Titus Andronicus

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Original text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter young Lucius and Lauinia running after him,
and the Boy flies from her with his bookes vnder his
arme.
Enter Titus and Marcus.

Boy.
Helpe Grandsier helpe, my Aunt Lauinia,
Followes me euerywhere I know not why.
Good Vncle Marcus see how swift she comes,
Alas sweet Aunt, I know not what you meane.

Mar.
Stand by me Lucius, doe not feare thy Aunt.

Titus.
She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme

Boy.
I when my father was in Rome she did.

Mar.
What meanes my Neece Lauinia by these signes?

Ti.
Feare not Lucius, somewhat doth she meane:
See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee:
Some whether would she haue thee goe with her.
Ah boy, Cornelia neuer with more care
Read to her sonnes, then she hath read to thee,
Sweet Poetry, and Tullies Oratour:
Canst thou not gesse wherefore she plies thee thus?

Boy.
My Lord I know not I, nor can I gesse,
Vnlesse some fit or frenzie do possesse her:
For I haue heard my Grandsier say full oft,
Extremitie of griefes would make men mad.
And I haue read that Hecuba of Troy,
Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to feare,
Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt,
Loues me as deare as ere my mother did,
And would not but in fury fright my youth,
Which made me downe to throw my bookes, and flie
Causles perhaps, but pardon me sweet Aunt,
And Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe,
I will most willingly attend your Ladyship.

Mar.
Lucius I will.

Ti.
How now Lauinia, Marcus what meanes this?
Some booke there is that she desires to see,
Which is it girle of these? Open them boy,
But thou art deeper read and better skild,
Come and take choyse of all my Library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heauens
Reueale the damn'd contriuer of this deed.
What booke? / Why lifts she vp her armes in sequence thus?

Mar.
I thinke she meanes that ther was more then one
Confederate in the fact, I more there was:
Or else to heauen she heaues them to reuenge.

Ti.
Lucius what booke is that she tosseth so?

Boy.
Grandsier 'tis Ouids Metamorphosis,
My mother gaue it me.

Mar.
For loue of her that's gone,
Perhahs she culd it from among the rest.

Ti.
Soft, so busily she turnes the leaues,
Helpe her, what would she finde? Lauinia shall I read?
This is the tragicke tale of Philomel?
And treates of Tereus treason and his rape,
And rape I feare was roote of thine annoy.

Mar.
See brother see, note how she quotes the leaues

Ti.
Lauinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd sweet girle,
Rauisht and wrong'd as Philomela was?
Forc'd in the ruthlesse, vast, and gloomy woods?
See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt,
(O had we neuer, neuer hunted there)
Patern'd by that the Poet heere describes,
By nature made for murthers and for rapes.

Mar.
O why should nature build so foule a den,
Vnlesse the Gods delight in tragedies?

Ti.
Giue signes sweet girle, for heere are none but friends
What Romaine Lord it was durst do the deed?
Or slunke not Saturnine, as Tarquin ersts,
That left the Campe to sinne in Lucrece bed.

Mar.
Sit downe sweet Neece, brother sit downe by me,

Appollo, Pallas, Ioue, or Mercury,
Inspire me that I may this treason finde.
My Lord looke heere, looke heere Lauinia.
This sandie plot is plaine, guide if thou canst
This after me,
He writes his Name with his staffe, and guides it with
feete and mouth.
I haue writ my name,
Without the helpe of any hand at all.
Curst be that hart that forc'st vs to that shift:
Write thou good Neece, and heere display at last,
What God will haue discouered for reuenge,
Heauen guide thy pen to print thy sorrowes plaine,
That we may know the Traytors and the truth.
She takes the staffe in her mouth, and guides it with
her stumps and writes.
Oh doe ye read my Lord what she hath writs?

Ti.
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.

Mar.
What, what, the lustfull sonnes of Tamora,
Performers of this hainous bloody deed?

Ti.
Magni Dominator poli,
Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?

Mar.
Oh calme thee gentle Lord: Although I know
There is enough written vpon this earth,
To stirre a mutinie in the mildest thoughts,
And arme the mindes of infants to exclaimes.
My Lord kneele downe with me: Lauinia kneele,
And kneele sweet boy, the Romaine Hectors hope,

And sweare with me, as with the wofull Feere
And father of that chast dishonoured Dame,
Lord Iunius Brutus sweare for Lucrece rape,
That we will prosecute (by good aduise)
Mortall reuenge vpon these traytorous Gothes,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

Ti.
Tis sure enough, and you knew how.
But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware
The Dam will wake, and if she winde you once,
Shee's with the Lyon deepely still in league.
And lulls him whilst she palyeth on her backe,
And when he sleepes will she do what she list.
You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone:
And come, I will goe get a leafe of brasse,
And with a Gad of steele will write these words,
And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde
Will blow these sands like Sibels leaues abroad,
And wheres your lesson then. Boy what say you?

Boy.
I say my Lord, that if I were a man,
Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe,
For these bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome.

Mar.
I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft,
For his vngratefull country done the like.

Boy.
And Vncle so will I, and if I liue.

Ti.
Come goe with me into mine Armorie,
Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy
Shall carry from me to the Empresse sonnes,
Presents that I intend to send them both,
Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

Boy.
I with my dagger in their bosomes Grandsire:

Ti.
No boy not so, Ile teach thee another course,
Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my house,
Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court,
I marry will we sir, and weele be waited on.
Exeunt.

Mar.
O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus attend him in his extasie,
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart,
Then foe-mens markes vpon his batter'd shield,
But yet so iust, that he will not reuenge,
Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus.
Exit
Original text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one dore: and
at another dore young Lucius and another, with a
bundle of weapons, and verses writ vpon them.

Chi.
Demetrius heeres the sonne of Lucius,
He hath some message to deliuer vs.

Aron.
I some mad message from his mad Grandfather.

Boy.
My Lords, with all the humblenesse I may,
I greete your honours from Andronicus,
And pray the Romane Gods confound you both.

Deme.
Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes?

For villanie's markt with rape. May it please you,
My Grandsire well aduis'd hath sent by me,
The goodliest weapons of his Armorie,
To gratifie your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome, for so he bad me say:
And so I do and with his gifts present
Your Lordships, wheneuer you haue need,
You may be armed and appointed well,
And so I leaue you both: like bloody villaines.
Exit

Deme.
What's heere? a scrole, & written round about?
Let's see.
Integer vita scelerisque purus,
non egit maury iaculis nec arcus.

Chi.
O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well.
I read it in the Grammer long agoe.

Moore.
I iust, a verse in Horace: right, you haue it,
Now what a thing it is to be an Asse?
Heer's no sound iest, the old man hath found their guilt,
And sends the weapons wrapt about with lines,
That wound (beyond their feeling) to the quick:
But were our witty Empresse well afoot,
She would applaud Andronicus conceit:
But let her rest, in her vnrest awhile.
And now young Lords, wa'stnot a happy starre
Led vs to Rome strangers, and more then so;
Captiues, to be aduanced to this height?
It did me good before the Pallace gate,
To braue the Tribune in his brothers hearing.

Deme.
But me more good, to see so great a Lord
Basely insinuate, and send vs gifts.

Moore.
Had he not reason Lord Demetrius?
Did you not vse his daughter very friendly?

Deme.
I would we had a thousand Romane Dames
At such a bay, by turne to serue our lust.

Chi.
A charitable wish, and full of loue.

Moore.
Heere lack's but you mother for to say, Amen.

Chi.
And that would she for twenty thousand more.

Deme.
Come, let vs go, and pray to all the Gods
For our beloued mother in her paines.

Moore.


Pray to the deuils, the gods haue giuen vs ouer.
Flourish.

Dem.
Why do the Emperors trumpets flourish thus?

Chi.
Belike for ioy the Emperour hath a sonne.
Soft, who comes heere?
Enter Nurse with a blackeaMoore childe.

Nur.
Good morrow Lords:
O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moore?

Aron.
Well, more or lesse, or nere a whit at all,
Heere Aaron is, and what with Aaron now?

Nurse.
Oh gentle Aaron, we are all vndone,
Now helpe, or woe betide thee euermore.

Aron.
Why, what a catterwalling dost thou keepe?
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine armes?

Nurse.
O that which I would hide from heauens eye,
Our Empresse shame, and stately Romes disgrace,
She is deliuered Lords, she is deliuered.

Aron
To whom?

Nurse.
I meane she is brought abed?

Aron.
Wel God giue her good rest, / What hath he sent her?

Nurse.
A deuill.

Aron.
Why then she is the Deuils Dam:
a ioyfull issue.

Nurse.
A ioylesse, dismall, blacke &, sorrowfull issue,
Heere is the babe as loathsome as a toad,
Among'st the fairest breeders of our clime,
The Empresse sends it thee, thy stampe, thy seale,
And bids thee christen it with thy daggers point.

Aron.
Out you whore, is black so base a hue?

Sweet blowse, you are a beautious blossome sure.

Deme.
Villaine what hast thou done?

Aron.
That which thou canst not vndoe.

Chi.
Thou hast vndone our mother.

Deme.
And therein hellish dog, thou hast vndone,
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choyce,
Accur'st the off-spring of so foule a fiend.

Chi.
It shall not liue.

Aron.
It shall not die.

Nurse.
Aaron it must, the mother wils it so.

Aron.
What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I
Doe execution on my flesh and blood.

Deme.
Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point:
Nurse giue it me, my sword shall soone dispatch it.

Aron.
Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels vp.
Stay murtherous villaines, will you kill your brother?
Now by the burning Tapers of the skie,
That sh'one so brightly when this Boy was got,
He dies vpon my Semitars sharpe point,
That touches this my first borne sonne and heire.
I tell you young-lings, not Enceladus
With all his threatning band of Typhons broode,
Nor great Alcides, nor the God of warre,
Shall ceaze this prey out of his fathers hands:
What, what, ye sanguine shallow harted Boyes,
Ye white-limb'd walls, ye Ale-house painted signes,
Cole-blacke is better then another hue,
In that it scornes to beare another hue:
For all the water in the Ocean,
Can neuer turne the Swans blacke legs to white,
Although she laue them hourely in the flood:
Tell the Empresse from me, I am of age
To keepe mine owne, excuse it how she can.

Deme.
Wilt thou betray thy noble mistris thus?

Aron.
My mistris is my mistris: this my selfe,
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:
This, before all the world do I preferre,
This mauger all the world will I keepe safe,
Or some of you shall smoake for it in Rome.

Deme.
By this our mother is foreuer sham'd.

Chi.
Rome will despise her for this foule escape.

Nur.
The Emperour in his rage will doome her death.

Chi.
I blush to thinke vpon this ignominie.

Aron.
Why ther's the priuiledge your beauty beares:
Fie trecherous hue, that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counsels of the hart:
Heer's a young Lad fram'd of another leere,
Looke how the blacke slaue smiles vpon the father;
As who should say, old Lad I am thine owne.
He is your brother Lords, sensibly fed
Of that selfe blood that first gaue life to you,
And from that wombe where you imprisoned were
He is infranchised and come to light:
Nay he is your brother by the surer side,
Although my seale be stamped in his face.

Nurse.
Aaron what shall I say vnto the Empresse?

Dem.
Aduise thee Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy aduise:
Saue thou the child, so we may all be safe.

Aron.
Then sit we downe and let vs all consult.
My sonne and I will haue the winde of you:
Keepe there,
now talke at pleasure of your safety.

Deme.
How many women saw this childe of his?

Aron.
Why so braue Lords, when we ioyne in league
I am a Lambe: but if you braue the Moore,
The chafed Bore, the mountaine Lyonesse,
The Ocean swells not so at Aaron stormes:
But say againe, how many saw the childe?

Nurse.
Cornelia, the midwife, and myselfe,
And none else but the deliuered Empresse.

Aron.
The Empresse, the Midwife, and yourselfe,
Two may keepe counsell, when the third's away:
Goe to the Empresse, tell her this I said,
He kils her
Weeke, weeke, so cries a Pigge prepared to th'spit.

Deme.
What mean'st thou Aaron? / Wherefore did'st thou this?

Aron.
O Lord sir, 'tis a deed of pollicie?
Shall she liue to betray this guilt of our's:
A long tongu'd babling Gossip? No Lords no:
And now be it knowne to you my full intent.
Not farre, one Muliteus my Country-man
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed,
His childe is like to her, faire as you are:
Goe packe with him, and giue the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumstance of all,
And how by this their Childe shall be aduaunc'd,
And be receiued for the Emperours heyre,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calme this tempest whirling in the Court,
And let the Emperour dandle him for his owne.
Harke ye Lords,
ye see I haue giuen her physicke,
And you must needs bestow her funerall,
The fields are neere, and you are gallant Groomes:
This done, see that you take no longer daies
But send the Midwife presently to me.
The Midwife and the Nurse well made away,
Then let the Ladies tattle what they please.

Chi.
Aaron I see thou wilt not ttust the ayre
with secrets.

Deme.
For this care of Tamora,
Herselfe, and hers are highly bound to thee.
Exeunt.

Aron.
Now to the Gothes, as swift as Swallow flies,
There to dispose this treasure in mine armes,
And secretly to greete the Empresse friends:
Come on you thick-lipt-slaue, Ile beare you hence,
For it is you that puts vs to our shifts:
Ile make you feed on berries, and on rootes,
And feed on curds and whay, and sucke the Goate,
And cabbin in a Caue, and bring you vp
To be a warriour, and command a Campe.
Exit
Original text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Titus, old Marcus, young
Lucius, and other gentlemen
with bowes, and Titus beares the arrowes with Letters on
the end of them.

Tit.
Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way.
Sir Boy let me see your Archerie,
Looke yee draw home enough, and 'tis there straight:
Terras Astrea reliquit, be you remembred Marcus.
She's gone, she's fled, sirs take you to your tooles,
You Cosens shall goe sound the Ocean:
And cast your nets,
haply you may find her in the Sea,
Yet ther's as little iustice as at Land:
No Publius and Sempronius, you must doe it,
'Tis you must dig with Mattocke, and with Spade,
And pierce the inmost Center of the earth:
Then when you come to Plutoes Region,
I pray you deliuer him this petition,
Tell him it is for iustice, and for aide,
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with sorrowes in vngratefull Rome.
Ah Rome! Well, well, I made thee miserable,
What time I threw the peoples suffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannize ore me.
Goe get you gone, and pray be carefull all,
And leaue you not a man of warre vnsearcht,
This wicked Emperour may haue shipt her hence,
And kinsmen then we may goe pipe for iustice.

Marc.
O Publius is not this a heauie case
To see thy Noble Vnckle thus distract?

Publ.
Therefore my Lords it highly vs concernes,
By day and night t'attend him carefully:
And feede his humour kindely as we may,
Till time beget some carefull remedie.

Marc.
Kinsmen, his sorrowes are past remedie.
Ioyne with the Gothes, and with reuengefull warre,
Take wreake on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the Traytor Saturnine.

Tit.
Publius how now? how now my Maisters?
What haue you met with her?

Publ.
No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word,
If you will haue reuenge from hell you shall,
Marrie for iustice she is so imploy'd,
He thinkes with Ioue in heauen, or somewhere else:
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

Tit.
He doth me wrong to feed me with delayes,
Ile diue into the burning Lake below,
And pull her out of Acaron by the heeles.
Marcus we are but shrubs, no Cedars we,
No big-bon'd-men, fram'd of the Cyclops size,
But mettall Marcus, steele to the very backe,
Yet wrung with wrongs more then our backe can beare:
And sith there's no iustice in earth nor hell,
We will sollicite heauen, and moue the Gods
To send downe Iustice for to wreake our wongs:
Come to this geare, you are a good Archer Marcus.
He giues them the Arrowes.
Ad Iouem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem,
Ad Martem, that's for myselfe,
Heere Boy to Pallas, heere to Mercury,
To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine,
You were as good to shoote against the winde.
Too it Boy, Marcus loose when I bid:
Of my word, I haue written to effect,
Ther's not a God left vnsollicited.

Marc.
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court,
We will afflict the Emperour in his pride.

Tit.
Now Maisters draw,
Oh well said Lucius:
Good Boy in Virgoes lap, giue it Pallas.

Marc.
My Lord, I aime a Mile beyond the Moone,
Your letter is with Iupiter by this.

Tit.
Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus hornes.

Mar.
This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot,
The Bull being gal'd, gaue Aries such a knocke,
That downe fell both the Rams hornes in the Court,
And who should finde them but the Empresse villaine:
She laught, and told the Moore he should not choose
But giue them to his Maister for a present.

Tit.
Why there it goes, God giue your Lordship ioy.
Enter the Clowne with a basket and two Pigeons in it.
Newes, newes, from heauen, / Marcus the poast is come.
Sirrah, what tydings? haue you any letters?
Shall I haue Iustice, what sayes Iupiter?

Clowne.
Ho the Iibbetmaker, he sayes that he hath taken
them downe againe, for the man must not be hang'd till
the next weeke.

Tit.
But what sayes Iupiter I aske thee?

Clowne.
Alas sir I know not Iupiter: / I neuer dranke with
him in all my life.

Tit.
Why villaine art not thou the Carrier?

Clowne.
I of my Pigions sir, nothing else.

Tit.
Why, did'st thou not come from heauen?

Clowne.
From heauen? Alas sir, I neuer came there, God
forbid I should be so bold, to presse to heauen in my
young dayes. Why I am going with my pigeons to the
Tribunall Plebs, to take vp a matter of brawle, betwixt my
Vncle, and one of the Emperialls men.

Mar.
Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serue
for your Oration, and let him deliuer the Pigions to the
Emperour from you.

Tit.
Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Emperour
with a Grace?

Clowne.
Nay truely sir, I could neuer say grace in all my
life.

Tit.
Sirrah come hither, make no more adoe,
But giue your Pigeons to the Emperour,
By me thou shalt haue Iustice at his hands.
Hold, hold,
meanewhile her's money for thy charges.
Giue me pen and inke.
Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliuer a Supplication?

Clowne.
I sir

Titus.
Then here is a Supplication for you,
and when you come to him, at the first approach you
must kneele, then kisse his foote, then deliuer vp your
Pigeons, and then looke for your reward. Ile be at hand
sir, see you do it brauely.

Clowne.
I warrant you sir, let me alone.

Tit.
Sirrha hast thou a knife? Come let me see it.

Heere Marcus, fold it in the Oration,
For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant:
And when thou hast giuen it the Emperour,
Knocke at my dore, and tell me what he sayes.

Clowne.
God be with you sir, I will. Exit.

Tit.
Come Marcus let vs goe, Publius follow me.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Emperour and Empresse, and her two sonnes,
the Emperour brings
the Arrowes in his hand that Titus shot at him.

Satur.
Why Lords, / What wrongs are these? was euer seene
An Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne,
Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extent
Of egall iustice, vs'd in such contempt?
My Lords, you know the mightfull Gods,
(How euer these disturbers of our peace
Buz in the peoples eares) there nought hath past,
But euen with law against the willfull Sonnes
Of old Andronicus. And what and if
His sorrowes haue so ouerwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreakes,
His fits, his frenzie, and his bitternesse?
And now he writes to heauen for his redresse.
See, heeres to Ioue, and this to Mercury,
This to Apollo, this to the God of warre:
Sweet scrowles to flie about the streets of Rome:
What's this but Libelling against the Senate,
And blazoning our Iniustice euerywhere?
A goodly humour, is it not my Lords?
As who would say, in Rome no Iustice were.
But if I liue, his fained extasies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages:
But he and his shall know, that Iustice liues
In Saturninus health; whom if he sleepe,
Hee'l so awake, as he in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st Conspirator that liues.

Tamo.
My gracious Lord, my louely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, Commander of my thoughts,
Calme thee, and beare the faults of Titus age,
Th'effects of sorrow for his valiant Sonnes,
Whose losse hath pier'st him deepe, and scar'd his heart;
And rather comfort his distressed plight,
Then prosecute the meanest or the best
For these contempts. Why thus it shall become
High witted Tamora to glose with all:
Aside. But Titus, I haue touch'd thee to the quicke,
Thy lifeblood out: If Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the Anchor's in the Port.
Enter Clowne.
How now good fellow, would'st thou speake with vs?

Clow.
Yea forsooth, and your Mistership be Emperiall.

Tam.
Empresse I am, but yonder sits the Emperour.

Clo.
'Tis he; God & Saint Stephen giue you good
den; I haue brought you a Letter, & a couple of Pigions
heere.
He reads the Letter.

Satu.

Goe take him away, and hang him presently.

Clowne.
How much money must I haue?

Tam.
Come sirrah you must be hang'd.

Clow.
Hang'd? berLady, then I haue brought vp a neck
to a faire end.
Exit.

Satu.
Despightfull and intollerable wrongs,
Shall I endure this monstrous villany?
I know from whence this same deuise proceedes:
May this be borne? As if his traytrous Sonnes,
That dy'd by law for murther of our Brother,
Haue by my meanes beene butcher'd wrongfully?
Goe dragge the villaine hither by the haire,
Nor Age, nor Honour, shall shape priuiledge:
For this proud mocke, Ile be thy slaughterman:
Sly franticke wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thyselfe should gouerne Rome and me.
Enter Nuntius Emillius.
Satur. What newes with thee Emillius?

Emil.
Arme my Lords, Rome neuer had more cause,
The Gothes haue gather'd head, and with a power
Of high resolued men, bent to the spoyle
They hither march amaine, vnder conduct
Of Lucius, Sonne to old Andronicus:
Who threats in course of this reuenge to do
As much as euer Coriolanus did.

King.
Is warlike Lucius Generall of the Gothes?
These tydings nip me, and I hang the head
As flowers with frost, or grasse beat downe with stormes:
I, now begins our sorrowes to approach,
'Tis he the common people loue so much,
My selfe hath often heard them say,
(When I haue walked like a priuate man)
That Lucius banishment was wrongfully,
And they haue wisht that Lucius were their Emperour.

Tam.
Why should you feare? Is not our City strong?

King.
I, but the Cittizens fauour Lucius,
And will reuolt from me, to succour him.

Tam.
King, be thy thoughts Imperious like thy name.
Isthe Sunne dim'd, that Gnats do flie in it?
The Eagle suffers little Birds to sing,
And is not carefull what they meane thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings,
He can at pleasure stint their melodie.
Euen so mayest thou, the giddy men of Rome,
Then cheare thy spirit, for know thou Emperour,
I will enchaunt the old Andronicus,
With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous
Then baites to fish, or honystalkes to sheepe,
When as the one is wounded with the baite,
The other rotted with delicious foode.

King.
But he will not entreat his Sonne for vs.

Tam.
If Tamora entreat him, then he will,
For I can smooth and fill his aged eare,
With golden promises, that were his heart
Almost Impregnable, his old eares deafe,
Yet should both eare and heart obey my tongue.
Goe thou before to our Embassadour,
Say, that the Emperour requests a parly
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting.

Kiug.
Emillius do this message Honourably,
And if he stand in Hostage for his safety,
Bid him demaund what pledge will please him best.

Emill.
Your bidding shall I do effectually.
Exit.

Tam.
Now will I to that old Andronicus,
And temper him with all the Art I haue,
To plucke proud Lucius from the warlike Gothes.
And now sweet Emperour be blithe againe,
And bury all thy feare in my deuises.

Satu.
Then goe successantly and plead for him.
Exit.
Modern text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Young Lucius and Lavinia running after him,
and the boy flies from her with his books under his
arm.
Enter Titus and Marcus

YOUNG LUCIUS
Help, grandsire, help! My aunt Lavinia
Follows me everywhere, I know not why.
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
He drops his books

MARCUS
Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.

TITUS
She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

YOUNG LUCIUS
Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

MARCUS
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

TITUS
Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean.

MARCUS
See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:
Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

YOUNG LUCIUS
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 griefs would make men mad,
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad for sorrow. That made me to fear,
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
And would not but in fury fright my youth,
Which made me down to throw my books and fly,
Causeless perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt,
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

MARCUS
Lucius, I will.
Lavinia turns over the books dropped by Lucius

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.
(To Lavinia) 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?

MARCUS
I think she means that there were more than one
Confederate in the fact. Ay, more there was,
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

TITUS
Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

YOUNG LUCIUS
Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;
My mother gave it me.

MARCUS
For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps she culled 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 Philomel,
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape;
And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy.

MARCUS
See, brother, see: note how she quotes the leaves.

TITUS
Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl?
Ravished and wronged, as Philomela was,
Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?
See, see. Ay, such a place there is where we did hunt –
O, had we never, never hunted there –
Patterned by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.

MARCUS
O, why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

TITUS
Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends,
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed?
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

MARCUS
Sit down, sweet niece. Brother, sit down by me.
They sit
Apollo, Pallas, Jove or Mercury
Inspire me, that I may this treason find.
My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia.
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me.
He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with
feet and mouth
I have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.
Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!
Write thou, good niece, and here display at last
What God will have 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
O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?

TITUS
Stuprum – Chiron – Demetrius.’

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
O, calm thee, gentle lord, although I know
There is enough written upon this earth
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
They kneel
And swear with me – as, with the woeful fere
And father of that chaste dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus swore 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.
They rise

TITUS
'Tis sure enough, and you knew how.
But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:
The dam will wake, and if she wind ye once.
She's with the lion deeply still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list.
You are a young huntsman, Marcus. Let alone,
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by. The angry northern wind
Will blow these sands like Sibyl's leaves abroad,
And where's our lesson then? Boy, what say you?

YOUNG LUCIUS
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
Ay, that's my boy! Thy father hath full oft
For his ungrateful country done the like.

YOUNG LUCIUS
And, uncle, so will I, and if I live.

TITUS
Come, go with me into mine armoury.
Lucius, I'll fit thee, and withal my boy
Shall carry from me to the Empress' sons
Presents that I intend to send them both.
Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not?

YOUNG LUCIUS
Ay, 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.
Ay, marry, will we, sir, and we'll be waited on.
Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and boy

MARCUS
O heavens, can you hear a good man groan
And not relent, or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
Than foemen's marks upon his battered shield,
But yet so just that he will not revenge.
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus!
Exit
Modern text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Aaron, 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.

AARON
Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

YOUNG LUCIUS
My lords, with all the humbleness I may,
I greet your honours from Andronicus –
(Aside) And pray the Roman gods confound you both.

DEMETRIUS
Gramercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news?

YOUNG LUCIUS
(aside)
That you are both deciphered, that's the news,
For villains marked with rape. (To all) May it please you,
My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome, for so he bid me say.
Attendants give weapons
And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well.
And so I leave you both – (aside) like bloody villains.
Exit with attendant

DEMETRIUS
What's here? A scroll, and written round about?
Let's see:
Integer vitae scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arcu.

CHIRON
O, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well;
I read it in the grammar long ago.

AARON
Ay, just – a verse in Horace, right you have it.
(Aside) Now what a thing it is to be an ass!
Here's no sound jest. The old man hath found their guilt,
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines
That wound beyond their feeling to the quick.
But were our witty Empress well afoot,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.
(To Chiron and Demetrius)
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good before the palace gate
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.

DEMETRIUS
But me more good to see so great a lord
Basely insinuate and send us gifts.

AARON
Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

DEMETRIUS
I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.

CHIRON
A charitable wish, and full of love.

AARON
Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.

CHIRON
And that would she, for twenty thousand more.

DEMETRIUS
Come, let us go and pray to all the gods
For our beloved mother in her pains.

AARON
(aside)
Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.
Trumpets sound

DEMETRIUS
Why do the Emperor's trumpets flourish thus?

CHIRON
Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son.

DEMETRIUS
Soft, who comes here?
Enter Nurse with a blackamoor child

NURSE
Good morrow, lords.
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

AARON
Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all.
Here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now?

NURSE
O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone.
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

AARON
Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep.
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?

NURSE
O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our Empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace:
She is delivered, lords, she is delivered.

AARON
To whom?

NURSE
I mean she is brought abed.

AARON
Well, God give her good rest. What hath he sent her?

NURSE
A devil.

AARON
Why then, she is the devil's dam:
A joyful issue.

NURSE
A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue.
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fair-faced breeders of our clime.
The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.

AARON
Zounds, ye whore, is black so base a hue?
(To the baby)
Sweet blowze, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

DEMETRIUS
Villain, what hast thou done?

AARON
That which thou canst not undo.

CHIRON
Thou hast undone our mother.

AARON
Villain, I have done thy mother.

DEMETRIUS
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!

CHIRON
It shall not live.

AARON
It shall not die.

NURSE
Aaron, it must, the mother wills it so.

AARON
What, must it, nurse? Then let no man but I
Do execution on my flesh and blood.

DEMETRIUS
I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point.
Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it.

AARON
(taking the child and drawing his sword)
Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up!
Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother?
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point
That touches this, my first-born son and heir.
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus
With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war,
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what, ye sanguine shallow-hearted boys,
Ye white-limed walls, ye alehouse painted signs!
Coal-black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue:
For all the water in the ocean
Can never turn the swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
(To Nurse) Tell the Empress from me I am of age
To keep mine own, excuse it how she can.

DEMETRIUS
Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?

AARON
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 forever 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.

AARON
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 that womb where you imprisoned were
He is enfranchised and come to light.
Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.

NURSE
Aaron, what shall I say unto the Empress?

DEMETRIUS
Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice.
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.

AARON
Then sit we down and let us all consult.
My son and I will have the wind of you.
Keep there. (They sit)
Now talk at pleasure of your safety.

DEMETRIUS
(to Nurse)
How many women saw this child of his?

AARON
Why, so, brave lords, when we join in league
I am a lamb, but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean, swells not so as Aaron storms.
(To Nurse) But say again, how many saw the child?

NURSE
Cornelia the midwife, and myself,
And no one else but the delivered Empress.

AARON
The Empress, the midwife, and yourself.
Two may keep counsel when the third's away.
Go to the Empress, tell her this I said:
He kills her
‘ Wheak, wheak!’ – so cries a pig prepared to the spit.
All stand up

DEMETRIUS
What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this?

AARON
O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy.
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours?
A long-tongued, babbling gossip? No, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muly lives, my countryman:
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;
His child is like to her, fair as you are.
Go pack with him 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 Emperor's heir,
And substituted in the place of mine
To calm this tempest whirling in the court,
And let the Emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords, (pointing to the Nurse)
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 ladies tattle what they please.

CHIRON
Aaron, 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 Chiron and Demetrius with the Nurse's body

AARON
Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies,
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
And secretly to greet the Empress' friends.
Come on, you thick-lipped slave, I'll bear you hence,
For it is you that puts us to our shifts.
I'll make you feed on berries and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
And cabin in a cave, and bring you up
To be a warrior and command a camp.
Exit
Modern text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Titus, old Marcus, his son Publius, young
Lucius, and other gentlemen (Caius, Sempronius)
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, now let me see your archery.
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.
Terras Astraea reliquit: 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, then 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.
But [text missing in Quarto]
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 somewhere 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 Acheron by the heels.
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size,
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear.
And sith there'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 Jovem ’, that's for you. Here, ‘ Ad Apollinem ’;
Ad Martem,’ that's for myself.
Here, boy, ‘ To Pallas.’ Here, ‘ To Mercury.’
‘ To Saturn,’ Caius, not to Saturnine!
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
Of my word, I have written to effect:
There's not a god left unsolicited.

MARCUS
(aside)
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court;
We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.

TITUS
Now, masters, draw. (They shoot)
O, well said, Lucius!
Good boy, in Virgo's lap! Give it Pallas!

MARCUS
My lord, I aimed a mile beyond the moon:
Your letter is with Jupiter 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 Ram's 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
News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? Have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter?

CLOWN
Ho, the gibbet-maker? He says that he hath taken
them down again, for the man must not be hanged till
the next week.

TITUS
But what says Jupiter, 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
Ay, of my pigeons, sir, nothing else.

TITUS
Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

CLOWN
From heaven? Alas, sir, I never came there. God
forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my
young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the
tribunal plebs to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my
uncle and one of the Emperal's men.

MARCUS
(to Titus)
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. (Gives him money)
Meanwhile, here's money for thy charges.
Give me pen and ink. (Writes)
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a supplication?

CLOWN
Ay, sir.

TITUS
(gives letter)
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.
Takes a knife and gives it to Marcus
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
(To the Clown)
For thou must hold 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.

TITUS
Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Emperor and Empress and her two sons, Chiron
and Demetrius, and attendants. The Emperor brings
the arrows in his hand that Titus shot at him

SATURNINUS
Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was ever seen
An emperor in Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent
Of egall justice, used in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace
Buzz in the people's ears, there naught 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 scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!
What's this but libelling against the Senate,
And blazoning our injustice everywhere?
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? –
As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages,
But he and his shall know that justice lives
In Saturninus' health, whom, if he sleep,
He'll so awake as he in fury shall
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

TAMORA
My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,
Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
Calm thee and bear the faults of Titus' age,
Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarred his heart;
And rather comfort his distressed plight
Than prosecute the meanest or the best
For these contempts. (Aside) 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 Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor in the port.
Enter Clown
How now, good fellow, wouldst thou speak with us?

CLOWN
Yea, forsooth, an your mistress-ship be Emperial.

TAMORA
Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.

CLOWN
'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good
e'en. I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons
here.
Saturninus reads the letter

SATURNINUS
(to attendants)
Go, take him away and hang him presently.

CLOWN
How much money must I have?

TAMORA
Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.

CLOWN
Hanged, by' Lady? Then I have brought up a neck
to a fair end.
Exit guarded

SATURNINUS
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!
Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?
I know from whence this same device proceeds.
May this be borne? As if his traitorous sons,
That died by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butchered wrongfully.
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair.
Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.
For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman,
Sly, frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.
Enter Aemilius, a messenger
What news with thee, Aemilius?

AEMILIUS
Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause:
The Goths have gathered head, and with a power
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
They hither march amain, under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus,
Who threats in course of this revenge to do
As much as ever Coriolanus did.

SATURNINUS
Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?
These tidings nip me, and I hang the head
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.
Ay, now begins our sorrows to approach.
'Tis he the common people love so much;
Myself hath often heard them say,
When I have walked like a private man,
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully,
And they have wished that Lucius were their emperor.

TAMORA
Why should you fear? Is not your city strong?

SATURNINUS
Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me to succour him.

TAMORA
King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.
Is the sun 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 stint their melody:
Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.
Then cheer thy spirit; for know thou, Emperor,
I will enchant the old Andronicus
With words more sweet and yet more dangerous
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep,
When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted with delicious feed.

SATURNINUS
But he will not entreat his son for us.

TAMORA
If Tamora entreat him, then he will,
For I can smooth and fill his aged ears
With golden promises, that were his heart
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,
Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
(To Aemilius)
Go thou before to be our ambassador:
Say that the Emperor requests a parley
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting
Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus.

SATURNINUS
Aemilius, do this message honourably,
And if he stand in hostage for his safety,
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

AEMILIUS
Your bidding shall I do effectually.
Exit

TAMORA
Now will I to that old Andronicus,
And temper him with all the art I have
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, sweet Emperor, be blithe again,
And bury all thy fear in my devices.

SATURNINUS
Then go incessantly, and plead to him.
Exeunt
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2018 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL