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-born son that was the last 
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome ;
Then let my father's honours live in me ,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity .

Romans , friends , followers , favourers of my right ,
If ever Bassianus , C sar'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 .


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 yok'd a nation , strong , train'd up in arms .
Ten years are spent since first he undertook 
This cause of Rome , and chastised with arms 
Our enemies' pride : five times he hath return'd 
Bleeding to Rome , bearing his valiant sons 
In coffins from the field ;
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 Capitol 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 .

How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts !

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 weigh'd .


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 .

Tribunes , and me , a poor competitor .

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 return'd 
From where he circumscribed with his sword ,
And brought to yoke , the enemies of Rome .

Hail , Rome , victorious in thy mourning weeds !
Lo ! as the bark , that hath discharg'd her fraught ,
Returns with precious lading to the bay 
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage ,
Cometh Andronicus , bound with laurel boughs ,
To re-salute his country with his tears ,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome .
Thou great defender of this Capitol ,
Stand gracious to the rites 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 among their ancestors :
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword .
Titus , unkind and careless of thine own ,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons , unburied yet 
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ?
Make way to lay them by their brethren .

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 of mine hast thou in store ,
That thou wilt never render to me more !

Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths ,
That we may hew his limbs , and on a pile 
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh ,
Before this earthy prison of their bones ;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd ,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth .

I give him you , the noblest that survives 
The eldest son of this distressed queen .

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 ,
O ! 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 slaughter'd 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 :
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods ?
Draw near them then in being merciful ;
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge :
Thrice-noble Titus , spare my first-born son .

Patient 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 mark'd , and die he must ,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone .

Away with him ! and make a fire straight ;
And with our swords , upon a pile of wood ,
Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd .


O cruel , irreligious piety !

Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?

Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome .
Alarbus goes to rest , and we survive 
To tremble under Titus' threatening look .
Then , madam , stand resolv'd ; but hope withal 
The self-same gods , that arm'd 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 .


See , lord and father , how we have perform'd 
Our Roman rites . Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd ,
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 .

Let it be so ; and let Andronicus 
Make this his latest farewell to their souls .

In peace and honour rest you here , my sons ;
Rome's 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 !


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 the earth for thy return to Rome .
O ! bless me here with thy victorious hand ,
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud .

Kind Rome , that hast thus lovingly reserv'd 
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart !
Lavinia , live ; outlive thy father's days ,
And fame's eternal date , for virtue's praise !


Long live Lord Titus , my beloved brother ,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome !

Thanks , gentle Tribune , noble brother 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 aspir'd 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 emperor's sons :
Be candidatus then , and put it on ,
And help to set a head on headless Rome .

A better head her glorious body fits 
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness .
What should I don 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 ?
Rome , 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 .

Titus , thou shalt obtain and ask the empery .

Proud and ambitious tribune , canst thou tell ?

Patience , Prince Saturninus .

Romans , do me right :
Patricians , draw your swords , and sheathe them not 
Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor .
Andronicus , would thou wert shipp'd to hell ,
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts !

Proud Saturnine , interrupter of the good 
That noble-minded Titus means to thee !

Content thee , prince ; I will restore to thee 
The people's hearts , and wean them from themselves .

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 .

People of Rome , and people's tribunes here ,
I ask your voices and your suffrages :
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus ?

To gratify the good Andronicus ,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome ,
The people will accept whom he admits .

Tribunes , I thank you ; and this suit I make ,
That you create your emperor's eldest son ,
Lord Saturnine ; whose virtues will , I hope ,
Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth ,
And ripen justice in this commonweal :
Then , if you will elect by my advice ,
Crown him , and say , 'Long live our emperor !' 

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 !' 


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 Pantheon her espouse .
Tell me , Andronicus , doth this motion please thee ?

It doth , my worthy lord ; and in this match 
I hold me highly honour'd of your Grace :
And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine ,
King and commander of our commonweal ,
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 owe ,
Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet .

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 .

Now , madam , are you prisoner to an emperor ;
To him that , for your honour and your state ,
Will use you nobly and your followers .

A goodly lady , trust me ; of the hue 
That I would choose , were I to choose anew .
Clear up , fair queen , that cloudy countenance :
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer ,
Thou com'st 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 displeas'd with this ?

Not I , my lord ; sith true nobility 
Warrants these words in princely courtesy .

Thanks , sweet Lavinia . Romans , let us go ;
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free :
Proclaim our honours , lords , with trump and drum .


Lord Titus , by your leave , this maid is mine .


How , sir ! Are you in earnest then , my lord ?

Ay , noble Titus ; and resolv'd withal 
To do myself this reason and this right .

Suum cuique is our Roman justice :
This prince in justice seizeth but his own .

And that he will , and shall , if Lucius live .

Traitors , avaunt ! Where is the emperor's guard ?
Treason , my lord ! Lavinia is surpris'd .

Surpris'd ! By whom ?

By him that justly may 
Bear his betroth'd from all the world away .


Brothers , help to convey her hence away ,
And with my sword I'll keep this door safe .


Follow , my lord , and I'll soon bring her back .

My lord , you pass not here .

What ! villain boy ;
Barr'st me my way in Rome ?


Help , Lucius , help !

My lord , you are unjust ; and , more than so ,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son .

Nor thou , nor he , are any sons of mine ;
My sons would never so dishonour me .
Traitor , restore Lavinia to the emperor .

Dead , if you will ; but not to be his wife 
That is another's lawful promis'd love .


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 ;
Thee never , nor thy traitorous haughty sons ,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me .
Was none in Rome to make a stale 
But Saturnine ? Full well , Andronicus ,
Agreed these deeds with that proud brag of thine ,
That saidst I begg'd the empire at thy hands .

O monstrous ! what reproachful words are these !

But go thy ways ; go , give that changing piece 
To him that flourish'd 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 .

These words are razors to my wounded heart .

And therefore , lovely Tamora , Queen of Goths ,
That like the stately Ph be 'mongst her nymphs ,
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome ,
If thou be pleas'd 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 Hymen us stand ,
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome ,
Or climb my palace , till from forth this place 
I lead espous'd my bride along with me .

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 .

Ascend , fair queen , Pantheon . 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 rights .


I am not bid to wait upon this bride .
Titus , when wert thou wont to walk alone ,
Dishonour'd thus , and challenged of wrongs ?


O ! Titus , see , O ! see what thou hast done ;
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son .

No , foolish tribune , no ; no son of mine ,
Nor thou , nor these , confederates in the deed 
That hath dishonour'd all our family :
Unworthy brother , and unworthy sons !

But let us give him burial , as becomes ;
Give Mutius burial with our brethren .

Traitors , away ! he rests not in this tomb .
This monument five hundred 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 .
Bury him where you can ; he comes not here .

My lord , this is impiety in you .
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him ;
He must be buried with his brethren .

And shall , or him we will accompany .

And shall , or him we will accompany .

And shall ! What villain was it spake that word ?

He that would vouch it in any place but here .

What ! would you bury him in my despite ?

No , noble Titus ; but entreat of thee 
To pardon Mutius , and to bury him .

Marcus , even thou hast struck 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 .

He is not with himself ; let us withdraw .

Not I , till Mutius' bones be buried .


Brother , for in that name doth nature plead ,

Father , and in that name doth nature speak ,

Speak thou no more , if all the rest will speed .

Renowned Titus , more than half my soul ,

Dear father , soul and substance of us all ,

Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter 
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest ,
That died in honour and Lavinia's cause .
Thou art a Roman ; be not barbarous :
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax 
That slew himself ; and wise Laertes' son 
Did graciously plead for his funerals .
Let not young Mutius then , that was thy joy ,
Be barr'd his entrance here .

Rise , Marcus , rise .
The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw ,
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome !
Well , bury him , and bury me the next .


There lie thy bones , sweet Mutius , with thy friends ,
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb .

No man shed tears for noble Mutius ;
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause .

My lord ,to step out of these dreary dumps ,
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths 
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome ?

I know not , Marcus ; but I know it is ,
Whether by device or no , the heavens can tell .
Is she not , then , beholding to the man 
That brought her for this high good turn so far ?

Yes , and will nobly him remunerate .

So , Bassianus , you have play'd your prize :
God give you joy , sir , of your gallant bride .

And you of yours , my lord ! I say no more ,
Nor wish no less ; and so I take my leave .

Traitor , if Rome have law or we have power ,
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape .

Rape call you it , my lord , to seize my own ,
My true-betrothed love and now my wife ?
But let the laws of Rome determine all ;
Meanwhile , I am possess'd of that is mine .

'Tis good , sir : you are very short with us ;
But , if we live , we'll be as sharp with you .

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 owe to Rome ,
This noble gentleman , Lord Titus here ,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd ;
That , in the rescue of Lavinia ,
With his own hand did slay his youngest son ,
In zeal to you and highly mov'd to wrath 
To be controll'd in that he frankly gave :
Receive him then to favour , Saturnine ,
That hath express'd himself in all his deeds 
A father and a friend to thee and Rome .

Prince Bassianus , leave to plead my deeds :
'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me .
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge ,
How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine !

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 .

What , madam ! be dishonour'd openly ,
And basely put it up without revenge ?

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 rul'd 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 raze their faction and their family ,
The cruel father , and his traitorous sons ,
To whom I sued for my dear son's 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 :

Rise , Titus , rise ; my empress hath prevail'd .

I thank your majesty , and her , my lord .
These words , these looks , infuse new life in me .

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 reconcil'd your friends and you .
For you , Prince Bassianus , I have pass'd 
My word and promise to the emperor ,
That you will be more mild and tractable .
And fear not , lords , and you , Lavinia ,
By my advice , 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 mildly , as we might ,
Tendering our sister's honour and our own .

That on mine honour here I do protest .

Away , and talk not ; trouble us no more .

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 .

Marcus , for thy sake , and thy brother's here ,
And at my lovely Tamora's 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 emperor's court can feast two brides ,
You are my guest , Lavinia , and your friends .
This day shall be a love-day , Tamora .

To-morrow , an it please your majesty 
To hunt the panther and the hart with me ,
With horn and hound we'll give your Grace bon jour .

Be it so , Titus , and gramercy too .


Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top ,
Safe out of Fortune's shot ; and sits aloft ,
Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash ,
Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach .
As when the golden sun salutes the morn ,
And , having gilt the ocean with his beams ,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach ,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills ;
So Tamora .
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait 
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown .
Then , Aaron , 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 , fetter'd in amorous chains ,
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes 
Than is Prometheus tied 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 Semiramis , this nymph ,
This siren , that will charm Rome's Saturnine ,
And see his shipwrack and his commonweal's .
Holla ! what storm is this ?


Chiron , thy years want wit , thy wit wants edge 
And manners , to intrude where I am grac'd ,
And may , for aught thou know'st , affected be .

Demetrius , thou dost over-ween 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 .

Clubs , clubs ! these lovers will not keep the peace .

Why , boy , although our mother , unadvis'd ,
Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side ,
Are you so desperate grown , to threat your friends ?
Go to ; have your lath glu'd within your sheath 
Till you know better how to handle it .

Meanwhile , sir , with the little skill I have ,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare .

Ay , boy , grow ye so brave ?


Why , how now , lords !
So near the emperor's palace dare you 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 dishonour'd in the court of Rome .
For shame , put up .

Not I , till I have sheath'd 
My rapier in his bosom , and withal 
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat 
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here .

For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd ,
Foul-spoken coward , that thunder'st with thy tongue ,
And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform !

Away , I say !
Now , by the gods that war-like 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 loose ,
Or Bassianus so degenerate ,
That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd 
Without controlment , justice , or revenge ?
Young lords , beware ! an should the empress know 
This discord's ground , the music would not please .

I care not , I , knew she and all the world :
I love Lavinia more than all the world .

Youngling , learn thou to make some meaner choice :
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope .

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 device .

Aaron , a thousand deaths 
Would I propose , to achieve her whom I love .

To achieve her ! how ?

Why mak'st thou it so strange ?
She is a woman , therefore may be woo'd ;
She is a woman , therefore may be won ;
She is Lavinia , therefore must be lov'd .
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 Bassianus be the emperor's brother ,
Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge .

Ay , and as good as Saturninus may .

Then why should he despair that knows to court it 
With words , fair looks , and liberality ?
What ! hast thou not full often struck a doe ,
And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose ?

Why , then , it seems , some certain snatch or so 
Would serve your turns .

Ay , so the turn were serv'd .

Aaron , thou hast hit it .

Would you had hit it too !
Then should not we be tir'd 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 ?

Faith , not me .

Nor me , so I were one .

For shame , be friends , and join for that you jar :
'Tis 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 , Bassianus' love .
A speedier course than 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 troop :
The forest walks are wide and spacious ,
And many unfrequented plots there are 
Fitted by kind for rape and villany :
Single you thither then this dainty doe ,
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 villany and vengeance consecrate ,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend ;
And she shall file our engines with advice ,
That will not suffer you to square yourselves ,
But to your wishes' height advance you both .
The emperor's 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 lusts , shadow'd from heaven's eye ,
And revel in Lavinia's treasury .

Thy counsel , lad , smells of no cowardice .

Sit fas aut nefas , till I find the stream 
To cool this heat , a charm to calm these fits ,
Per Styga , per manes vehor .

The hunt is up , the morn 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 emperor's person carefully :
I have been troubled in my sleep this night ,
But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd .

Many good morrows to your majesty ;
Madam , to you as many and as good ;

I promised your Grace a hunter's peal .

And you have rung it lustily , my lord ;
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies .

Lavinia , how say you ?

I say , no ;
I have been broad awake two hours and more .

Come on , then ; horse and chariots let us have ,
And to our sport .

Madam , now shall ye see 
Our Roman hunting .

I have dogs , my lord ,
Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase ,
And climb the highest promontory top .

And I have horse will follow where the game 
Makes way , and run like swallows o'er the plain .

Chiron , we hunt not , we , with horse nor hound ,
But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground .


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 , cunningly effected , will beget 
A very excellent piece of villany :
And so repose , sweet gold , for their unrest 
That have their alms out of the empress' chest .

My lovely Aaron , wherefore look'st thou sad ,
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast ?
The birds chant melody on every bush ,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind ,
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground .
Under their sweet shade , Aaron , let us sit ,
And , whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds ,
Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns ,
As if a double hunt were heard at once ,
Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise ;
And after conflict , such as was suppos'd 
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd ,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd ,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave ,
We may , each wreathed in the other's arms ,
Our pastimes done , possess a golden slumber ;
Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds 
Be unto us as is a nurse's song 
Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep .

Madam , though Venus govern your desires ,
Saturn is dominator over mine :
What signifies my deadly-standing eye ,
My silence and my cloudy melancholy ;
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls 
Even as an adder when she doth unroll 
To do some fatal execution ?
No , madam , these are no venereal 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 Philomel must lose her tongue to-day ,
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity ,
And wash their hands in Bassianus' 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 booty ,
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction .

Ah ! my sweet Moor , sweeter to me than life .

No more , great empress ; Bassianus comes :
Be cross with him ; and I'll go fetch thy sons 
To back thy quarrels , whatsoe'er they be .

Who have we here ? Rome's royal empress ,
Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop ?
Or is it Dian , habited like her ,
Who hath abandoned her holy groves ,
To see the general hunting in this forest ?

Saucy controller of our private steps !
Had I the power that some say Dian had ,
Thy temples should be planted presently 
With horns , as was Act on's ; and the hounds 
Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs ,
Unmannerly intruder as thou art !

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 experiments .
Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day !
'Tis pity they should take him for a stag .

Believe me , queen , your swarth Cimmerian 
Doth make your honour of his body's hue ,
Spotted , detested , and abominable .
Why are you sequester'd from all your train ,
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed ,
And wander'd hither to an obscure plot ,
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor ,
If foul desire had not conducted you ?

And , being intercepted in your sport ,
Great reason that my noble lord be rated 
For sauciness . I pray you , let us hence ,
And let her joy her raven-colour'd love ;
This valley fits the purpose passing well .

The king my brother shall have note of this .

Ay , for these slips have made him noted long :
Good king , to be so mightily abus'd !

Why have I patience to endure all this ?


How now , dear sovereign , and our gracious mother !
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan ?

Have I not reason , think you , to look pale ?
These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place :
A barren detested vale , you see , it is ;
The trees , though summer , yet forlorn and lean ,
O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe :
Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds ,
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven :
And when they show'd 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 yew ,
And leave me to this miserable death :
And then they called me foul adulteress ,
Lascivious 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 henceforth call'd my children .

This is a witness that I am thy son .


And this for me , struck home to show my strength .


Ay , come , Semiramis , nay , barbarous Tamora ;
For no name fits thy nature but thy own .

Give me thy poniard ; you shall know , my boys ,
Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong .

Stay , madam ; here is more belongs to her :
First thrash the corn , than after burn the straw .
This minion stood upon her chastity ,
Upon her nuptial vow , her loyalty ,
And with that painted hope she braves your mightiness :
And shall she carry this unto her grave ?

An 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 .

But when ye have the honey ye desire ,
Let not this wasp outlive , us both to sting .

I warrant you , madam , we will make that sure .
Come , mistress , now perforce we will enjoy 
That nice-preserved honesty of yours .

O Tamora ! thou bear'st a woman's face ,

I will not hear her speak ; away with her !

Sweet lords , entreat her hear me but a word .

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 .

When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam ?
O ! do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee ;
The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble ;
Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny .
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike :


Do thou entreat her show a woman pity .

What ! wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard ?

'Tis true ! the raven doth not hatch a lark :
Yet have I heard , O ! could I find it now ,
The lion mov'd with pity did endure 
To have his princely paws par'd all away .
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children ,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests :
O ! be to me , though thy hard heart say no ,
Nothing so kind , but something pitiful .

I know not what it means ; away with her !

O , 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 ears .

Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me ,
Even for his sake am I pitiless .
Remember , boys , I pour'd 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 lov'd of me .

O Tamora ! be call'd a gentle queen ,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place ;
For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long ;
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died .

What begg'st thou then ? fond woman , let me go .

'Tis present death I beg ; and one thing more 
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell .
O ! keep me from their worse than killing lust ,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit ,
Where never man's eye may behold my body :
Do this , and be a charitable murderer .

So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee :
No , let them satisfy their lust on thee .

Away ! for thou hast stay'd us here too long .

No grace ! no womanhood ! Ah , beastly creature ,
The blot and enemy to our general name .
Confusion fall 

Nay , then I'll stop your mouth . Bring thou her husband :
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him .

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

Come on , my lords , the better foot before :
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit 
Where I espied the panther fast asleep .

My sight is very dull , whate'er it bodes .

And mine , I promise you : were't not for shame ,
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile .


What ! art thou fall'n ? What subtle hole is this ,
Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers ,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood 
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers ?
A very fatal place it seems to me .
Speak , brother , hast thou hurt thee with the fall ?

O brother ! with the dismall'st object hurt 
That ever eye with sight made heart lament .

Now will I fetch the king to find them here ,
That he thereby may give a likely guess 
How these were they that made away his brother .


Why dost not comfort me , and help me out 
From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole ?

I am surprised with an uncouth fear ;
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints :
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see .

To prove thou hast a true-divining heart ,
Aaron and thou look down into this den ,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death .

Aaron is gone ; and my compassionate heart 
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise .
O ! tell me how it is ; for ne'er till now 
Was I a child , to fear I know not what .

Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here ,
All on a heap , like to a slaughter'd lamb ,
In this detested , dark , blood-drinking pit .

If it be dark , how dost thou know 'tis he ?

Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
A precious ring , that lightens all the hole ,
Which , like a taper in some monument ,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks ,
And shows the ragged entrails of the pit :
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus 
When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood .
O brother ! help me with thy fainting hand ,
If fear hath made thee faint , as me it hath ,
Out of this fell devouring receptacle ,
As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth .

Reach me thy hand , that I may help thee out ;
Or , wanting strength to do thee so much good 
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb 
Of this deep pit , poor Bassianus' grave .
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink .

Nor I no strength to climb without thy help .

Thy hand once more ; I will not loose again ,
Till thou art here aloft , or I below .
Thou canst not come to me : I come to thee .

Along with me : I'll see what hole is here ,
And what he is that now is leap'd into it .
Say , who art thou that lately didst descend 
Into this gaping hollow of the earth ?

The unhappy son of old Andronicus ;
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour ,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead .

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 him there .

We know not where you left him all alive ;
But , out alas ! here have we found him dead .


Where is my lord , the king ?

Here , Tamora ; though griev'd with killing grief .

Where is thy brother Bassianus ?

Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound :
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered .

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 .

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 overshades the mouth of that same pit 
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus :
Do this , and purchase us thy lasting friends .
O Tamora ! was ever heard the like ?
This is the pit , and this the elder-tree .
Look , sirs , if you can find the huntsman out 
That should have murder'd Bassianus here .

My gracious lord , here is the bag of gold .

Two of thy whelps , fell curs of bloody kind ,
Have here bereft my brother of his life .
Sirs , drag them from the pit unto the prison :
There let them bide until we have devis'd 
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them .

What ! are they in this pit ? O wondrous thing !
How easily murder is discovered !

High emperor , upon my feeble knee 
I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed ;
That this fell fault of my accursed sons ,
Accursed , if the fault be prov'd in them ,

If it be prov'd ! you see it is apparent .
Who found this letter ? Tamora , was it you ?

Andronicus himself did take it up .

I did , my lord : yet let me be their bail ;
For , by my father's reverend tomb , I vow 
They shall be ready at your highness' will 
To answer their suspicion with their lives .

Thou shalt not bail them : see thou follow me .
Some bring the murder'd 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 .

Andronicus , I will entreat the king :
Fear not thy sons , they shall do well enough .

Come , Lucius , come ; stay not to talk with them .


So , now go tell , an if thy tongue can speak ,
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee .

Write down thy mind , bewray thy meaning so ;
An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe .

See , how with signs and tokens she can scrowl .

Go home , call for sweet water , wash thy hands .

She hath no tongue to call , nor hands to wash ;
And so let's leave her to her silent walks .

An 'twere my case , I should go hang myself .

If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord .

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

Hear me , grave fathers ! noble tribunes , stay !
For pity of mine age , whose youth was spent 
In dangerous wars , whilst you securely slept ;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd ;
And for these bitter tears , which now you see 
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons ,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought .
For two and twenty sons I never wept ,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed .
For these , these , tribunes , in the dust I write 

My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears .
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite ;
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush .

O earth ! I will befriend thee more with rain ,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns ,
Than youthful April shall with all his 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 on thy face ,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood .


O reverend tribunes ! O gentle , aged men !
Unbind my sons , reverse the doom of death :
And let me say , that never wept before ,

My tears are now prevailing orators .

O noble father , you lament in vain :
The tribunes hear you not , no man is by ;
And you recount your sorrows to a stone .

Ah ! Lucius , for thy brothers let me plead .
Grave tribunes , once more I entreat of you ,

My gracious lord , no tribune hears you speak .

Why , 'tis no matter , man : if they did hear ,
They would not mark me , or if they did mark ,
They would not pity me , yet plead I must ,
All 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 tribune like to these .
A stone is soft as wax , tribunes more hard than stones ;
A stone is silent , and offendeth not ,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death .

But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn ?

To rescue my two brothers from their death ;
For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd 
My everlasting doom of banishment .

O happy man ! they have befriended thee .
Why , foolish Lucius , dost thou not perceive 
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?
Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey 
But me and mine : how happy art thou then ,
From these devourers to be banished !
But who comes with our brother Marcus here ?


Titus , prepare thy aged eyes to weep ;
Or , if not so , thy noble heart to break :
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age .

Will it consume me ? let me see it then .

This was thy daughter .

Why , Marcus , so she is .

Ay me ! this object kills me .

Faint-hearted boy , arise , and look upon her .
Speak , Lavinia , what accursed hand 
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight ?
What fool hath added water to the sea ,
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy ?
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st ;
And now , like Nilus , it disdaineth bounds .
Give me a sword , I'll chop off my hands too ;
For they have fought for Rome , and all in vain ;
And they have nurs'd this woe , in feeding life ;
In bootless prayer have they been held up ,
And they have serv'd me to effectless use :
Now all the service I require of them 
Is that the one will help to cut the other .
'Tis well , Lavinia , that thou hast no hands ,
For hands , to do Rome service , are but vain .

Speak , gentle sister , who hath martyr'd thee ?

O ! that delightful engine of her thoughts ,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence ,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage ,
Where , like a sweet melodious bird , it sung 
Sweet varied notes , enchanting every ear .

O ! say thou for her , who hath done this deed ?

O ! thus I found her straying in the park ,
Seeking to hide herself , as doth the deer ,
That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound .

It was my dear ; and he that wounded her 
Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead :
For now I stand as one upon a rock 
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave ,
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him .
This way to death my wretched sons are gone ;
Here stands my other son , a banish'd man ,
And here my brother , weeping at my woes :
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn ,
Is dear Lavinia , dearer than my soul .
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight 
It would have madded me : what shall I do 
Now I behold thy lively body so ?
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears ,
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee :
Thy husband he is dead , and for his death 
Thy brothers are condemn'd , and dead by this .
Look ! Marcus ; ah ! son Lucius , look on her :
When I did name her brothers , then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks , as doth the honey-dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd .

Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband ;
Perchance because she knows them innocent .

If they did kill thy husband , then be joyful ,
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them .
No , no , they would not do so foul a deed ;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes .
Gentle Lavinia , let me kiss thy lips ;
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease .
Shall thy good uncle , and thy brother Lucius ,
And thou , and I , sit round about some fountain ,
Looking all downwards , to behold our cheeks 
How they are stain'd , like meadows yet not dry ,
With miry alime left on them by a flood ?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long 
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness ,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears ?
Or shall we cut away our hands , like thine ?
Or shall we bite our tongues , and in dumb shows 
Pass the remainder of our hateful days ?
What shall we do ? let us , that have our tongues ,
Plot some device of further misery ,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come .

Sweet father , cease your tears ; for at your grief 
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps .

Patience , dear niece . Good Titus , dry thine eyes .

Ah ! Marcus , Marcus , brother ; well I wot 
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine ,
For thou , poor man , hast drown'd it with thine own .

Ah ! my Lavinia , I will wipe thy cheeks .

Mark , Marcus , mark ! I understand her signs :
Had she a tongue to speak , now would she say 
That to her brother which I said to thee :
His napkin , with his true tears all bewet ,
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks .
O ! what a sympathy of woe is this ;
As far from help as limbo is from bliss .


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 .

O gracious emperor ! O gentle Aaron !
Did ever raven sing so like a lark ,
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ?
With all my heart , I'll send the emperor my hand :
Good Aaron , wilt thou help to chop it off ?

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 brothers' lives .

Which of your hands hath not defended Rome ,
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe ,
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle ?
O ! 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 .

Nay , come , agree whose hand shall go along ,
For fear they die before their pardon come .

My hand shall go .

By heaven , it shall not go !

Sirs , strive no more : such wither'd herbs as these 
Are meet for plucking up , and therefore mine .

Sweet father , if I shall be thought thy son ,
Let me redeem my brothers both from death .

And for our father's sake , and mother's care ,
Now let me show a brother's love to thee .

Agree between you ; I will spare my hand .

Then I'll go fetch an axe .

But I will use the axe .


Come hither , Aaron ; I'll deceive them both :
Lend me thy hand , and I will give thee mine .

If that be call'd 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 .

Now stay your strife : what shall be is dispatch'd .
Good Aaron , give his majesty my hand :
Tell him it was a hand that warded him 
From thousand dangers ; bid him bury it ;
More hath it merited ; that let it have .
As for my sons , say I account of them 
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price ;
And yet dear too , because I bought mine own .

I go , Andronicus ; and for thy hand ,
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee .


Their heads , I mean . O ! how this villany 
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it .
Let fools do good , and fair men call for grace ,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face .


O ! here I lift this one hand up to heaven ,
And how this feeble ruin to the earth :
If any power pities wretched tears ,
To that I call !

What ! wilt 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 .

O ! brother , speak with possibilities ,
And do not break into these deep extremes .

Is not my sorrow deep , having no bottom ?
Then be my passions bottomless with them .

But yet let reason govern thy lament .

If there were reason for these miseries ,
Then into limits could I bind my woes .
When heaven doth weep , doth not the earth o'erflow ?
If the winds rage , doth not the sea wax mad ,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face ?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?
I am the sea ; hark ! how her sighs do blow ;
She is the weeping welkin , I the earth :
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ;
Then must my earth with her continual tears 
Become a deluge , overflow'd and drown'd ;
For why my bowels cannot hide her woes ,
But like a drunkard must I vomit them .
Then give me leave , for losers will have leave 
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues .


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 griefs their sports , thy resolution mock'd ;
That woe is me to think upon thy woes ,
More than remembrance of my father's death .


Now let hot  tna cool in Sicily ,
And be my heart an ever burning hell !
These miseries are more than may be borne .
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal ,
But sorrow flouted at is double death .

Ah ! that this sight should make so deep a wound ,
And yet detested life not shrink thereat ,
That ever death should let life bear his name ,
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe .


Alas ! poor heart ; that kiss is comfortless 
As frozen water to a starved snake .

When will this fearful slumber have an end ?

Now , farewell , flattery : die , Andronicus ;
Thou dost not slumber : see , thy two sons' heads ,
Thy war-like hand , thy mangled daughter here ;
Thy other banish'd son , with this dear sight 
Struck pale and bloodless ; and thy brother , I ,
Even like a stony image , cold and numb .
Ah ! now no more will I control thy griefs .
Rent off thy silver hair , thy other hand 
Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight 
The closing up of our most wretched eyes !
Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still ?

Ha , ha , ha !

Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this hour .

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 Revenge's cave ?
For these two heads do seem to speak to me ,
And threat me I shall never come to bliss 
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again 
Even in their throats that have committed them .
Come , let me see what task I have to do .
You heavy people , circle me about ,
That I may turn me to each one of you ,
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs .
The vow is made . Come , brother , take a head ;
And in this hand the other will I bear .
Lavinia , thou shalt be employ'd in these things :
Bear thou my hand , sweet wench , between thy teeth .
As for thee , boy , go get thee from my sight ;
Thou art an exile , and thou must not stay :
Hie to the Goths , and raise an army there :
And if you love me , as I think you do ,
Let's kiss and part , for we have much to do .


Farewell , Andronicus , my noble father ;
The woefull'st man that ever liv'd in Rome :
Farewell , proud Rome ; till Lucius come again ,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life .
Farewell , Lavinia , my noble sister ;
O ! would thou wert as thou tofore hast been ;
But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives 
But in oblivion and hateful griefs .
If Lucius live , he will requite your wrongs ,
And make proud Saturnine and his empress 
Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen .
Now will I to the Goths , and raise a power ,
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine .


So , so ; now sit ; and look you eat no more 
Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours .
Marcus , unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot :
Thy niece and I , poor creatures , want our hands ,
And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief 
With folded arms . This poor right hand of mine 
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast ;
And when my heart , all mad with misery ,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh ,
Then thus I thump it down .


Thou map of woe , that thus dost talk in signs !
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating 
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still .
Wound it with sighing , girl , kill it with groans ;
Or get some little knife between thy teeth ,
And just against thy heart make thou a hole ;
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall 
May run into that sink , and , soaking in ,
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears .

Fie , brother , fie ! teach her not thus to lay 
Such violent hands upon her tender life .

How now ! has sorrow made thee dote already ?
Why , Marcus , no man should be mad but I .
What violent hands can she lay on her life ?
Ah ! wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands ;
To bid  aeas tell the tale twice o'er ,
How Troy was burnt and he made miserable ?
O ! handle not the theme , to talk of hands ,
Lest we remember still that we have none .
Fie , fie ! how franticly I square my talk ,
As if we should forget we had no hands ,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands .
Come , let's fall to ; and , gentle girl , eat this :
Here is no drink . Hark , Marcus , what she says ;
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs :
She says she drinks no other drink but tears ,
Brew'd with her sorrow , mash'd upon her cheeks .
Speechless complainer , I will learn thy thought ;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect 
As begging hermits in their holy prayers :
Thou shalt not sigh , nor hold thy stumps to heaven ,
Nor wink , nor nod , nor kneel , nor make a sign ,
But I of these will wrest an alphabet ,
And by still practice learn to know thy meaning .

Good grandsire , leave these bitter deep laments :
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale .

Alas ! the tender boy , in passion mov'd ,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness .

Peace , tender sapling ; thou art made of tears ,
And tears will quickly melt thy life away .

What dost thou strike at , Marcus , with thy knife ?

At that that I have kill'd , my lord ; a fly .

Out on thee , murderer ! thou kill'st my heart ;
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny :
A deed of death , done on the innocent ,
Becomes not Titus' brother . Get thee gone ;
I see , thou art not for my company .

Alas ! my lord , I have but kill'd a fly .

But how if that fly had a father and a mother ?
How would he hang his slender gilded wings 
And buzz lamenting doings in the air !
Poor harmless fly ,
That , with his pretty buzzing melody ,
Came here to make us merry ! and thou hast kill'd him .

Pardon me , sir ; it was a black ill-favour'd fly ,
Like to the empress' Moor ; therefore I kill'd him .

O , O , O !
Then pardon me for reprehending thee ,
For thou hast done a charitable deed .
Give me thy knife , I will insult on him ;
Flattering myself , as if it were the Moor 
Come hither purposely to poison me .
There's for thyself , and that's for Tamora .
Ah ! sirrah .
Yet I think we are not brought so low ,
But that between us we can kill a fly 
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor .

Alas ! poor man ; grief has so wrought on him ,
He takes false shadows for true substances .

Come , take away . Lavinia , go with me :
I'll to thy closet ; and go read with thee 
Sad stories chanced in the times of old .
Come , boy , and go with me : thy sight is young ,
And thou shalt read when mine begins to dazzle .

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 .

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

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

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

What means my niece Lavinia by these signs ?

Fear her not , Lucius : somewhat doth she mean .
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 ?

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 through 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 .

Lucius , I will .


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 skill'd ;
Come , and take choice of all my library ,
And so beguile thy sorrow , till the heavens 
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed .
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus ?

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

Lucius ; what book is that she tosseth so ?

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

For love of her that's gone ,
Perhaps , she cull'd it from among the rest .

Soft ! see how busily she turns the leaves !

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 thine annoy .

See , brother , see ! note how she quotes the leaves .

Lavinia , wert thou thus surpris'd , sweet girl ,
Ravish'd and wrong'd , as Philomela was ,
Forc'd 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 ,
Pattern'd by that the poet here describes ,
By nature made for murders and for rapes .

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

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 ?

Sit 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 :
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 .
Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift !
Write thou , good niece , and here display at last 
What God will have discover'd for revenge .
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain ,
That we may know the traitors and the truth !


O ! do you read , my lord , what she hath writ ?
Stuprum , Chiron , Demetrius .

What , what ! the lustful sons of Tamora 
Performers of this heinous , bloody deed ?

Magni dominator poli ,
Tam lentus audis scelera ? tam lentus vides ?

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 ;
And swear with me , as , with the woeful fere 
And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame ,
Lord Junius Brutus sware 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 .

'Tis sure enough , an you knew how ;
But if you hunt these bear-whelps , then beware :
The dam will wake , an if she wind you 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're a young huntsman , Marcus ; let it 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 your lesson then ? Boy , what say you ?

I say , my lord , that if I were a man ,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe 
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome .

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

And , uncle , so will I , an if I live .

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 ?

Ay , with my dagger in their bosoms , grandsire .

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 .


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 batter'd shield ;
But yet so just that he will not revenge .
Revenge , ye heavens , for old Andronicus !


Demetrius , here's the son of Lucius ;
He hath some message to deliver us .

Ay , some mad message from his mad grandfather .

My lords , with all the humbleness I may ,
I greet your honours from Andronicus ;


And pray the Roman gods , confound you both !

Gramercy , lovely Lucius : what's the news ?

That you are both decipher'd , that's the news ,
For villains mark'd with rape .

May it please you ,
My grandsire , well advis'd , hath sent by me 
The goodliest weapons of his armoury ,
To gratify your honourable youth ,
The hope of Rome , for so he bade me say ;
And so I do , and with his gifts present 
Your lordships , that whenever you have need ,
You may be armed and appointed well .
And so I leave you both :

like bloody villains .


What's here ? A scroll ; and written round about ?
Let's see :

'Integer vit , scelerisque purus ,
Non eget Mauri jaculis , nec arcu .


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

Ay just , a verse in Horace ; right , you have it .


Now , what a thing it is to be an ass !
Here's no sound jest ! the old man hath found their guilt 
And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with lines ,
That wound , beyond their feeling , to the quick ;
But were our witty empress well afoot ,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit :
But let her rest in her unrest awhile .


And now , young lords , was't not a happy star 
Led us to Rome , strangers , and more than so ,
Captives , to be advanced to this height ?
It did me good before the palace gate 
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing .

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

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

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

A charitable wish and full of love .

Here lacks but your mother for to say amen .

And that would she for twenty thousand more .

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

Pray to the devils ; the gods have given us over .


Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus ?

Belike , for joy the emperor hath a son .

Soft ! who comes here ?


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

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

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

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

O ! that which I would hide from heaven's eye ,
Our empress' shame , and stately Rome's disgrace !
She is deliver'd , lords , she is deliver'd .

To whom ?

I mean , she's brought a-bed .

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

A devil .

Why , then she's the devil's dam : a joyful issue .

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

'Zounds , ye whore ! is black so base a hue ?
Sweet blowse , you are a beauteous blossom , sure .

Villain , what hast thou done ?

That which thou canst not undo .

Thou hast undone our mother .

Villain , I have done thy mother .

And therein , hellish dog , thou hast undone .
Woe to her chance , and damn'd her loathed choice !
Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend !

It shall not live .

It shall not die .

Aaron , it must ; the mother wills it so .

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

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

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 threatening 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-lim'd 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 .
Tell the empress from me , I am of age 
To keep mine own , excuse it how she can .

Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ?

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 .

By this our mother is for ever sham'd .

Rome will despise her for this foul escape .

The emperor in his rage will doom her death .

I blush to think upon this ignomy .

Why , there's the privilege your beauty bears .
Fie , treacherous hue ! that will betray with blushing 
The close enacts and counsels of the heart :
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer :
Look how the black slavesmiles 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 imprison'd 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 .

Aaron , what shall I say unto the empress ?

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 .

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 .


How many women saw this child of his ?

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 .
But say , again , how many saw the child ?

Cornelia the midwife , and myself ,
And no one else but the deliver'd empress .

The empress , the midwife , and yourself :
Two may keep counsel when the third's away .
Go to the empress ; tell her this I said :

'Weke , weke !' 
So cries a pig prepared to the spit .

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

O lord , sir , 'tis a deed of policy :
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours ,
A long-tongu'd babbling gossip ? no , lords , no .
And now be it known to you my full intent .
Not far , one Muli 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 advanc'd ,
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 ; 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 .

Aaron , I see thou wilt not trust the air 
With secrets .

For this care of Tamora ,
Herself and hers are highly hound to thee .


Now to the Goths , as swift as swallow flies :
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms ,
And secretly to greet the empress' friends .
Come on , you thick-lipp'd slave , I'll bear you hence ;
For it is you that puts us to our shifts :
I'll make you feed on berries and on roots ,
And feed on curds and whey , and suck the goat ,
And cabin in a cave , and bring you up 
To be a warrior , and command a camp .


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 Astr a reliquit :
Be you remember'd , 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 find 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 unsearch'd :
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence ;
And , kinsmen , then we may go pipe for justice .

O Publius ! is not this a heavy case ,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract ?

Therefore , my lord , it highly us concerns 
By day and night to attend him carefully ,
And feed his humour kindly as we may ,
Till time beget some careful remedy .

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 .

Publius , how now ! how now , my masters !
What ! have you met with her ?

No , my good lord ; but Pluto sends you word ,
If you will have Revenge from hell , you shall :
Marry , for Justice , she is so employ'd ,
He thinks , with Jove in heaven , or somewhere else ,
So that perforce you must needs stay a time .

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-bon'd men fram'd 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 .

Ad Javem , 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 .

Kinsmen , shoot all your shafts into the court :
We will afflict the emperor in his pride .

Now , masters , draw .

O ! well said , Lucius !
Good boy , in Virgo's lap : give it Pallas .

My lord , I aim a mile beyond the moon ;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this .

Ha ! Publius , Publius , what hast thou done ?
See , see ! thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns .

This was the sport , my lord : when Publius shot ,
The Bull , being gall'd , 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 laugh'd , and told the Moor , he should not choose 
But give them to his master for a present .

Why , there it goes : God give his lordship joy !


News ! news from heaven ! Marcus , the post is come .
Sirrah , what tidings ? have you any letters ?

Shall I have justice ? what says Jupiter ?

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

But what says Jupiter , I ask thee ?

Alas ! sir , I know not Jupiter ; I never drank with him in all my life .

Why , villain , art not thou the carrier ?

Ay , of my pigeons , sir ; nothing else .

Why , didst thou not come from heaven ?

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 emperial's men .

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 .

Tell me , can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace ?

Nay , truly , sir , I could never say grace in all my life .

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 ; meanwhile , here's money for thy charges .
Give me pen and ink .
Sirrah , can you with a grace deliver a supplication ?

Ay , sir .

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 .

I warrant you , sir ; let me alone .

Sirrah , hast thou a knife ? Come , let me see it .
Here , Marcus , fold it in the oration ;
For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant :
And when thou hast given it to the emperor ,
Knock at my door , and tell me what he says .

God be with you , sir ; I will .

Come , Marcus , let us go . Publius , follow me .

Why , lords , what wrongs are these ! Was ever seen 
An emperor of Rome thus overborne ,
Troubled , confronted thus ; and , for the extent 
Of egal justice , us'd in such contempt ?
My lords , you know , as do the mightful gods ,
However these disturbers of our peace 
Buzz in the people's ears ,there nought hath pass'd ,
But even with law , against the wilful sons 
Of old Andronicus . And what an if 
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits ,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks ,
His fits , his frenzy , and his bitterness ?
And now he writes to heaven for his redress :
See , here's to Jove , and this to Mercury ;
This to Apollo ; this to the god of war ;
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome !
What's this but libelling against the senate ,
And blazoning our injustice every where ?
A goodly humour , is it not , my lords ?
As who would say , in Rome no justice were .
But if I live , his feigned ecstasies 
Shall be no shelter to these outrages ;
But he and his shall know that justice lives 
In Saturninus' health ; whom , if she sleep ,
He'll so awake , as she in fury shall 
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives .

My gracious lord , my lovely Saturnine ,
Lord of my life , commander of my thoughts ,
Calm thee , and bear the faults of Titus' age ,
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons ,
Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd his heart ;
And rather comfort his distressed plight 
Than prosecute the meanest or the best 
For these contempts .

Why , thus it shall become 
High-witted Tamora to gloze with all :
But , Titus , I have touch'd thee to the quick ,
Thy life-blood out : if Aaron now be wise ,
Then is all safe , the anchor's in the port .

How now , good fellow ! wouldst thou speak with us ?

Yea , forsooth , an your mistership be emperial .

Empress I am , but yonder sits the emperor .

'Tis he . God and Saint Stephen give you good den .
I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here .


Go , take him away , and hang him presently .

How much money must I have ?

Come , sirrah , you must be hanged .

Hanged ! By 'r , lady , then I have brought up a neck to a fair end .


Despiteful and intolerable wrongs !
Shall I endure this monstrous villany ?
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 butcher'd 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 .

What news with thee ,  milius ?

Arm , arm , my lord ! Rome never had more cause .
The Goths have gather'd 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 .

Is war-like 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 begin our sorrows to approach :
'Tis he the common people love so much ;
Myself hath often heard them say ,
When I have walked like a private man ,
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully ,
And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor .

Why should you fear ? is not your city strong ?

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

King , be thy thoughts imperious , like thy name .
Is the sun dimm'd , that gnats do fly in it ?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing ,
And is not careful what they mean thereby ,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings 
He can at pleasure stint their melody ;
Even so 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 ,
Whenas the one is wounded with the bait ,
The other rotted with delicious feed .

But he will not entreat his son for us .

If Tamora entreat him , then he will :
For I can smooth and fill his aged ear 
With golden promises , that , were his heart 
Almost impregnable , his old ears deaf ,
Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue .


Go thou before , be our ambassador :
Say that the emperor requests a parley 
Of war-like Lucius , and appoint the meeting ,
Even at his father's house , the old Andronicus .

milius , do this message honourably :
And if he stand on hostage for his safety ,
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best .

Your bidding shall I do effectually .


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

Then go successantly , and plead to him .

Approved warriors , and my faithful friends ,
I have received letters from great Rome ,
Which signify what hate they bear their emperor ,
And how desirous of our sight they are .
Therefore , great lords , be , as your titles witness ,
Imperious and impatient of your wrongs ;
And wherein Rome hath done you any scath ,
Let him make treble satisfaction .

Brave slip , sprung from the great Andronicus ,
Whose name was once our terror , now our comfort ;
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds 
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt ,
Be bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st ,
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day 
Led by their master to the flower'd fields ,
And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora .

And , as he saith , so say we all with him .

I humbly thank him , and I thank you all .
But who comes here , led by a lusty Goth ?


Renowned Lucius , from our troops I stray'd ,
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 controll'd with this discourse :
'Peace , tawny slave , half me and half thy dam !
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 rush'd upon him ,
Surpris'd him suddenly , and brought him hither ,
To use as you think needful of the man .

O worthy Goth , this is the incarnate devil 
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand :
This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye ,
And here's the base fruit of his burning lust .
Say , wall-ey'd slave , whither wouldst thou convey 
This growing image of thy fiend-like 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 .

Touch not the boy ; he is of royal blood .

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 .
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 !' 

Say on ; and if it please me which thou speak'st ,
Thy child shall live , and I will see it nourish'd .

An 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 , villanies 
Ruthful to hear , yet piteously perform'd :
And this shall all be buried by my death ,
Unless thou swear to me my child shall live .

Tell on thy mind : I say , thy child shall live .

Swear that he shall , and then I will begin .

Who should I swear by ? thou believ'st no god :
That granted , how canst thou believe an oath ?

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 soe'er it be ,
That thou ador'st and hast in reverence ,
To save my boy , to nourish and bring him up :
Or else I will discover nought to thee .

Even by my god I swear to thee I will .

First , know thou , I begot him on the empress .

O most insatiate and luxurious woman !

Tut ! Lucius , this was but a deed of charity 
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon .
'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus ;
They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her ,
And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st .

O detestable villain ! call'st thou that trimming ?

Why , she was wash'd , and cut , and trimm'd , and 'twas 
Trim sport for them that had the doing of it .

O barbarous , beastly villains , like thyself !

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 learn'd of me 
As true a dog as ever fought at head .
Well , let my deeds be witness of my worth .
I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole 
Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay ;
I wrote the letter that thy father found ,
And hid the gold within the letter mention'd ,
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 play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ,
And , when I had it , drew myself apart ,
And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter .
I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall 
When , for his hand , he had his two sons' heads ;
Beheld his tears , and laugh'd so heartily ,
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his :
And when I told the empress of this sport ,
She swounded almost at my pleasing tale ,
And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses .

What ! canst thou say all this , and never blush ?

Ay , like a black dog , as the saying is .

Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds ?

Ay , 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 hay-stacks in the night ,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears ,
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves ,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors ,
Even when their sorrows almost were 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 .' 
Tut ! 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 .

Bring down the devil , for he must not die 
So sweet a death as hanging presently .

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 !

Sirs , stop his mouth , and let him speak no more .


My lord , there is a messenger from Rome 
Desires to be admitted to your presence .

Let him come near .

Welcome ,  milius ! what's the news from Rome ?

Lord Lucius , and you princes of the Goths ,
The Roman emperor greets you all by me ;
And , for he understands you are in arms ,
He craves a parley at your father's house ,
Willing you to demand your hostages ,
And they shall be immediately deliver'd .

What says our general ?

milius , let the emperor give his pledges 
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus ,
And we will come . March away .


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

Who doth molest my contemplation ?
Is it your trick to make me ope the door ,
That so my sad decrees may fly away ,
And all my study be to no effect ?
You are deceiv'd ; for what I mean to do ,
See here , in bloody lines I have set down ;
And what is written shall be executed .

Titus , I am come to talk with thee .

No , not a word ; how can I grace my talk ,
Wanting a hand to give it action ?
Thou hast the odds of me ; therefore no more .

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

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 ?

Know , thou sad man , I am not Tamora ;
She is thy enemy , and I thy friend :
I am Revenge , sent from the infernal kingdom ,
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind ,
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes .
Come down , and welcome me to this world's light ;
Confer with me of murder and of death .
There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place ,
No vast obscurity or misty vale ,
Where bloody murder or detested rape 
Can couch for fear , but I will find them out ;
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name ,
Revenge , which makes the foul offender quake .

Art thou Revenge ? and art thou sent to me ,
To be a torment to mine enemies ?

I am ; therefore come down , and welcome me .

Do me some service ere I come to thee .
Lo , by thy side where Rape and Murder stands ;
Now give some surance that thou art Revenge :
Stab them , or tear them on thy chariot-wheels ,
And then I'll come and be thy waggoner ,
And whirl along with thee about the globe .
Provide two proper palfreys , black as jet ,
To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away ,
And find out murderers in their guilty caves :
And when thy car is loaden with their heads ,
I will dismount , and by the waggon-wheel 
Trot like a servile footman all day long ,
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east 
Until his very downfall in the sea :
And day by day I'll do this heavy task ,
So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there .

These are my ministers , and come with me .

Are these thy ministers ? what are they call'd ?

Rapine and Murder ; therefore called so ,
Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men .

Good Lord , how like the empress' sons they are ,
And you the empress ! but we worldly men 
Have miserable , mad , mistaking eyes .
O sweet Revenge ! now do I come to thee ;
And , if one arm's embracement will content thee ,
I will embrace thee in it by and by .


This closing with him fits his lunacy .
Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits ,
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 .


Long have I been forlorn , and all for thee :
Welcome , dread Fury , to my woeful house :
Rapine and Murder , you are welcome too .
How like the empress and her sons you are !
Well are you fitted had you but a Moor :
Could not all hell afford you such a devil ?
For well I wot the empress never wags 
But in her company there is a Moor ;
And would you represent our queen aright ,
It were convenient you had such a devil .
But welcome as you are . What shall we do ?

What wouldst thou have us do , Andronicus ?

Show me a murderer , I'll deal with him .

Show me a villain that hath done a rape ,
And I am sent to be reveng'd on him .

Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong ,
And I will be revenged on them all .

Look round about the wicked streets of Rome ,
And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself ,
Good Murder , stab him ; he's a murderer .
Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap 
To find another that is like to thee ,
Good Rapine , stab him ; he's a ravisher .
Go thou with them ; and in the emperor's court 
There is a queen attended by a Moor ;
Well mayst thou know her by thy 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 .

Well hast thou lesson'd us ; this shall we do .
But would it please thee , good Andronicus ,
To send for Lucius , thy thrice-valiant son ,
Who leads towards Rome a band of war-like Goths ,
And bid him come and banquet at thy house :
When he is here , even at thy solemn feast ,
I will bring in the empress and her sons ,
The emperor himself , and all thy foes ,
And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel ,
And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart .
What says Andronicus to this device ?

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 .

This will I do , and soon return again .


Now will I hence about thy business ,
And take my ministers along with me .

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 .

What say you , boys ? will you abide with him ,
Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor 
How I have govern'd our determin'd jest ?
Yield to his humour , smooth and speak him fair ,
And tarry with him till I turn again .

I know them all , though they suppose me mad ;
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices ;
A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam .

Madam , depart at pleasure ; leave us here .

Farewell , Andronicus : Revenge now goes 
To lay a complot to betray thy foes .


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

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

Tut ! I have work enough for you to do .
Publius , come hither , Caius , and Valentine !


What is your will ?

Know you these two ?

The empress' sons ,
I take them , Chiron and Demetrius .

Fie , Publius , fie ! thou art too much deceiv'd ;
The one is Murder , Rape is the other's name ;
And therefore bind them , gentle Publius ;
Caius and Valentine , lay hands on them ;
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour ,
And now I find it : therefore bind them sure ,
And stop their mouths , if they begin to cry .


Villains , forbear ! we are the empress' sons .

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 .


Come , come , Lavinia ; look , thy foes are bound .
Sirs , stop their mouths , let them not speak to me ,
But let them hear what fearful words I utter .
O villains , Chiron and Demetrius !
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud ,
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd .
You kill'd her husband , and for that vile fault 
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death ,
My hand cut off and made a merry jest :
Both her sweet hands , her tongue , and that more dear 
Than hands or tongue , her spotless chastity ,
Inhuman traitors , you constrain'd and forc'd .
What would you say if I should let you speak ?
Villains ! for shame you could not beg for grace .
Hark , wretches ! how I mean to martyr you .
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats ,
Whilst that Levinia 'tween her stumps doth hold 
The basin that receives your guilty blood .
You know your mother means to feast with me ,
And calls herself Revenge , and thinks me mad .
Hark ! villains , I will grind your bones to dust ,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste ;
And of the paste a coffin I will rear ,
And make two pasties of your shameful heads ;
And bid that strumpet , your unhallow'd dam ,
Like to the earth swallow her own increase .
This is the feast that I have bid her to ,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on ;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter ,
And worse than Procne I will be reveng'd .
And now prepare your throats . Lavinia , come .

Receive the blood : and when that they are dead ,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small ,
And with this hateful liquor temper it ;
And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd .
Come , come , be every one officious 
To make this banquet , which I wish may prove 
More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast .
So , now bring them in , for I will play the cook ,
And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes .


Uncle Marcus , since it is my father's mind 
That I repair to Rome , I am content .

And ours with thine , befall what fortune will .

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 proceedings :
And see the ambush of our friends be strong ;
I fear the emperor means no good to us .

Some devil whisper curses in mine ear ,
And prompt me , that my tongue may utter forth 
The venomous malice of my swelling heart !

Away , inhuman dog ! unhallow'd slave !
Sirs , help our uncle to convey him in .

The trumpets show the emperor is at hand .


What ! hath the firmament more suns than one ?

What boots it thee , to call thyself a sun ?

Rome's emperor , and nephew , break the parle ;
These quarrels must be quietly debated .
The feast is ready which the careful Titus 
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end ,
For peace , for love , for league , and good to Rome :
Please you , therefore , draw nigh , and take your places .

Marcus , we will .


Welcome , my gracious lord ; welcome , dread queen ;
Welcome , ye war-like Goths ; welcome , Lucius ;
And welcome , all . Although the cheer be poor ,
'Twill fill your stomachs ; please you eat of it .

Why art thou thus attir'd , Andronicus ?

Because I would be sure to have all well 
To entertain your highness , and your empress .

We are beholding to you , good Andronicus .

An if your highness knew my heart , you were .
My lord the emperor , resolve me this :
Was it well done of rash Virginius 
To slay his daughter with his own right hand ,
Because she was enforced , stain'd , and deflower'd ?

It was , Andronicus .

Your reason , mighty lord ?

Because the girl should not survive her shame ,
And by her presence still renew his sorrows .

A reason mighty , strong , and effectual ;
A pattern , precedent , and lively warrant ,
For me most wretched , to perform the like .
Die , die . Lavinia , and thy shame with thee ;
And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die !


What hast thou done , unnatural and unkind ?

Kill'd her , for whom my tears have made me blind .
I am as woeful as Virginius was ,
And have a thousand times more cause than he 
To do this outrage : and it is now done .

What ! was she ravish'd ? tell who did the deed .

Will 't please you eat ? will 't please your highness feed ?

Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus ?

Not I ; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius :
They ravish'd her , and cut away her tongue :
And they , 'twas they , that did her all this wrong .

Go fetch them hither to us presently .

Why , there they are both , baked in that pie ;
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed ,
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred .
'Tis true , 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point .


Die , frantic wretch , for this accursed deed !


Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ?
There's meed for meed , death for a deadly deed !

You sad-fac'd men , people and sons of Rome ,
By uproar sever'd , like a flight of fowl 
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts ,
O ! let me teach you how to knit again 
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf ,
These broken limbs again into one body ,
Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself ,
And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to ,
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway ,
Do shameful execution on herself .
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age ,
Grave witnesses of true experience ,
Cannot induce you to attend my words ,


Speak , Rome's dear friend , as erst our ancestor ,
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse 
To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear 
The story of that baleful burning night 
When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's Troy ;
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears ,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in 
That gives our Troy , our Rome , the civil wound .
My heart is not compact of flint nor steel ,
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief ,
But floods of tears will drown my oratory ,
And break my very utterance , even in the time 
When it should move you to attend me most ,
Lending your kind commiseration .
Here is a captain , let him tell the tale ;
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak .

Then , noble auditory , be it known to you ,
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius 
Were they that murdered our emperor's brother ;
And they it was that ravished our sister .
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded ,
Our father's tears despis'd , and basely cozen'd 
Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out ,
And sent her enemies unto the grave :
Lastly , myself unkindly banished ,
The gates shut on me , and turn'd weeping out ,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies ;
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears ,
And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend :
And I am the turn'd forth , be it known to you ,
That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood ,
And from her bosom took the enemy's point ,
Sheathing the steel in my 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 ! methinks I do digress too much ,
Citing my worthless praise : O ! pardon me ;
For when no friends are by , men praise themselves .

Now is my turn to speak . Behold this child ;
Of this was Tamora delivered ,
The issue of an irreligious Moor ,
Chief architect and plotter of these woes .
The villain is alive in Titus' house ,
Damn'd as he is , to witness this is true .
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge 
These wrongs , unspeakable , past patience ,
Or more than any living man could bear .
Now you have heard the truth , what say you Romans ?
Have we done aught amiss , show us wherein ,
And , from the place where you behold us now ,
The poor remainder of Andronici 
Will , hand in hand , all headlong cast us down ,
And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains ,
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 .

Come , come , thou reverend man of Rome ,
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand ,
Lucius , our emperor ; for well I know 
The common voice do cry it shall be so .

Lucius , all hail ! Rome's royal emperor !

Go , go into old Titus' sorrowful house ,
And hither , hale that misbelieving Moor ,
To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death ,
As punishment for his most wicked life .

Lucius , all hail ! Rome's gracious governor !

Thanks , gentle Romans : may I govern so ,
To heal Rome's harms , and wipe away her woe !
But , gentle people , give me aim awhile ,
For nature puts me to a heavy task .
Stand all aloof ; but , uncle , draw you near ,
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk .
O ! take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips ,

These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face ,
The last true duties of thy noble son !

Tear for tear , and loving kiss for kiss ,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips :
O ! were the sum of these that I should pay 
Countless and infinite , yet would I pay them .

Come hither , boy ; come , come , and learn of us 
To melt in showers : thy grandsire lov'd thee well :
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee ,
Sung thee asleep , his loving breast thy pillow ;
Many a matter hath he told to thee ,
Meet and agreeing with thine infancy ;
In that respect , then , like a loving child ,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring ,
Because kind nature doth require it so :
Friends should associate friends in grief and woe .
Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave ;
Do him that kindness , and take leave of him .

O grandsire , 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 choke me if I ope my mouth .


You sad Andronici , have done with woes :
Give sentence on this execrable wretch ,
That hath been breeder of these dire events .

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 fasten'd in the earth .

O ! 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 .

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 household's monument .
As for that heinous tiger , Tamora ,
No funeral rite , nor man in mournful weeds ,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial ;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey .
Her life was beast-like , and devoid of pity ;
And , being so , shall have like want of pity .
See justice done on Aaron , that damn'd Moor ,
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning :
Then , afterwards , to order well the state ,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate .