Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
SONG.
Tit. O monstrous, what reproachfull words are these? Sat. But goe thy wayes, goe giue that changing peece, To him that flourisht for her with his Sword: A Valliant sonne in-law thou shalt enioy: One, fit to bandy with thy lawlesse Sonnes, To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome Tit. These words are Razors to my wounded hart Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes, That like the stately Thebe mong'st her Nimphs Dost ouer-shine the Gallant'st Dames of Rome, If thou be pleas'd with this my sodaine choyse, Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride, And will Create thee Empresse of Rome. Speake Queene of Goths dost thou applau'd my choyse? And heere I sweare by all the Romaine Gods, Sith Priest and Holy-water are so neere, And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing In readines for Hymeneus stand, I will not resalute the streets of Rome, Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place, I leade espous'd my Bride along with me Tamo. And heere in sight of heauen to Rome I sweare, If Saturnine aduance the Queen of Gothes, Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires, A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth Satur. Ascend Faire Queene, Panthean Lords, accompany Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride, Sent by the heauens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisedome hath her Fortune Conquered, There shall we Consummate our Spousall rites.
1.Sonne. He is not himselfe, let vs withdraw 2.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried. The Brother and the sonnes kneele. Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd 2.Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature speake Tit. Speake thou no more if all the rest will speede Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my soule Luc. Deare Father, soule and substance of vs all Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre His Noble Nephew heere in vertues nest, That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause. Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous: The Greekes vpon aduise did bury Aiax That slew himselfe: And Laertes sonne, Did graciously plead for his Funerals: Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy, Be bar'd his entrance heere Tit. Rise Marcus, rise, The dismall'st day is this that ere I saw, To be dishonored by my Sonnes in Rome: Well, bury him, and bury me the next. They put him in the Tombe. Luc. There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends. Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe. They all kneele and say. No man shed teares for Noble Mutius, He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause. Enter. Mar. My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps, How comes it that the subtile Queene of Gothes, Is of a sodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome? Ti. I know not Marcus: but I know it is, (Whether by deuise or no) the heauens can tell, Is she not then beholding to the man, That brought her for this high good turne so farre? Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.
Tit. To morrow and it please your Maiestie, To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me, With horne and Hound, Weele giue your Grace Bon iour Satur. Be it so Titus, and Gramercy to. Exeunt. Actus Secunda. Flourish. Enter Aaron alone. Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe, Safe out of Fortunes shot, and sits aloft, Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash, Aduanc'd about pale enuies threatning reach: As when the golden Sunne salutes the morne, And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames, Gallops the Zodiacke in his glistering Coach, And ouer-lookes the highest piering hills: So Tamora Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite, And vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne. Then Aaron arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Mistris, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fettred in amorous chaines, And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes, Then is Prometheus ti'de to Caucasus. Away with slauish weedes, and idle thoughts, I will be bright and shine in Pearle and Gold, To waite vpon this new made Empresse. To waite said I? To wanton with this Queene, This Goddesse, this Semirimis, this Queene. This Syren, that will charme Romes Saturnine, And see his shipwracke, and his Common weales. Hollo, what storme is this? Enter Chiron and Demetrius brauing.
Laui. Vnder your patience gentle Empresse, 'Tis thought you haue a goodly gift in Horning, And to be doubted, that your Moore and you Are singled forth to try experiments: Ioue sheild your husband from his Hounds to day, 'Tis pitty they should take him for a Stag Bassi. Beleeue me Queene, your swarth Cymerion, Doth make your Honour of his bodies Hue, Spotted, detested, and abhominable. Why are you sequestred from all your traine? Dismounted from your Snow-white goodly Steed, And wandred hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied with a barbarous Moore, If foule desire had not conducted you? Laui. And being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my Noble Lord, be rated For Saucinesse, I pray you let vs hence, And let her ioy her Rauen coloured loue, This valley fits the purpose passing well Bassi. The King my Brother shall haue notice of this Laui. I, for these slips haue made him noted long, Good King, to be so mightily abused Tamora. Why I haue patience to endure all this? Enter Chiron and Demetrius.
Dem. How now deere Soueraigne And our gracious Mother, Why doth your Highnes looke so pale and wan? Tamo. Haue I not reason thinke you to looke pale. These two haue tic'd me hither to this place, A barren, detested vale you see it is. The Trees though Sommer, yet forlorne and leane, Ore-come with Mosse, and balefull Misselto. Heere neuer shines the Sunne, heere nothing breeds, Vnlesse the nightly Owle, or fatall Rauen: And when they shew'd me this abhorred pit, They told me heere at dead time of the night, A thousand Fiends, a thousand hissing Snakes, Ten thousand swelling Toades, as many Vrchins, Would make such fearefull and confused cries, As any mortall body hearing it, Should straite fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But strait they told me they would binde me heere, Vnto the body of a dismall yew, And leaue me to this miserable death. And then they call'd me foule Adulteresse, Lasciuious Goth, and all the bitterest tearmes That euer eare did heare to such effect. And had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed: Reuenge it, as you loue your Mothers life, Or be ye not henceforth cal'd my Children Dem. This is a witnesse that I am thy Sonne.
Chi. And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe Dem. If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the cord. Exeunt. Winde Hornes. Enter Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia. Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast? Cosen a word, where is your husband? If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me; If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe, That I may slumber in eternall sleepe. Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in And might not gaine so great a happines As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me? Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood, Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde, Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips, Comming and going with thy hony breath. But sure some Tereus hath defloured thee, And least thou should'st detect them, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame: And notwithstanding all this losse of blood, As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts, Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans face, Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud, Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so? Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beast That I might raile at him to ease my mind. Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt.
Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is. Faire Philomela she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde. But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee, A craftier Tereus hast thou met withall, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could haue better sowed then Philomel. Oh had the monster seene those Lilly hands, Tremble like Aspen leaues vpon a Lute, And make the silken strings delight to kisse them, He would not then haue toucht them for his life. Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony, Which that sweet tongue hath made: He would haue dropt his knife and fell asleepe, As Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feete. Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde, For such a sight will blinde a fathers eye. One houres storme will drowne the fragrant meades, What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes? Doe not draw backe, for we will mourne with thee: Oh could our mourning ease thy misery. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Enter the Iudges and Senatours with Titus two sonnes bound, passing on the Stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before pleading.
Lu. Oh noble father, you lament in vaine, The Tribunes heare not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrowes to a stone Ti. Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead, Graue Tribunes, once more I intreat of you Lu. My gracious Lord, no Tribune heares you speake Ti. Why 'tis no matter man, if they did heare They would not marke me: oh if they did heare They would not pitty me. Therefore I tell my sorrowes bootles to the stones. Who though they cannot answere my distresse, Yet in some sort they are better then the Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale; When I doe weepe, they humbly at my feete Receiue my teares, and seeme to weepe with me, And were they but attired in graue weedes, Rome could afford no Tribune like to these. A stone is as soft waxe, Tribunes more hard then stones: A stone is silent, and offendeth not, And Tribunes with their tongues doome men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawne? Lu. To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Iudges haue pronounc'st My euerlasting doome of banishment Ti. O happy man, they haue befriended thee: Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceiue That Rome is but a wildernes of Tigers? Tigers must pray, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine: how happy art thou then, From these deuourers to be banished? But who comes with our brother Marcus heere? Enter Marcus and Lauinia.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody Battleaxe, Writing destruction on the enemies Castle? Oh none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath bin but idle, let it serue To ransome my two nephewes from their death, Then haue I kept it to a worthy end Moore. Nay come agree, whose hand shall goe along For feare they die before their pardon come Mar. My hand shall goe Lu. By heauen it shall not goe Ti. Sirs striue no more, such withered hearbs as these Are meete for plucking vp, and therefore mine Lu. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy sonne, Let me redeeme my brothers both from death Mar. And for our fathers sake, and mothers care, Now let me shew a brothers loue to thee Ti. Agree betweene you, I will spare my hand Lu. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe Mar. But I will vse the Axe. Exeunt. Ti. Come hither Aaron, Ile deceiue them both, Lend me thy hand, and I will giue thee mine, Moore. If that be cal'd deceit, I will be honest, And neuer whil'st I liue deceiue men so: But Ile deceiue you in another sort, And that you'l say ere halfe an houre passe. He cuts off Titus hand.
Ti. Why I haue not another teare to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would vsurpe vpon my watry eyes, And make them blinde with tributarie teares. Then which way shall I finde Reuenges Caue? For these two heads doe seeme to speake to me, And threat me, I shall neuer come to blisse, Till all these mischiefes be returned againe, Euen in their throats that haue committed them. Come let me see what taske I haue to doe, You heauie people, circle me about, That I may turne me to each one of you, And sweare vnto my soule to right your wrongs. The vow is made, come Brother take a head, And in this hand the other will I beare. And Lauinia thou shalt be employd in these things: Beare thou my hand sweet wench betweene thy teeth: As for thee boy, goe get thee from my sight, Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay, Hie to the Gothes, and raise an army there, And if you loue me, as I thinke you doe, Let's kisse and part, for we haue much to doe. Exeunt. Manet Lucius. Luci. Farewell Andronicus my noble Father: The woful'st man that euer liu'd in Rome: Farewell proud Rome, til Lucius come againe, He loues his pledges dearer then his life: Farewell Lauinia my noble sister, O would thou wert as thou to fore hast beene, But now, nor Lucius nor Lauinia liues But in obliuion and hateful griefes: If Lucius liue, he will requit your wrongs, And make proud Saturnine and his Empresse Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his Queene. Now will I to the Gothes and raise a power, To be reueng'd on Rome and Saturnine.
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, Perhaps 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 erst, 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.
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 playeth 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.
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 some where 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 wrongs: Come to this geare, you are a good Archer Marcus.
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 life blood 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? ber Lady, then I haue brought vp a neck to a faire end. Enter. 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 slaughter man: Sly franticke wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thy selfe should gouerne Rome and me. Enter Nuntius Emillius.
Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill, To liue and burne in euerlasting fire, So I might haue your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue Luci. Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speake no more. Enter Emillius. Goth. My Lord, there is a Messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence Luc. Let him come neere. Welcome Emillius, what the newes from Rome? Emi. Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Gothes, The Romaine Emperour greetes you all by me, And for he vnderstands you are in Armes, He craues a parly at your Fathers house Willing you to demand your Hostages, And they shall be immediately deliuered Goth. What saies our Generall? Luc. Emillius, let the Emperour giue his pledges Vnto my Father, and my Vncle Marcus, Flourish. And we will come: march away. Exeunt. Enter Tamora, and her two Sonnes disguised. Tam. Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say, I am Reuenge sent from below, To ioyne with him and right his hainous wrongs: Knocke at his study where they say he keepes, To ruminate strange plots of dire Reuenge, Tell him Reuenge is come to ioyne with him, And worke confusion on his Enemies. They knocke and Titus opens his study dore.
Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded. Stop close their mouthes, let them not speake a word, Is he sure bound, looke that you binde them fast. Exeunt. Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason. Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound, Sirs stop their mouthes, let them not speake to me, But let them heare what fearefull words I vtter. Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius, Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud, This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt, You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd fault, Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off, and made a merry iest, Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere Then Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity, Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st. What would you say, if I should let you speake? Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace. Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you, This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats, Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold: The Bason that receiues your guilty blood. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me, And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste, And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare, And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads, And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam, Like to the earth swallow her increase. This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to, And this the Banquet she shall surfet on, For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter, And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd, And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small, And with this hatefull Liquor temper it, And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte, Come, come, be euery one officious, To make this Banket, which I wish might proue, More sterne and bloody then the Centaures Feast. He cuts their throats.
Boy. O Grandsire, Grandsire: euen with all my heart Would I were Dead, so you did Liue againe. O Lord, I cannot speake to him for weeping, My teares will choake me, if I ope my mouth Romans. You sad Andronici, haue done with woes, Giue sentence on this execrable Wretch, That hath beene breeder of these dire euents Luc. Set him brest deepe in earth, and famish him: There let him stand, and raue, and cry for foode: If any one releeues, or pitties him, For the offence, he dyes. This is our doome: Some stay, to see him fast'ned in the earth Aron. O why should wrath be mute, & Fury dumbe? I am no Baby I, that with base Prayers I should repent the Euils I haue done. Ten thousand worse, then euer yet I did, Would I performe if I might haue my will: If one good Deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very Soule Lucius. Some louing Friends conuey the Emp[erour]. hence, And giue him buriall in his Fathers graue. My Father, and Lauinia, shall forthwith Be closed in our Housholds Monument: As for that heynous Tyger Tamora, No Funerall Rite, nor man in mournfull Weeds: No mournfull Bell shall ring her Buriall: But throw her foorth to Beasts and Birds of prey: Her life was Beast-like, and deuoid of pitty, And being so, shall haue like want of pitty. See Iustice done on Aaron that damn'd Moore, From whom, our heauy happes had their beginning: Then afterwards, to Order well the State, That like Euents, may ne're it Ruinate.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.