  
Be chosen with Proclamations to day,  
To morrow yield up rule, resign my life,  
And set abroad new business for you all.  
Room I have been thy soldier forty years,  
And led my Country's strength successfully,  
And buried one and twenty valiant sons  
Knighted in Field, slain manfully in Arms,  
In right and service of their Noble Country:  
Give me a staff of Honour for mine age,  
But not a sceptre to control the world,  
Upright he held it Lords that held it last.  Marcus. 
Titus thou shalt obtain & ask the Empery.  Saturni. 
Proud and ambitious Tribune canst thou tell.  Titus. 
Patience Prince Saturninus.  Saturninus. 
Romans' do me right.  
Patricians draw your swords and sheathe them not,  
Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor:  
Andronicus would thou were shipped to hell,  
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.  Lucius. 
Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good,  
That noble minded Titus means to thee.  Titus. 
Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee  
The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.  Bassianus. 
Andronicus I do not flatter thee,  
But honour thee and will do till I die:  
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends  
I will most thankful be, and thanks to men  
Of Noble minds, is honourable meed.  Titus. 
People of Rome, and people's Tribunes here,  
I ask your voices and your suffrages,  
Will ye bestow them friendly on Andronicus.  Tribunes. 
To gratify the good Andronicus,  
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,  
The people will accept whom he admits.  Titus. 
Tribunes I thank you, and this suit I make,  
That you create our emperors eldest son,  
Lord Saturnine: whose virtues will I hope,  
Reflect on Rome as Tytus Rays on earth,  
And ripen justice in this Common weal:  
Then if you will elect by my advise,  
Crown him and say, Long live our Emperor.  Marcus An. 
With voices and applause of every sort  
Patricians and Plebeians, we create  
Lord Saturninus Rome's great Emperor,  
And say Long live our Emperor Saturnine.  Saturnine. 
Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done,  
To us in our election this day,  
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,  
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:  
And for an onset Titus to advance,  
Thy name and honourable family,  
Lavinia will I make my Empress,  
Rome's Royal mistress, Mistress of my heart,  
And in the sacred Pathan her espouse:  
Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee.  Titus. 
It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match,  
I hold me highly Honoured of your Grace,  
And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine,  
King and Commander of our common weal,  
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 own,  
Mine honour's Ensigns humbled at thy feet.  Saturnine. 
Thanks Noble Titus' Father of my life,  
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts  
Rome shall record, and when I do forget  
The least of these unspeakable deserts,  
Romans forget your Fealty to me.  Titus. 
Now Madam are you prisoner to an Emperor.  
To him that for your honour and your state,  
Will use you Nobly, and your followers.  Saturnine. 
A goodly Lady trust me of the hue,  
That I would choose were I to choose a new:  
Clear up fair Queen that cloudy countenance,  
Though change 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,  
Lavinia you are not displeased with this.  Lavinia. 
Not I my Lord, sith true Nobility,  
Warrants these words in Princely courtesy.  Saturnine. 
Thanks sweet Lavinia, Romans let us go,  
Raunsomles here we set our prisoners free,  
Proclaim our Honour's Lords with Trump and Drum.  Bassianus. 
Lord Titus by your leave, this maid is mine.  Titus. 
How sir, are you in earnest than my Lord?  Bascianus. 
I Noble Titus and resolved withal,  
To do myself this reason and this right.  Marcus. 
Suum cuiqum is our Roman iustce,  
This Prince in justice seizeth but his own.  Lucius. 
And that he will, and shall if Lucius live.  Titus. 
Traitors avaunt, where is the emperors guard?  
Treason my Lord, Lavinia is surprised.  Saturnine. 
Surprised, by whom?  Bascianus. 
By him that justly may,  
Bear his betrothde from all the world away.  Mutius. 
Brothers, help to convey her hence away,  
And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.  Titus. 
Fellow my Lord, and I'll soon bring her back.  Mutius. 
My Lord you pass not here.  Titus. 
What villain boy, barst me my way in Rome?  Mutius. 
Help Lucius, help.  Lucius. 
My Lord you are unjust, and more than so,  
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.  Titus. 
Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine,  
My sons would never so dishonour me,  
Traitor restore Lavinia to the Emperor.  Lucius, 
Dead if you will, but not to be his wives  
That is another's lawful promised love.  Enter aloft the Emperor with Tamora and her two sons and Aron the moor. Emperor. 
No Titus, no, the Emperor needs her not,  
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:  
I'll trust by leisure, him that mocks me once,  
thou never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,  
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.  
Was none in Rome to make a stolen  
But Saturnine? Full well Andronicus  
Agree these deeds, with that proud brag of thine,  
That saidst I begged the Empire at thy hands.  Titus 
O monstrous, what reproachful words are these?  Saturn. 
But go thy ways, go give that changing piece,  
To him that flourished for her with his sword:  
A valiant son in law thou shalt enjoy,  
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,  
To ruffle in the Commonwealth of Rome.  Titus. 
These words are razors to my wounded heart.  Satur. 
And therefore lovely Tamora Queen of Goths,  
That like the stately Thebes 'mongst her Nymphs,  
Dost overshine the gallant'st Dames of Rome,  
If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,  
Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride,  
And will create thee Empress of Rome.  
Speak Queen of Goths dost thou applaud my choice?  
And here I swear by all the Roman Gods,  
Sith Priest and holy water are so near,  
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing  
In readiness for Hymeneus 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.  Tamora. 
And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear,  
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,  
She will a handmaid be to his desires,  
A loving Nurse, a Mother to his youth.  Sat. 
Ascend fair Queen: Panthean Lords accompany  
Your Noble Emperor and his lovely Bride,  
Sent by the Heavens for Prince Saturnine,  
Whose wisdom hath her Fortune conquered,  
There shall we consummate our spousal rites.  Exeunt Omnes. Titus. 
I am not bid to wait upon this bride,  
Titus when wert thou wont to walk alone,  
Dishonoured thus and challenged of wrongs.  Enter Marcus and Titus sons. Marcus. 
O Titus see: O see what thou hast done  
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.  Titus. 
No foolish Tribune, no: No son of mine,  
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed,  
That hath dishonoured all our Family,  
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons.  Lucius. 
But let us give him burial as becomes,  
Give Mucius burial with our brethren.  Titus. 
Traitors away, he rests not in this tomb:  
This monument five hundredth 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: so  
Bury him where you can he comes not here.  Marcus. 
My Lord this is impiety in you,  
My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him,  
He must be buried with his brethren.  Titus two sons speaks. 
And shall or him we will accompany.  Titus. 
And shall; what villain was it spoke that word?  Titus' son speaks. 
He that would vouch it in any place but here.  Titus. 
What would you bury him in my despite?  Marcus. 
No Noble Titus, but entreat of thee.  
To pardon Mutius and to bury him.  Titus. 
Marcus: Even thou hast stroke upon my Crest.  
And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded,  
My foes I do repute you every one,  
So trouble me no more, but get you gone.  3. Son. 
He is not with himself, let us withdraw.  2. Son. 
Not I till Mutius bones be buried.  The brother and the sons kneel. Marcus. 
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead.  2. son. 
Father, and in that name doth nature speak.  Titus. 
Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.  Marcus. 
Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,  Lucius. 
Dear father, soul and substance of us all.  Marcus 
Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter,  
His Noble Nephew here in virtues nest,  
That died in honour and lavinia's cause.  
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous:  
The Greeks upon advise did bury Ajax  
That slew himself: and wise Laertes son,  
Did graciously plead for his Funerals:  
Let not young Mutius than that was thy joy,  
Be bar his entrance here.  Titus. 
Rise Marcus, rise,  
The dismal'st day is this that ere I saw,  
To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome:  
Well bury him, and bury me the next.  they put him in the tomb. Lucius. 
There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends,  
Till we with Trophies do adorn thy tomb:  they all kneel and say, 
No man shed tears for Noble Mutius,  
He lives in fame, that died in virtues cause.  Exit all but Marcus and Titus. Marcus. 
My Lord to step out of these dreary dumps,  
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths,  
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome.  Titus. 
I know not Marcus, but I know it is.  
(Whether by devise or no, the heavens can tell.)  
Is she not then beholding to the man,  
That brought herefore this high good turn so fair.  Enter the Emperor, Tamora and her two sons, with the Moor at one door. Enter at the other door Bascianus and Lavinia, with others. Saturnine. 
So Bascianus, you have played your prize,  
God give you joy sir of your gallant Bride.  Bascianus. 
And you of yours my Lord, I say no more,  
Nor wish no less, and so I take my leave.  Saturnine. 
Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,  
Thou and thy faction shall repent this Rape.  Bassianus. 
Rape call you it my Lord to cease my own,  
My true betrothed love, and now my wife:  
But let the laws of Rome determine all,  
Mean while am I possessed of that is mine.  Saturnine. 
'tis good sir, you are very short with us.  
But if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.  Bascianus. 
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 own to Rome,  
This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus here,  
Is in opinion and in honour wronged,  
That in the rescue of Lavinia,  
With his own hand did slay his youngest son,  
Inzeale to you, and highly moved to wrath,  
To be controwld in that he frankly gave.  
Receive him then to favour Saturnine,  
That hath expressed himself in all his deeds,  
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.  Titus. 
Prince Bascianus leave to plead my deeds,  
'tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me,  
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,  
How I have loud and honoured Saturnine.  Tamora. 
My worthy Lord, if ever Tamora,  
Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine,  
Then hear me speak indifferently for all:  
And at my suit (sweet) pardon what is past.  Saturnine. 
What Madam be dishonoured openly,  
And basely put it up without revenge.  Tamora. 
Not so my Lord, the Gods of Rome forfend.  
I should be Author to dishonour you.  
But on mine honour dare I undertake,  
For good Lord Titus innocence in all,  
Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs:  
Then at my suit look graciously on him,  
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,  
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.  
My Lord: Be ruled by me, be won at last,  
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents,  
You are but newly planted in your Throne,  
Lest then the people, and Patricians too,  
Upon a just survey take Titus part,  
And so supplant you for ingratitude,  
Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin.  
Yield at entreats: and then let me alone,  
I'll find a day to massacre them all,  
And race their faction and their family,  
The cruel father, and his traitorous sons,  
To whom I sued for my dear sons 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 of thy angry frown.  Saturnine. 
Rise Titus rise, my Empress hath preauild.  Titus. 
I thank your majesty, and her my Lord,  
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.  Tamora. 
Titus I am incorporate in Rome,  
A Roman now adopted happily,  
And must advise the Emperor for his good,  
This day all quarrels die Andronicus.  
And let it be mine honour good my Lord,  
That I have reconciled your friends and you.  
For you Prince Bassianus I have past  
My word and promise to the Emperor,  
That you will be more mild and tractable.  
And fear not Lords, and you Lavinia,  
By my advise 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 mild ie as we might,  
Tendering our sister's honour and our own.  Marcus. 
That on mine honour here do I protest.  Saturnine. 
Aways, and talk not, trouble us no more●  Tamora. 
Nay, nay sweet Emperor, we must all be friends,  
The Tribune and his Nephews kneel for grace,  
I will not be denied, sweet heart look back.  Saturnine. 
Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brothers here,  
And at my lovely Tamoras 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 emperors Court can feast two Brides,  
You are my guest Lavinia and your friends:  
This day shall be a lovedaie Tamora.  Titus. 
To morrow and it please your Majesty,  
To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me,  
With horn and hound, we'll give your grace boniour.  Saturnine. 
Be it so Titus and gramercy too. Exeunt.  sound trumpets, manet Moor. Aron. 
Now climbeth Tamora Olympus top,  
Safe out of fortunes shot, and fits aloft,  
Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash,  
Advanced above pale envies threatening reach,  
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,  
And having gilded the Ocean with his beams,  
Gallops the Zodiac in his glistering Coach,  
And overlooks the highest piering hills.  
So Tamora.  
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,  
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown,  
Then Aron 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, fettered in amorous chains,  
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes,  
Than is Prometheus' tide 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 Semerimis, this Nymph,  
This Siren that will charm Rome's Saturnine,  
And see his shipwreck, and his Commonweals.  
Hollo, what storm is this?  Enter Chiron and Demetrius braving. Demetrius. 
Chiron thy years wants wit, thy wits wants edge,  
And manners to intrude where I am graced,  
And may for aught thou knowest affected be.  Chiron. 
Demetrius, thou dost overween in all,  
And so in this, to bear me down with braves,  
'tis not the difference of a year or two  
Makes me less gracious, or thee more fortunate:  
I am as able and as fit as thou,  
To serve, and to deserve my Mistress grace,  
And that my sword upon thee shall approve,  
And plead my passions for lavinia's love.  Moor. 
Clubs, Clubs, these lovers will not keep the peace.  Demetrius. 
Why boy, although our mother (unaduizd)  
Gave you a dancing Rapier by your side,  
Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends:  
Go too: have your lath glued within your sheath,  
Till you know better how to handle it.  Chiron. 
Mean while sir, with the little skill I have,  
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.  Demetrius. 
I boy, grow ye so brave? they draw.  Moor. 
Why how now Lords?  
So near the emperors Palace dare ye draw,  
And maintain such a quarrel openly?  
Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge,  
I would not for a million of gold,  
The cause were known to them it most concerns,  
Nor would your Noble Mother for much more,  
Be so dishonoured in the Court of Rome.  
For shame put up.  Demetrius. 
Not I till I have sheathed,  
My Rapier in his bosom, and withal  
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat,  
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.  Chiron. 
For that I am prepared, and full resolved,  
Fowl spoken Coward, that thunderest with thy tongue,  
And with thy weapon nothing darest perform.  Moor. 
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 lose,  
Or Bascianus so degenerate,  
That for her love such quarrels may be brought,  
Without controlment, justice, or revenge.  
Young Lords beware, and should the Empress know,  
This discords ground, the music would not please.  Chiron. 
I care not I, knew she and all the world,  
I love Lavinia more than all the world.  Demetrius. 
Youngling learn thou to make some meaner choice,  
Lavinia is thine elder brothers hope.  Moor. 
Why are ye mad? or know ye not in Rome,  
How furious and impatient they be,  
And cannot brook competitors in love?  
I tell you Lords, you do but plot your deaths,  
By this devise.  Chiron. 
Aron, A thousand deaths would I propose,  
To achieve her whom I love.  Aron. 
To achieve her how?  Demetrius. 
Why makes thou it so strange?  
She is a woman, therefore may be wood,  
She is a woman, therefore may be won,  
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loud.  
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 Bascianus be the emperors brother,  
Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge.  Moor. 
I and as good as Saturninus may.  Demetrius. 
Then why should he despair that knows to court it,  
With words, fair looks, and liberality.  
What hast not thou full often struck a do,  
And borne her cleanly by the Keeper's nose?  Moor. 
Why then it seems some certain snatch, or so  
Would serve your turns.  Chiron. 
I so the turn were served.  Demetrius. 
Aron thou hast hit it.  Moor. 
Would you had hit it too,  
Then should not we be tired with this ado.  
Why hark ye, hark ye, and are you such fools  
To square for this: would it offend you then  
That both should speed.  Chiron. 
Faith not me.  Demetrius. 
Nor me so I were one.  Aron. 
For shame be friends, and join for that you jar,  
'T is 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, Bascianus love.  
A speedier course this 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 troup:  
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 do,  
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 withal what we intent,  
And she shall file our engines with advise,  
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,  
But to your wishes hight advance you both.  
The emperors Court is like the house of fame,  
The Palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears:  
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull:  
There speak, and strike brave boys, and take your turns,  
There serve your lust shadowed from heavens eye,  
And revel in lavinia's treasury.  Chiron. 
Thy counsel Lad smells of no cowardice.  Demetrius. 
Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream,  
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits,  
Per Stigia, per manes Vebor.  Exeunt. Enter Titus Andronicus, and his three sons. making a noise with hounds & horns. Titus. 
The hunt is up the Moon 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 emperors person carefully:  
I have been troubled in my sleep this night,  
But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.  Here a cry of Hounds, and wind horns in a peal: then enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bascianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their Attendants. Titus. 
Many good morrows to your Majesty,  
Madam to you as many, and as good,  
I promised your Grace a Hunter's peal.  Saturnine. 
And you have rung it lustily my Lords,  
Somewhat too early for new married Ladies.  Bascianus. 
Lavinia, how say you?  Lavi. 
I say no: I have been broad awake, two hours & more,  Saturnine. 
Come on then, horse and Chariots let us have,  
And to our sport: Madam, now shall ye see,  
Our Roman hunting.  Marcus. 
I have Dogs my Lord,  
Will rouse the proudest Panther in the Chase,  
And climb the highest promontary top.  Titus. 
And I have horse will follow where the game  
Makes way, and runs like swallows o'er the plain.  Demetrius. 
Chiron we hunt not we, with horse nor hound  
But hope to pluck a dainty Do to ground. Exeunt.  Enter Aron alone. Moor. 
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 cunning lie 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  Enter Tamora alone to the Moor. Tamora. 
My lovely Aron, wherefore look'st thou sad,  
When every thing dorh make a gleefull boast?  
The birds chant melody on every bush,  
The snakes lies rolled in the cheerful sun,  
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,  
And make a chequered shadow on the ground:  
Under their sweet shade, Aron 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 after conflict such as was supposed  
The wandering Prince and Dido once enjoyed,  
When with a happy storm they were surprised,  
And curtaind with a counsaile-keeping Cave,  
We may each wreathed in the others arms,  
(Our pastimes done,) possess a golden slumber,  
While hounds and horns, and sweet melodious birds  
Be unto us as is a nurses song  
Of Lullaby, to bring her Babe a sleep.  Moor. 
Madam, though Venus govern your desires,  
Saturn is dominator over mine:  
What signifies my deadly standing eye,  
My silence, ann my cloudy melancholy,  
My fleece of wollie hair that now uncurles,  
Even as an Adder when she doth unrowle,  
To do some fatal execution.  
No Madam, these are no venerial signs,  
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,  
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.  
Hark Tamora the Empress of my soul,  
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,  
This is the day of doom for Bassianus,  
His Philomela must lose her tongue to day,  
Thy sons make pillage of her chasttitie,  
And wash their hands in Bascianus 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 lbootie,  
Which dreads not yet their lives destruction.  Enter Bascianus, and Lavinia. Tamora. 
Ah my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life.  Moor. 
No more great Empress, Bascianus comes,  
Be cross with him, and I'll go fetch thy sons  
To back thy quarrels what so ere they be.  Bascianus. 
who have we here? Rome's Royal Empress,  
Unfurnished of her well beseeming troup?  
Or is it Diana habited like her,  
Who hath abandoned her holy groves,  
To see the general hunting in this Forest?  Tamora. 
Saucy controller of my private steps,  
Had I the power that some say Diana had,  
Thy temples should be planted presently,  
With horns as was Actaeon's, and the hounds,  
Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs,  
Unmannerly intruder as thou art.  Lavinea. 
Under your patience gentle Empress,  
'tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning,  
And to be doubted that your Moor and you,  
Are singled forth to try thy experimen:  
jove shield your husband from his hounds to day,  
'tis pity they should take him for a Stag.  Bassianus. 
Believe me Queen your swarthy Cymerion,  
Doth make your honour of his body's hue,  
Spotted, detested, and abominable.  
Why are you sequestered from all your train,  
Dismounted from your snow white goodly steed,  
And wandered hither to an obscure plot,  
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor,  
If soul desire had not conducted you?  Lavinia. 
And being intercepted in your sport,  
Great reason that my Noble Lord be rated  
For sausines, I pray you let us hence,  
And let her joy her Raven culloured love,  
This valie fits the purpose passing well.  Bass. 
The King my brother shall have notice of this.  
Lavinia I, for these slips have made him noted long,  
Good King to be so mightily abused.  Queen. 
Why I have patience to endure all this.  Enter Chiron and Demetrius. Demet. 
How now dear sovereign, and our gracious Mother,  
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?  Queen. 
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 summery yet forlorn and lean,  
Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe.  
Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds,  
Unless the nightly Owl or fatal Raven:  
And when they showed me this abhorred pit,  
They told me here at dead time of the night,  
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,  
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,  
Would make such fearful and confused cries,  
As any mortal body hearing it  
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.  
No sooner had they told this hellish tale,  
But straight they told me they would bind me here,  
Unto the body of a dismal Ewghe,  
And leave me to this miserable death.  
And then they called me foul adulteress,  
Lavicious 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 hence forth called my Children,  Demetrius. 
This is a witness that I am thy son. stab him.  
Chi And this for me struck home, to show my strength.  Lavinia. 
I come Semeranis, nay barbarous Tamora,  
For no name fits thy nature but thy own.  Tamora. 
Give me the poniard, you shall know my boys,  
Your Mother's hand shall right your Mother's wrong.  Demetrius. 
Stay Madam here is more belongs to her,  
First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw:  
This minion stood upon her chastity,  
Upon her Nuptial vow, her loyalty,  
And with that painted hope, braves your mightenes,  
And shall she carry this unto her grave.  Chiron. 
And if she do, I would I were an eunuch,  
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,  
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.  Tamora. 
But when ye have the honey we desire,  
Let not this wasp out live us both to sting,  Chiron. 
I warrant you madam we will make that sure:  
Come Mistress now perforce we will enjoy,  
That nice preserved honesty of yours.  Lavinia. 
Oh Tamora, thou bearest a woman's face.  Tamora. 
I will not hear her speak away with her.  Lavinia. 
Sweet Lords entreat her hear me but a word.  Demetrius. 
Listen fair Madam let it be your glory  
To see her tears, but be your heart to them:  
As unrelenting Flint to drops of rain.  Lavinia. 
When did the Tigers young ones teach the dam,  
Oh do not learn her wrath: she taught it thee,  
The Milk thou suckest from her did turn to Marble,  
Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny,  
Yet every Mother breeds not sons a like,  
Do thou entreat her show a woman's pity.  Chiron. 
What wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?  Lavinia. 
'tis true the Raven doth not hatch a Lark,  
Yet have I hard, Oh could I find it now,  
The Lion moved with pity did endure,  
To have his Princely paws pard all away:  
Some say that Ravens foster forlorn children,  
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:  
Oh be to me though thy hard heart say no,  
Nothing so kind but something pitiful.  Tamora. 
I know not what it means, away with her.  Lavinia, 
Oh 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 years.  Tamora. 
Hadst thou in person near offended me,  
Even for his sake am I pitiless.  
Remember boys I powered forth tears in vain,  
To save your brother from the sacrifice,  
But fierce Andronicus would not relent,  
Therefore away with her, and use her as you will,  
The worse to her the better loved of me.  Lavinia. 
Oh Tamora be called a Gentle Queen,  
And with thine own hands kill me in this place,  
For 'tis not life that I have begged so long,  
Poor I was slain when Bascianus died.  Tamora. 
What beg'st thou then fond woman let me go?  Lavinia. 
'tis present death I beg, and one thing more,  
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell,  
Oh keep me from there worse than kill lust,  
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,  
Where never man's eye may behold my body,  
Do this and be a charitable murderer.  Tamora. 
So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee,  
No let them satisfy their lust on thee.  Demetrius. 
Away for thou hast staid us here too long.  Lavinia. 
No grace, no womanhood, ah beastly creature,  
The blot and enemy to our general name,  
Confusion fall  Chiron. 
Nay then I'll stop your mouth, bring thou her husband,  
This is the hole where Aron bid us hide him.  Tamora. 
Farewell my sons, see that you make her sure,  
Near let my heart know merry cheer indeed,  
Till all the Andronicie be made away:  
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,  
And let my spleenful sons this Trull deflower.  Enter Aron with two of Titus sons. 
Come on my Lords the better foot before,  
Strait will I bring you to the loathsome pit,  
Where I espied the Panther fast a sleep.  Quintus. 
My sight is very dull what ere it bodes.  Mart. 
And mine I promise you, were it not for shame,  
Well could I leave our sport to sleep a while.  Quintus. 
What art thou fallen what subtle hole is this,  
Whose mouth is covered with rude growing briars,  
Upon whose leaves are drops of new shed blood,  
As fresh as morning dew distilled on flowers,  
A very fatal place it seems to me,  
Speak brother hast thou hurt thee with the fall?  Martius. 
Oh brother with the dismal'st object hurt,  
That ever eye with sight made heart lament.  Aron. 
Now will I fetch the King to find them here,  
That he thereby may have a likely guess, Exit.  
How these were they, that made away his brother.  Martius. 
Why dost not comfort me and help me out  
From this unhollow, and blood stained hole.  Quintus. 
I am surprised with an uncouth fear,  
A chilling sweat oreruns my trembling joints,  
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.  Martius. 
To prove thou hast a true divining heart,  Aron, 
and thou look down into this den,  
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.  Quintus. 
Aron is gone, and my compassionate heart,  
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold,  
The thing where at it trembles by surmise:  
Oh tell me who it is, for near till now,  
Was I a child to fear I know not what.  Martius. 
Lord Bassianus lies bereaved 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 Priamus,  
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 Ocitus misty mouth.  Quint. 
Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out,  
Or wanting strength to do thee so much good,  
I may be plucked into the swallowing womb,  
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus grave:  
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brinck,  Martius. 
Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.  Quint. 
Thy hand once more, I will not lose again,  
Till thou art here a fit or I below:  
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.  Enter the Emperor and Aron, 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.  Mart. 
We know not where you left them all a live,  
But out alas, here have we found him dead.  Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius'. Tamora. 
Where is my Lord the King?  King. 
Here Tamora, though grieved with kill grief.  Tamora. 
Where is thy brother Bassianus?  King. 
Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound,  
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.  Tamora. 
Then all too late I bring this fatal writ.  
The complot of this timeless Tragedy,  
And wonder greatly that man's face can fold,  
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.  She giveth Saturnine a letter. Saturninus reads the letter. 
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 over shades the mouth of that same pit,  
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus,  
Do this and purchase us thy lasting friends.  King. 
Oh 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.  Aron. 
My gracious Lord here is the bag of gold.  King. 
Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind,  
Have here bereft my brother of his life:  
Sirs drag them from the pit unto the prison,  
There let them bide until we have devised,  
Some never hard of torturing pain for them.  Tam. 
What are they in this pit, Oh 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 faults be proud in them.  King. 
If it be proud, 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 Father's reverent tomb I vow,  
They shall be ready at your highness will,  
To answer their suspicion with their lives.  King. 
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.  Enter the empress sons with Lavinia, her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, & ravished. Deme. 
So now go tell and if thy tongue can speak,  
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravished thee.  Chi. 
Writ down thy mind bewray thy meaning so,  
And if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.  Deme. 
See how with signs and tokens she can scroll.  Chi. 
Go home, call for sweet water wash thy hands.  Demet. 
She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash '  
And so let's leave her to her silent walks.  
Chi. And 'twere my cause, I should go hang myself.  Dmet. 
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the corde●  Exeunt. Enter Marcus from hunting. 
Who is this, my Niece that flies away so fast,  
cozen a word, where is your husband:  
If I do dream would all my wealth would wake me.  
If I do wake some Planet strike me down,  
That I may slumber an eternal sleep.  
Speak gentle Niece, what stern ungentle hands,  
Hath lopped, and hewed, and made thy body bare,  
Of her two branches those sweet Ornaments,  
Whose circling shadows, Kings have sought to sleep in,  
And might not gain so great a happiness  
As half thy love: Why dost not speak to me?  
Alas, a crimson River of warm blood,  
Like to a bubbling Fountain stirred with wind,  
Doth rise and fall between thy Rosed lips,  
Coming and going with thy honey breath.  
But sure some Tereus hath deflowered thee,  
And lest thou shouldst detect them cut thy tongue.  
Ah now thou turnst away thy face for shame,  
And notwithstanding all this loss of blood,  
As from a Conduit with their issuing spouts,  
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face,  
Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.  
Shall I speak for thee, shall I say 'tis so.  
Oh that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast,  
That I might rail at him to ease my mind.  
Sorrow concealed like an Oven stoppt,  
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.  
Fair Philomela, why she but lost her tongue,  
And in a tedious sampler sowed her mind.  
But lovely Niece, that mean is cut from thee,  
A craftier Tereus, cozen hast thou met,  
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,  
That could have better sowed than Philomela.  
Oh had the monster seen those Lily hands,  
Tremble like aspen leaves upon a Lute,  
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,  
He would not then have touched them for his life.  
Or had he heard the heavenly Harmony,  
Which that sweet tongue hath made,  
He would have dropped his knife and fell a sleep,  
As Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feet.  
Come let us go, and make thy father blind,  
For such a sight will blind a father's eye.  
One hours 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,  
Oh could our mourning ease thy misery.  Exeunt. Enter the judges and Senators with Titus' two sons 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 Rooms great quarrel shed,  
For all the frosty nights that I have watched,  
And for these bitter tears which now you see,  
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks,  
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,  
Whose souls is not corrupted as 'tis thought.  
For two and twenty sons I never wept,  
Because they died in honours lofty bed,  Andronicus lieth down, and the judges pass by him. 
For these, Tribunes, in the dust I writ  
My hearts deep languor, and my souls sad tears:  
Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite,  
My sons sweet blood will make it shame and blush:  
O earth I will be friend thee more with rain,  
That shall distill from these two ancient ruins,  
Than youthful April shall with all his showers.  
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still,  
In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow,  
And keep eternal spring time out hy face,  
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons blood.  Enter Lucius with his weapon drawn. 
Oh reverent Tribunes, Oh 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. 
Oh 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 tongue's 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 prononuncst,  
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 pray, 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-harted-boy, arise and look upon her,  
Speak Lavinea, what accursed hand,  
Hath made thee handles 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 effectles use.  
Now all the service I require of them,  
Is that the one will help to cut the other.  
'tis well Lavinia that thou hast no hands,  
For hands to do Rome service is but vain.  Lucius. 
Speak gentle sister, who hath martyred thee.  Marcus. 
Oh that delightful engine of her thoughts,  
That blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence,  
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,  
Where like a sweet melodious bird it sung,  
Sweet varied notes enchanting every ear.  Lucius. 
Oh say thou for her, who hath done this deed?  Marcus. 
Oh thus I found her straying in the Park,  
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the Dear  
That hath received some unrecuring wound.  Titus. 
It was my Dear, and he that wounded her,  
Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:  
For now I stand as one upon a rock,  
Environed with a wilderness of sea,  
Who marks the waxing tide, grow wave by wave,  
Expecting ever when some envious surge,  
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.  
This way to death my wretched sons are gone,  
Here stands my other son a banished man,  
And here my brother weeping at my woes:  
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn  
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.  
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,  
It would have madded me: what shall I do,  
Now I behold thy lively body so?  
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears,  
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyred thee:  
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death  
Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.  
Look Marcus, Ah son Lucius look on her,  
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears  
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew,  
Upon a gathered Lily almost withered.  Marcus. 
Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband,  
Perchance, because she knows them innocent.  Titus. 
If they did kill thy husband then be joyful,  
Because the Law hath ta'en revenge on them.  
No, no, they would not do so fowl a deed,  
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.  
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips,  
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:  
Shall thy good Uncle, and thy brother Lucius,  
And thou, and I, sit round about some Fountain,  
Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks,  
How they are stained like meadows yet not dry,  
With mierie 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 devise of further misery,  
To make us wondered at in time to come.  Lucius. 
Sweet father cease your tears, for at your grief  
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.  Marcus. 
Patience dear niece, good Titus dry thine eyes.  Titus. 
Ah Marcus, Marcus, Brother well I wot,  
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,  
For thou poor man, hast drowned it with thine own.  Lucius. 
Ah my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.  Titus. 
Mark Marcus, mark, I understand her signs,  
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say  
That to her Brother, which I said to thee.  
His napkin with her true tears all bewet,  
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.  
Oh what a sympathy of woe is this,  
As far from help, as limbo is from bliss.  Enter Aron the Moor alone. Moor. 
Titus Andronicus, My Lord the Emperor,  
Sends thee this word, that if thou love thy sons,  
Let Marcus, Lucius', or thyself old Titus,  
Or any one of you, chop off your hand  
And send it to the King, he for the same,  
will send thee hither both thy sons alive,  
And that shall be the ransom for their fault.  Titus. 
Oh gracious Emperor, Oh gentle Aron,  
Did ever Raven sing so like a Lark,  
That gives sweet tidings of the suns uprise?  
With all my heart, I'll send the Emperor my hand,  
Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off?  Lucius. 
Stay father, for that Noble hand of thine,  
That hath thrown down so many enemies,  
Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn,  
My youth can better spare my blood than you,  
And therefore mine shall save my brother's lives.  Marcus. 
which of your hands hath not defended Rome,  
And reared aloft the bloody Battleaxe,  
writing destruction on the enemy's Castle?  
Oh 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.  Moore. 
Nay come agree whose hand shall go along,  
For fear they die before their pardon come.  Marcus. 
My hand shall go.  Lucius. 
By heaven it shall not go.  Titus. 
Sirs strive no more, such withered herbs as these  
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.  Lucius. 
Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,  
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.  Marcus. 
And for our father's sake, and mother's care,  
Now let me show a brother's love to thee.  Titus. 
Agree between you, I will spare my hand.  Lucius. 
Then I'll go fetch an Axe.  Marcus. 
But I will use the Axe. Exeunt.  Titus. 
Come hither Aron, I'll deceive them both,  
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.  Moor. 
If that be called deceit, I will be honest,  
And never whilst I live deceive men so:  
But I'll deceive you in another sort,  
And that you'll say ere half an hour pass.  He cuts of Titus hand. Enter Lucius and Marcus again. Titus. 
Now stay your strife, what shall be, is dispatched.  
Good Aron give his Majesty my hand,  
Tell him it was a hand that warded him  
From thousand dangers, bid him bury it,  
More hath it merited, that let it have:  
As for my sons, say I account of them,  
As jewels purchased at an easy price,  
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.  Aron. 
I go Andronicus, and for thy hand,  
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.  
Their heads I mean: Oh how this villainy,  
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it.  
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,  
Aron will have his soul black like his face. Exit.  Titus. 
Oh 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 wouldst thou kneel with me?  
Do then dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers,  
Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,  
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds,  
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.  Marcus. 
Oh Brother speak with possibility,  
And do not break into these deep extremes.  Titus. 
Is not my sorrow deep having no bottom?  
Then be my passions bottomless with them.  Marcus. 
But yet let reason govern thy lament.  Titus. 
If there were reason for these miseries,  
Then into limits could I bind my woes:  
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?  
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,  
Threatening the welkin with his bigswolne face?  
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?  
I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth flow:  
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:  
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs,  
Then must my earth with her continual tears,  
Become a deluge: overflowed and drowned:  
For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes,  
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.  
Then give me leave, for losers will have leave,  
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.  Enter a messenger with two heads and a hand. Messenger. 
Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid,  
For that good hand thou sent'st the Emperor:  
Here are the heads of thy two Noble sons,  
And here's thy hand in scorn to thee sent back:  
Thy grief, their sports: Thy resolution mocked:  
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,  
More than remembrance of my father's death.  Marcus. 
Now let hot AEtna 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.  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 breath.  Marcus. 
Alas poor heart, that kiss is comfortless,  
As frozen water to a starved snake.  Titus. 
When will this fearful slumber have an end?  Mar. 
Now farewell flattery, die Andronicus,  
Thou dost not slumber, see thy two sons heads,  
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled Daughter here:  
Thy other banished son with this dear sight,  
Struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother I,  
Even like a stony image cold and numb.  
Ah now no more will I control thy griefs,  
Rend 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.  M. 
Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour.  Titus. 
Why I have not another tear to shed;  
Besides this sorrow is an enemy,  
And would usurp upon my watery eyes,  
And make them blind with tributary tears.  
Then which way shall I find Revenges Cave,  
For these two heads do seem to speak to me  
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss,  
Till all these mischiefs be returned again,  
Even in their throats that hath committed them.  
Come let me see what task I have to do,  
You heavy people circle me about.  
That I may turn me to each one of you,  
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs,  
The vow is made. Come brother take a head,  
And in this hand the other will I bear,  
And Lavinia thou shalt be employed in these Arms,  
Bear thou my hand sweet wench between thy teeth:  
As for thee boy, go get thee from my sight,  
Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay,  
High 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. Lucius. 
Farewell Andronicus my Noble Father,  
The woefulst 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 Empresses,  
Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his Queen.  
Now will I to the Goths and raise a power,  
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.  Exit Lucius. Enter Lucius' son and Lavinia running after him, and the Boy flies from her with his Books under his Arme. Enter Titus and Marcus. Puer. 
Help Grandsire help, my Aunt Lavinia,  
Follows me every where I know not why.  
Good Uncle Marcus see how swift she comes,  
Alas sweet Aunt I know not what you mean.  Marcus. 
Stand by me Lucius, do not fear thine Aunt.  Titus. 
She loves thee boy too well to do thee harm.  Puer. 
I when my Father was in Rome she did.  M. 
What means my Niece Lavinia by these signes?  Tit. 
Fear her not Lucius, somewhat doth she mean,  
See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee:  
Some whither would she have the egoe with her.  
A boy, Cornelia never with more care,  
Red to her sons than she hath red to thee,  
Sweet Poetry and Tully's Orator:  
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus.  Puer. 
My Lord I know not I, nor can I guess,  
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:  
For I have heard my Grandsire say full oft,  
Extremity of grieves would make men mad.  
And I have red 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 ere my Mother did,  
And would not but infurie 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.  Mar. 
Lucius' I will.  Titus. 
How now Lavinia, Marcus what means this?  
Some book there is that she desires to see:  
Which is it girl of these, open them boy,  
But thou art deeper read and better skilled,  
Come and take choice of all my library,  
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens  
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.  
Why lifts she up her Arms in sequence thus?  M. 
I think she means that there were more than one  
Confederate in the fact, I more there was:  
Or else to heaven, she heaves them for revenge.  Titus. 
Lucius' what book is that she tosseth so.  Puer. 
Grandsire 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis,  
My Mother gave it me.  Marcus. 
For love of her that's gone,  
Perhaps she could it from among the rest.  Titus. 
Soft so busily she turns the leaves,  
Help her, what would she find? Lavinia shall I read?  
This is the tragic tale of Philomela,  
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape,  
And rape I fear, was root of thy annoy,  Marcus. 
See brother see, note how she coats the leaves,  Titus. 
Lavinia wert thou thus surprised sweet girl?  
Ravished and wronged as Phlomela was,  
Frocd in the ruthless Vast and gloomy woods;  
See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt,  
(O had we never, never hunted there,)  
Patternd by that the Poet here describes,  
By nature made for murders and for rapes,  Mar. 
O why should nature build so fowl a den.  
Unless the God's delight in Tragedies,  Titus. 
Give signs sweet girl, for here are none but friends,  
What Roman Lord it was durst do the deed?  
Or slonke not Saturnine as Tarquin erst,  
That left the Camp to sin in Lucrece bed  Marc. 
Sat down sweet Niece, brother sit down by me,  
Apollo, Pallas, jove or Mercury,  
Inspire me that I may this treason find,  
My Lord look here, look here Lavinia,  He writes his name with his staff and guides it with feet and mouth. 
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:  
Writ thou good niece, and here display at last,  
What God will have discovered for revenge,  
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,  
That we may know the traitors and the truth,  She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps and writes. 
Oh do ye read my Lord what she hath writ,  
Stuprum, Chiron, Dmetrius.  Marcus. 
What, what, the lustful sons of Tamora,  
Performers of this heinous bloody deed.  Titus. 
Magni Dominator poli,  
Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?  Marcus. 
Oh calm thee gentle Lord, although I know  
There is enough written upon this earth,  
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,  
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims,  
My Lord kneel down with me, Lavinia kneel,  
And kneel sweet boy, the Roman Hectors  
And swear with me as with the woeful fear,  
And father of that chaste dishonoured Dame,  
Lord junius Brutus swear for Lucrece rape,  
That we will prosecute by good advice  
Mortal revenge upon these Traitorous Goths,  
And see their blood or die with this reproach.  Titus. 
'tis sure enough, and you knew how,  
But if you hunt these Bear whelps than 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 Sibels leaves a broad,  
And whereas our lesson then, boy what say you?  Puer. 
I say my Lord that if I were a man,  
Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe,  
For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome.  Marcus 
I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft,  
For his ungrateful Country done the like.  Puer. 
And Uncle so will I, and if I live.  Titus. 
Come go with me into mine armory,  
Lucius I 'll fit thee, and withal my boy  
Shall carry from me to the empress sons,  
Presents that I intent to send them both:  
Come, come, thou'lt do my message wilt thou not?  Puer. 
I with my dagger in their bosoms Grandsire.  Titus. 
No boy not so, I'll teach thee another course,  
Lavinia come, Marcus look to my house,  
Lucius' and I'll go brave it at the Court,  
I marry will we sir, and we'll be waited on. Exeunt.  Marcus. 
O heavens, can you hear a goodman groan  
And not relent, or not compassion him?  
Marcus attend him in his ecstasy,  
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,  
Than foe-men's marks upon his battered shield,  
But yet so just, that he will not revenge,  
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus. Exit.  Enter Aron, Chiron, and Demetrius' 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.  Aron. 
I some mad message from his mad Grandfather.  Puer. 
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.  Puer. 
That you are both discipherd, that's the news,  
For villains marked with rape. May it please you,  
My Grandsire well advised hath sent by me,  
The goodliest weapons of his armory,  
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, when ever you have need,  
You may be armed and appointed well,  
And so I leave you both: Like bloody villains. Exit.  Demetri. 
what's here? a scroll, and written round about,  
Let's see,  
Integer vitae scelerisque purus, non eget mauri iaculis nee arcu.  Chiron. 
O 'tis a verse in Horace I know it well,  
I read it in the Grammar long ago.  Moor. 
I 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 gilt,  
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,  
That wound beyond their feeling to the quick:  
But were our witty Empress well a foot,  
She would applaud Andronicus conceit,  
But let her rest in her unrest a while.  
And now young Lords, wast 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 brothers hearing.  Demetrius. 
But me more good to see so great a Lord,  
Basely in sinuate and send us gifts.  Aron. 
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.  Aron. 
Here lacks but your mother for to say Amen.  Chiron. 
And that would she for twenty thousand more.  Deme. 
Come let us go and pray to all the Gods,  
For our beloved mother in her pains.  Aron. 
Pray to the devils, the Gods have given us over.  Trumpet's sound. Demet. 
Why do the emperors trumpets flourish thus.  Chi. 
Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son.  Demetrius. 
Soft who comes here.  Enter Nurse with a black a moor child. Nurse. 
God morrow Lords, O tell me did you see Aron the Moor.  Aron. 
Well, more or less, or near a whit at all,  
Here Aron is, and what with Aron now.  Nurse. 
Oh gentle Aron we are all undone,  
Now help, or woe betid thee evermore.  Aron. 
Why what a caterwauling dost thou keep,  
what dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms?  Nur. 
O that which I would hide from heavens eye,  
Our empress shame and stately Rome's disgrace,  
She is delivered Lords she is delivered.  Aron. 
To whom.  Nur. 
I mean she is brought a bed.  Aron. 
Well god give her good rest, what hath he sent her?  Nurse. 
A devil.  A. 
Why then she is the devils Dam, a joyful issue.  N. 
A joyle, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue,  
Here is the babe as loathsome as a toad,  
Amongst the fair fast breeders of our clime,  
The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,  
And bids thee christian it with thy dagger's point.  A. 
Zounds ye whore, is black so base a hue?  
Sweet blows you are a beauteous blossom sure.  Deme. 
villain what hast thou done?  A. 
That which thou canst not undo.  Chiron. 
Thou hast undone our mother.  Aron. 
Villain I have done thy mother.  Deme. 
And therein hellish dog thou hast undone her,  
Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice,  
Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend.  Chi. 
It shall not live,  Aron. 
It shall not die.  Nurse. 
Aron it must, the mother wils it so.  Aron. 
What must it Nurse? then let no man but I.  
Do execution on my flesh and blood.  Demet. 
I'll broach the tadpole on my Rapier's point,  
Nurse give it me, my sword shall soon dispatch it.  Aron. 
Sooner this sword shall blow thy bowels up,  
Stay murderous villains will you kill your brother?  
Now by the burning tapors of the sky,  
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,  
He dies upon my Semitars sharp point,  
That touches this my first borne son and heir:  
I tell you younglings, not Enceladus,  
With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood,  
Nor great Alciades, nor the God of war,  
Shall cease 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 swans 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.  Demetrius. 
Will't thou betray thy Noble Mistress thus:  Aron. 
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.  Demetrius. 
By this our mother is for ever shamed.  Chiron. 
Rome will despise her for this foul escape.  Nurse. 
The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.  Chiron. 
I blush to think upon this ignomy.  Aron. 
Why there's the Privilege your beauty bears:  
Fie treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing  
The close enacts and counsels of thy 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 that first gave life to you,  
And from your womb where you imprisoned were,  
He is infraunchised, and come to light:  
Nay he is your brother by the surer side,  
Although my seal be stamped in his face.  Nurse. 
Aron, what shall I say unto the Empress.  Demetrius. 
Advise thee Aron, what is to be done,  
And we will all subscribe to thy advise:  
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.  Aron. 
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.  Demetrius. 
How many women saw this child of his?  Aron. 
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 Aron storms:  
But say again, how many saw the child?  Nurse. 
Cornelia the Midwife, and myself,  
And no one else but the delivered Empress.  Aron. 
The Empress, the Midwife, and yourself,  
Two may keep counsel when the three's away:  
Go to the Empress, tell her this I said. He kills her.  
Week, week, so cries a Pig prepared to the spit.  Deme. 
What meanest thou Aron, wherefore didst thou this?  Aron. 
O Lord sir, 'tis a deed of policy,  
Shall she live to betray this gilt of ours?  
A long tongude babbling Gossip, No Lords, no:  
And now be it known to you my full intent.  
Not far, one Muliteus my Countryman  
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed,  
His child is like to her, fair as you are:  
Go pack with him, and 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 emperors 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 presently to me.  
The Midwife and the Nurse well made away,  
Then let the Lady's tattle what they please.  Chi. 
Aron, I see thou wilt not trust the air with secrets.  Demetrius. 
For this care of Tamora,  
Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee. Exeunt.  Aron. 
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 thicke-lipt-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 Campe. Exit.  Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius', and other gentlemen with bows, and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the ends of them. Titus. 
Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way,  
Sir boy let me see your Archery,  
Look ye draw home enough and 'tis there strait,  
Terras Astreáreliquit, be you remembered 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,  
What time I threw the people's suffrages  
On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.  
Go get you gone, and pray be careful all,  
And leave you not a man of war unsearched,  
This wicked Emperor may have shipped her hence,  
And kinsmen than we may go pipe for justice.  Marcus. 
O Publius, is not this a heavy case  
To see thy Noble Uncle thus distract?  Publius. 
Therefore my Lords it highly us concerns,  
By day and night t'attend him carefully:  
And feed his humour kindly as we may,  
Till time beget some careful remedy.  Marcus. 
Kinsmen 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.  Titus. 
Publius' how now, how now my Masters,  
What have you met with her?  Publius. 
No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word,  
If you will have revenge from hell you shall,  
Marry for justice she is so employed,  
He thinks with jove in heaven, or some where else,  
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.  Titus. 
He doth me wrong to feed me with delays,  
I'll dive into the burning lake below,  
And pull her out of Acaron by the heels.  
Marcus we are but shrubs, no Cedars we,  
No big-boand-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's no justice in earth nor hell,  
We will solicit heaven and move the Gods,  
To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs:  
Come to this gear, you are a good Archer Marcus,  He gives them the Arrows. 
Ad iovem, that's for you, here ad Apollonem,  
Ad Martem, that's for myself,  
Here boy to Pallas, here to Mercury,  
To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine,  
You were as good to shoot against the wind.  
Too it boy, Marcus lose when I bid,  
Of my word I have written to effect,  
there's not a God left unsollicited.  Marcus. 
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court,  
We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.  Titus. 
Now Masters draw, Oh well said Lucius,  
Good boy in virgo's lap, give it Pallas.  Marcus. 
My Lord, I aim a mile beyond the Moon,  
Your letter is with jubiter by this.  Titus. 
Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?  
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus horns.  Marcus. 
This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot  
The Bull being galled, gave Aries such a knock,  
That down fell both the Rams horns in the Court,  
And who should find them but the empress villain:  
She laughed, and told the Moor he should not choose,  
But give them to his Master for a present.  Titus. 
Why there it goes, God give his Lordship joy.  Enter the Clown with a basket and two pigeons in it. Clown. 
News, news from heaven,  
Marcus the Post is come.  Titus. 
Sirrah what tidings, have you any letters,  
Shall I have justice, what says jubiter?  Clown. 
Ho the Gibbetmaker? He says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.  Titus. 
But what says jubiter I ask thee?  Clown. 
Alas sir, I know not jubiter,  
I never drank with him in all my life.  Titus. 
Why villain art not thou the Carrier.  Clown. 
I of my pigeons sir, nothing else.  Titus. 
Why didst thou not come from heaven?  Clown. 
From heaven, alas sir, I never came there,  
God forbidden 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 Emperals' men.  Marcus. 
Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your Oration, and let him deliver the pigeons to the Emperor from you.  Titus. 
Tell me, can you deliver an Oration to the Emperor with a grace.  Clown. 
Nay truly sir, I could never say grace in all my life.  Titus. 
Sirrah come hither, make no more ado,  
But give your pigeons to the Emperor,  
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands,  
Hold, hold, mean while here's money for thy charges,  
Give me pen and ink.  
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a Supplication?  Clown. 
I sir.  Titus. 
Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand sir, see you do it bravely.  Clown. 
I warrant you sir, let me alone.  Titus. 
Sirrah hast thou a knife? Come let me see it.  
Here Marcus, fold it in the Oration,  
For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant.  
And when thou hast given it to the Emperor,  
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.  Clown. 
God be with you sir, I will. Exit.  Titus. 
Come Marcus let us go, Publius' follow me.  Exeunt. Euter Emperor and Empress and her two sons, the Emperor brings the Arrows in his hand that Titus shot at him. Saturnine. 
Why Lords what wrongs are these, was ever seen,  
An Emperor in Rome thus overborne,  
Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent  
O fegall justice, used in such contempt.  
My Lords you know the mightful Gods,  
How ever these disturbers of our peace  
Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath past  
But even with law against the wilful sons  
Of old Andronicus. And what and if  
His sorrows have so overwhelmed 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 skrowles to fly about the streets of Rome,  
What's this but libeling 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 he sleep,  
He'll so a wake as he in fury shall,  
Cut off the proudest 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,  
The'ffects of sorrow for his valiant sons,  
Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scared 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 touched thee to the quick,  
Thy life blood out: if Aron now be wise,  
Then is all safe, the Anchor in the port.  Enter Clown. 
How now good fellow wouldst thou speak with us?  Clown. 
Yea forsooth & your Mistriship be Imperial,  Tamora. 
Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.  Clow. 
'tis he, God and Saint Steven give you God-den,  
I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.  He reads the letter. Satur. 
Go take him away and hang him presently?  Clow. 
How much money must I have.  Tamora. 
Come sirrah you must be hanged.  Clown. 
Hanged be Lady, than I have brought up a neck to a fair end.  Exit. Satur. 
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs,  
Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?  
I know from whence this same devise 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 slaughter man,  
Sly frantic wretch, that holpst to make me great,  
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.  Enter Nutius Emillius. Satur. 
What news with thee Emillius?  Emillius. 
Arm my Lords, Rome never had more cause,  
The Goths have gathered head and with a power  
Of high resolved men, bend 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.  King. 
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.  
I now gins 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 wished that Lucius were their Emperor.  Tamora. 
why should you fear, is not your City strong?  King. 
I but the Citizen's favour Lucius,  
And will revolt from me to secure him.  Tamora. 
King Be thy thoughts imperious like thy name,  
Is the sun dimmed, 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 flint 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 honniestalkes to sheep,  
When as the one is wounded with the bait,  
The other rotten with delicious seed.  King. 
But he will not entreat his son for us.  Tamora. 
If Tamora entreat him than he will,  
For I can smooth and fill his aged ears,  
With golden promises, that were his heart  
Almost impregnable, his old years 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.  King. 
Emillius do this message honourably,  
And if he stand in hostage for his safety,  
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.  Emillius. 
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,  Saturnine. 
Then go sucessantly and plead to him.  Exeunt. Enter Lucius with an Army of Goths with Drums and Soldiers. 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 scathe,  
Let him make treable satisfaction.  Goth. 
Brave slip sprung from the great Andronicus,  
Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,  
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds,  
In grateful Rome requites with foul contempt,  
Be bold in us we'll follow where thou lead'st,  
Like stinging Bees in hottest summers day,  
Led by their Master to the flowered fields,  
And be advengde on cursed Tamora:  
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 Gothe?  Enter a Goth leading of Aron with his child in his Arms. Goth. 
Renowned Lucius from our troops I strayed,  
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 controlled with this discourse:  
Peace tawny slave, half me, and half thy Dame,  
Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,  
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 art the Empress babe,  
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.  
With this my weapon drawn I rushed upon him  
Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither  
To use as you think needful of the man.  Lucius. 
Oh worthy Goth this is the incarnate devil,  
That robbed 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-eyd slave whither wouldst thou convey,  
This growing image of thy fiendlike 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.  Aron. 
Touch not the boy, he is of Royal blood.  Luc. 
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.  Aron. 
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.  Lucius. 
Say on, and if it please me which thou speakst,  
Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourished.  Aron. 
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 performed,  
And this shall all be buried in my death,  
Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.  Lucius. 
Tell on thy mind, I say thy child shall live.  Aron. 
Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.  Luci. 
Who should I swear by, thou believest no God,  
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath.  Aron. 
What if I do not, as indeed I do not,  
Yet for I know thou art religious,  
And hast a thing within thee called conscience,  
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies,  
Which I have seen thee careful to observe,  
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 so ere 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.  Lucius. 
Even by my God I swear to thee I will.  Aron. 
First know thou, I begot him on the Empress.  Lucius. 
Oh most insatiate and luxurious woman.  Aron. 
Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of charity,  
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon,  
'Twas her two sons that murdered Bassianus,  
They cut thy Sister's tongue, and ravished her,  
And cut her hands, and trimmed her as thou sawest.  Luc. 
Oh detestable villain, callst thou that trimming.  Aron. 
Why she was washed, and cut, and trimmed,  
And 'twas trim sport for them which had the doing of it.  Luc. 
Oh barbarous beastly villains like thyself.  Aron. 
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 learned of me,  
As true a Dog as ever fought at head:  
Well let my deeds be witness of my worth,  
I trained thy brethren to that guileful hole,  
where the dead corpses of Bassianus lay:  
I wrote the letter that thy Father found,  
And hide the gold within that letter mentioned,  
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 played the cheater for thy father's hand,  
And when I had it drew myself a part,  
And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter,  
I pried me through the crevice of a wall,  
when for his hand he had his two sons heads,  
Beheld his tears and laughed 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 twenty kisses.  Goth. 
What canst thou say all this and never blushy?  Aron. 
I like a black Dog, as the saying is●  Lucius. 
Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds.  Aron. 
I 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 haystalks in the night,  
And bid the owners quench them with their tears:  
Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves,  
And set them upright at their dear friends door,  
Even when their sorrows 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.  
But 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.  Lucius. 
Bring down the Devil for he must not die,  
So sweet a death as hanging presently.  Aron. 
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.  Luci. 
Sirs stop his mouth and let him speak no more.  Enter Emillius. Goth. 
My Lord there is a messenger from Rome,  
Desires to be admitted to your presence.  Lucius. 
Let him come near.  
Welcome Emillius, what's the news from Rome?  Emil. 
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 delivered.  Goth. 
What says our General.  Luci. 
Emillius, let the Emperor give his pledges,  
Unto my Father and my Uncle Marcus,  
And we will come, march away.  Enter Tamora and her two sons disguised. Tamora. 
Thus in this strange and sad habilliament,  
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 dear revenge,  
Tell him revenge is come to join with him,  
And work confusion on his enemies.  They knock and Titus opens his study door. Titus. 
Who doth molest my contemplation?  
Is it your trick to make me open the door,  
That so my saddecrees 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.  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 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's,  
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 the mout,  
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 wagoner,  
And whirl along with thee about the Globes.  
Provide thee two proper palfrays, black as jet,  
To hale thy vengeful wagon swift aways,  
And find out murder in their guilty cares.  
And when thy Car is loaden with their heads,  
I will dismount and by thy wagon wheel,  
trot like a servile footman all day long,  
Even from Epeons 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 them thy ministers, what are they called?  Tamora. 
Rape and Murder, therefore called so.  
'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.  Tit. 
Good Lord how like the Empress sons they are,  
And you the Empress, but we wordly men  
Have miserable mad mistaking eyes:  
Oh sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee,  
And if one arms embracement will content thee,  
I will embrace thee in it by and by.  Tamora. 
This closing with him fits his lunacy,  
What ere I forge to feed his brainsick 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.  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,  
Can not all hell afford you such a Devil?  
For well I wots the Empress never wags,  
But in her company there is a Moor.  
And would you represent our Queen a right,  
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?  Demet. 
Show me a murderer I'll deal with him.  Chi. 
Show me a villain that hath done a rape,  
And I am sent to be revenged 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 findest 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 emperors 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 lessoned 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 stop and kneel,  
And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart:  
What says Andronicus to this devise.  Enter Marcus. Titus. 
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.  Marcus. 
This will I do, and soon return again.  Tamora. 
Now will I hence about thy business,  
And take my ministers a long 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,  
While I go tell my Lord the Emperor,  
How I have governed our determined 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 supposed me mad,  
And will over reach them in their own devices,  
A pair of cursed hell hounds and their Dame.  Deme. 
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.  Chiron. 
Tell us old man how shall we be employed,  Titus. 
Tut I have work enough for you to do  
Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine.  Publius. 
What is your will?  Titus. 
Know you these two.  Pub. 
The empress sons I take them, Chiron. Demetrius.  Titus. 
Fie, Publius fie, thou art too much deceived,  
The one is Murder and Rape is the others 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.  Chiron. 
Villains forbear we are the Empress sons.  Pub. 
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.  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.  
Oh villains Chiron and Demetrius,  
Here stands the spring whom you have stained with mud,  
This goodly summer with your winter mixed,  
You killed her husband, and for that vild fault,  
Two of her brothers were condemned 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,  
Inhumame traitors you constrained and forced.  
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,  
While 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 passed 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 too,  
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on,  
For worse than Philomel you used my daughter,  
And worse than Progne I will be revenged.  
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 baked,  
Come, come, be every one officius,  
To make this banquet which I wish may prove  
More stern and bloody than the Centauris feast,  He cuts their throats. 
So now bring them in for I'll play the Cook,  
And see them ready against their Mother comes,  Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Goths. Lucius. 
Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my Father's mind,  
That I repair to Rome I am content.  Got. 
And ours with thine, befall what Fortune will.  Luci. 
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 proceed,  
And see the Ambush of our friends be strong,  
I fear the Emperor means no good to us.  Moor. 
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,  
The trumpet's show the Emperor is at hand.  Sound Trumpet's. Enter Emperor and Empress with Tribunes and others. King. 
What hath the firmament more suns than one?  Lucius, 
What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?  Mar. 
Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley,  
These quarrels must be quietly debated,  
The feast is ready which the careful Titus,  
Hath ordained to an honourable end,  
For peace, for love, for league and good to Rome,  
Please you therefore, draw nigh and take your places.  King. 
Marcus we will.  Trumpets sounding, Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the dishes, and Lavinia with a vail over her face. 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.  King. 
Why art thou thus attired 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. 
And if your highness knew my heart you were,  
My Lord the Emperor resolve me this,  
Was it well done of rash Viginius  
To slay his daughter with his own right hand  
Because she was enforced, stained, and deflowrde?  King. 
It was Andronicus.  Titus. 
Your reason mighty Lord.  King. 
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 wirh thee,  
And with thy shame thy Father's sorrow die.  King. 
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind.  Tit. 
Killed 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.  King. 
What was she ravished, tell who did the deed.  T. 
Will't please you eat, wilt please your highness feed.  Tam. 
Why hast thou slain thine only Daughter thus?  Titus. 
Not I, 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius',  
They Ravished her and cut away her tongue,  
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.  King, 
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 knives sharp point.  He stabs the Empress. Emperor. 
Die frantic wretch for this accursed deed,  Lucius. 
Can the sons eye behold his father bleed?  
there's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.  Marcus. 
You sad faced men, people and sons of Rome  
By uproars severed as a flight of fowl,  
Scattered by winds and high tempestuous gusts,  
Oh let me teach you how to knit again,  
This scattered corn into one mutual sheaf,  
These broken limbs again into one body.  Roman lord 
Let Rome herself be bane unto herself.  
And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy too,  
Like a forlorn and desperate cast away,  
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 Rooms 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.  
Tell us what Sinon hath be wicht 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 utterance 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 damned Demetrius,  
Were they that murdered our emperors brother,  
And they it were that ravished our sister,  
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,  
Our Father's tears despised, and basely cozened,  
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 turned weeping out,  
To beg relief among Rome's enemies,  
Who drowned their enmetie 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, me thinks I do digress too much,  
Citing my worthless praise, Oh 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,  
And as he is to witness this is true,  
Now judge what course 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 Romaines?  
Have we done aught amiss, show us wherein,  
And from the place where you behold us pleading,  
The poor remainder of Andronicie,  
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.  Emillius. 
Come come thou reverent 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.  Marcus. 
Lucius, all hail Rome's royal emperor.  
Go go into old Titus sorrowful house,  
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,  
To be adjudge some direful slaughtering death,  
As punishment for his most wicked life.  
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 a while,  
For nature puts me to a heavy task,  
Stand all aloof but uncle draw you near,  
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk,  
Oh take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,  
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood slain 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,  
Oh were the sum of these that I should pay,  
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.  Lucius. 
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,  
Song thee a sleep his loving breast thy pillow,  
Many a story hath he told to thee,  
And bid thee bare 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 warmed themselves on thine,  
Oh 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.  Puer. 
Oh Grandfire, 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 choacke me if I open my mouth.  Roman. 
You sad Andronicie have done with woes,  
Give sentence on this 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 dies, this is our doom,  
Some stay to see him fastened in the earth.  Aron. 
Ah 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.  Lu. 
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 households monument,  
As for that ravenous tiger Tamora,  
No funeral right, nor man in mourning weed,  
No mournful bell shall ring her burial  
But throw her forth to beasts and birds to pray,  
Her life was beastly and devoid of pity,  
And being dead let birds on her take pity.  Exeunt. 
Finis the Tragedy of Titus Andronicus.