From the 1700s to the Second World War Titus Andronicus was considered so shocking and such a subversion of the noble Roman ideal of decorum that it was hardly ever staged and was frequently said to be by someone other than Shakespeare. High-minded critics and scholars could not imagine the National Poet soiling himself with a barbaric feast of rape, dismemberment, and cannibalism. Yet Titus was one of the most popular plays of the Elizabethan age.
A glorious mishmash of history and invention, it creates an imaginary Rome that is simultaneously democratic and imperial. The play is not so much an historical work as a meditation on history. We might call it a “meta-history.” The political structures of the early Roman republic and the decadence of the late Roman Empire are deliberately overlaid upon each other. They are also mingled with the preoccupations of late Elizabethan England: the opening political dispute between Saturninus and Bassianus is over the question of the succession to the recently deceased emperor, a matter of considerable concern at the time Shakespeare was writing, when the old Virgin Queen was nearing the end of her life and there were several rival candidates to succeed her.
We are asked to imagine that this could be any time in the Roman era and no time. The spiral of revenge begins with an act of human sacrifice, the slaying of Tamora’s son Alarbus to appease the spirits of those of Titus’ sons who have been killed in the wars against the Goths. Historically, human sacrifice was never practiced in ancient Rome, but all cultures have their foundational myths of sacrifice. For Shakespeare and his audience, Rome was evocative of the Roman Catholic Church as well as the pagan empire of the past. So it is that the action is peppered with allusions to the ultimate sacrifice, the crucifixion of God’s own Son, and to the doctrinal differences consequent upon it. The word martyred, which was deeply significant to both Catholics and Protestants, is applied to Lavinia, and when she assists her father in the butchery of Chiron and Demetrius, she is asked to “receive the blood,” a phrase that darkly parodies the language of the Eucharist, in which we are redeemed by the blood of Christ—though whether the wine of the feast was real or symbolic blood was a matter for fierce debate.
The play sealed Shakespeare’s reputation as the authentic successor to the original angry young man of English drama, Christopher Marlowe. Aaron’s delight in his own villainy is shamelessly pillaged from Barabas’ and Ithamore’s boasting in the same vein in Marlowe’s Jew of Malta. Shakespeare was a contrarian. He took the commonplaces of his age and stood them on their heads—or perhaps sliced off their heads and baked them in a pastry. Rome was synonymous with civilization and the Goths with barbarism: so Shakespeare considers the possibility that Rome was just as barbarous as the Gothic forest. Roman Stoicism proposed that it was healthy to keep your emotions under tight restraint: so Shakespeare voices the need to give your feelings vent (“Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopped, / Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is”). The law prescribed that punishment should be left to the justice system: so Shakespeare dramatized the primal—though ultimately self-destructive—attraction of acting out revenge for oneself. A daughter has been raped and mutilated. The law is not there to help; even the poor Clown goes from quest for imperial justice to arbitrary execution. Titus accordingly raises the stakes and thinks of a revenge so hideous that it outdoes the original crime. This is but an extreme version of an instinct that is still with us: the police do nothing about the burglaries, so out comes the homeowner’s shotgun.
Structurally, the violence in Titus is always artistically purposeful, never gratuitous. There is a harsh but elegant symmetry to the action. Alarbus’ limbs are lopped, and so then are Lavinia’s: since Tamora, Queen of the Goths, loses her son, so Titus, General of the Romans, must lose his daughter. Ever since the time of ancient Greek tragedy, western culture has been haunted by the figure of the revenger. He or she stands on a whole series of borderlines: between civilization and barbarity, between an individual’s accountability to his or her own conscience and the community’s need for the rule of law, between the conflicting demands of justice and mercy. Do we have a right—a duty even—to exact revenge against those who have destroyed our loved ones? Or should we leave vengeance to the law or the gods? And if we do take action into our own hands, are we not reducing ourselves to the same moral level as the original perpetrator of murderous deeds? In the Elizabethan public theater, Thomas Kyd began to explore these questions in The Spanish Tragedy. Shakespeare developed them further in Titus Andronicus and then refined them to their highest level in Hamlet.
Revenge drama can deal as powerfully with emotional trauma as with ethical dilemma. Hieronimo in The Spanish Tragedy is driven mad by the death of his son. In the end his grief becomes so intense that it is literally inexpressible, causing him to bite out his own tongue. Shakespeare nods towards Hieronomo when Titus says “Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows / Pass the remainder of our hateful days?”
Is it possible to relieve emotional anguish through language? The attempt to do so is the traditional cathartic function of poetic tragedy. In Titus, Marcus—the play’s chief “spectator” figure—confronts the appalling mutilation of his niece, Lavinia, and finds himself searching for a language of mourning that will “ease [her] misery.” Her father, Titus, later tries to share her pain by holding her closely to him and comparing her to the weeping wind, himself to first the sea, and then the earth. But even this elemental language is insufficient. Lavinia’s woes are literally unspeakable. Throughout Titus, Shakespeare pushes at the boundaries between true expression and false, sanity and madness, speech and silence.
In particular, he is fascinated by the ways in which the human body itself can be made to speak. The actor on the Elizabethan stage communicated with his audience in two ways: through words and through gestures. Shakespeare began his career as an actor, learning the elaborate rhetorical speeches and highly formalized physical gestures that characterized the relatively crude dramatic repertory of the time. The top box-office star of this period, the early 1590s, was Edward Alleyn. The first Hieronimo, Alleyn was renowned for his grand style. Shakespeare, though, quickly saw the dangers of going “over the top” on stage. Working closely with his leading actor, Richard Burbage, he sought to develop a much subtler style, in which poetic language became a medium less for showy display and more for a flexible, inquiring exploration of the inner life. Titus has its share of windy rhetorical grandiloquence—that was necessary in order to bring in the crowds. But its unique brilliance occurs in those passages where Shakespeare deliberately deprives himself of the dramatist’s usual resources of word and gesture. Kyd’s Hieronimo only bites himself into silence in the final scene before his death, whereas Shakespeare’s Lavinia has her tongue cut out before the halfway mark in the action. For the remainder of the time, she can speak only in dumb show. Nor can she express herself with gestures, for her hands have been cut off. She has become a visual icon of man’s inhumanity to woman. So it is that her father, Titus, has to “wrest an alphabet” from the “martyred signs” of her mutilated body.
Titus’ own body has been battered by years of war, and yet he survives. Shakespeare reminds us that real human beings are not supermen or action heroes, but vulnerable creatures. Titus is scarred, muddy, physically made to stoop low, yet he remains high and indomitable in spirit, despite all the wrongs he has to endure in a cruel world devoid of divine justice:
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops’ size,
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear.
Aaron, meanwhile, is the first great Shakespearean villain, the forerunner of Richard III, Iago in Othello, and Edmund in King Lear. But he is also the first great black role in English drama. Motivated throughout by his status as an outsider, at first he seems to be the devil incarnate. But toward the end, there is an astonishing turnaround. “Is black so base a hue?” he asks the nurse who has handed him his first-born son with an insult. Black pride and paternal affection undo the ancient racist equation of darkness with evil.
Titus Andronicus plays like the work of a very clever, very naughty schoolboy. In the classroom of the Stratford-upon-Avon grammar school, young Will would have learned that the purpose of studying the classics was to be inspired by their heroic actions and moral virtues. This was the message of books such as Plutarch’s Lives of the Most Noble Grecians and Romans, out of which he would later create his Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra. But what he also found in classical literature were glorious tales of blood and gore, not to mention every sex crime imaginable. The brilliance of Titus is that it is suffused with the language of the Elizabethan classroom—words like “tutor,” “instruct,” “lesson”—yet it uses classical literature as “pattern and precedent” not for virtue but for high crime and misdemeanor. The story of the rape of Philomel by Tereus and her sister Progne’s juicy act of revenge, as told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, is explicitly invoked first by Demetrius and Chiron as the pattern for what they do to Lavinia and then by Titus as the precedent for what he will do to them. And it is by way of reference to the actual book of Ovid that the silenced Lavinia contrives to reveal what has happened.
Again, the lesson of classical literature was that tragedy should be kept apart from comedy, high art from low. Shakespeare was perfectly capable of following this precept when he wanted: Julius Caesar probably has fewer laughs than any other play in the canon. But in Titus, he wantonly flouts the classical rules. He recognizes that there is actually a very narrow borderline between tragedy and farce. Four hundred years before the enfants terribles of modern Hollywood, he saw that audiences love the shock of the rollercoaster ride from violence to humor. Jokes are always at someone’s expense and it is one of the obligations of the serious artist to push at the barrier of good taste so that we can discover when the expense is so great that we feel sick.
If the play has a fault, it is that the formality of both language and action in the opening scenes create a sense of stiffness that suggests classicism at its most tedious. This is probably not Shakespeare’s fault: modern scholarship has persuasively demonstrated by means of close stylistic analysis that Titus Andronicus was begun by another dramatist, George Peele, who had a high-level classical education and a taste for large-scale symmetrical stage encounters spoken in high-flown rhetoric. It is almost certainly Peele who deserves credit for the play’s ingenious syncretism, its sweep across the diversity of Roman history. We do not know whether the play was written as a purposeful collaboration or whether Shakespeare came in to do a rewrite or to complete an unfinished work. Nor do we know at precisely what point the writing became his alone—though there is no doubt that he is the author of all the most dramatic scenes, from the rape through the hand-chopping to the fly-killing banquet (which was his later addition, not included in the earliest printed text) to the feast at the climax.
Perhaps the most profoundly Shakespearean moment—a dramatic move far beyond the capacity of Peele—comes when Titus is confronted with the dismembered ruins of his family and his brother Marcus tells him that it is time to “storm,” to rend his hair and explode into a great tirade of words, to rant in the style of a ham actor. But he does not cry or curse. He laughs. In times of extremity, you have to throw away the rulebook. In real life, tragedy and comedy don’t live in different boxes. William Wordsworth once wrote of thoughts that lie too deep for tears. Only William Shakespeare could have dramatized the astonishing but profoundly human idea that the place you get to when you go beyond tears is not silence but laughter.
AUTHORSHIP: Mostly by Shakespeare, but the first act and possibly the beginning of the second and fourth acts have the stylistic marks of George Peele. It is not known whether this was an active collaboration or whether Shakespeare took over an older play by Peele and revised the later acts much more thoroughly than the first one. Francis Meres in 1598 and the 1623 Folio editors had no hesitation in attributing the play to Shakespeare.
PLOT: The brothers Saturninus and Bassianus are in contention for the Roman emperorship. Titus Andronicus, Rome’s most honored general, returns from wars against the Goths with their queen, Tamora, her sons, and her lover, Aaron the Moor, as captives. Her eldest son is sacrificed by Titus; she vows revenge. Titus is nominated emperor by his brother Marcus, one of Rome’s tribunes. This Titus declines, instead nominating Saturninus. To seal the bond of friendship, the new emperor offers to marry Titus’ daughter Lavinia. She, however, is already pledged to Bassianus. Saturninus, by now infatuated with Tamora, makes her empress. Manipulated by Aaron, Tamora’s sons, Chiron and Demetrius, avenge their mother by raping and mutilating Lavinia, and killing Bassianus. Aaron falsely implicates two of Titus’ sons in this murder. In his turn Titus vows revenge and sends his surviving son Lucius to the Goths to raise an army. Titus achieves his revenge by killing Tamora’s sons and serving them up to her at a banquet, and then killing her. He himself is killed by Saturninus and his death avenged by Lucius, who is made emperor.
MAJOR PARTS: (with percentage of lines/number of speeches/scenes on stage) Titus Andronicus (28%/117/9), Aaron the Moor (14%/57/6), Marcus Andronicus (12%/63/9), Tamora (10%/49/5), Saturninus (8%/49/5), Lucius (7%/51/4), Demetrius (4%/39/7), Bassianus (3%/14/3), Lavinia (2%/15/3), Chiron (2%/30/6), and Young Lucius (2%/11/4).
LINGUISTIC MEDIUM: 98% verse, 2% prose.
DATE: 1591/92, perhaps revised 1594? Performed at the Rose in January 1594 and marked by the theater manager as “ne,” possibly meaning “new.” Title page of first published edition, also 1594, seems to imply performance by three successive companies (see “Text,” below), suggesting staging before theaters were closed due to the plague for the second half of 1592 and nearly all of 1593. Perhaps the first two companies performed an old version by Peele and the 1594 performance and text were newly revised by Shakespeare
SOURCES: The story is not historical. An anonymous chapbook narrative, once thought to be the source, is almost certain to be a derivative text rather than a source, so it must be assumed either that there is a lost source or that the plot is freely invented, while drawing on a range of Roman materials, both historical and poetic—most notably the tragedies of Seneca and Ovid’s story of Progne’s revenge on the tyrant Tereus for the rape of her sister Philomel (Metamorphoses book 6, used as a prop and plot device in Act 4 Scene 1). There is also a strong influence from other tragedies of the period, notably Thomas Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy (c.1589, especially for the revenger as a self-consciously theatrical performer) and Christopher Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta (c.1591, for Aaron’s delight in his own villainy).
TEXT: Published in Quarto as The Most Lamentable Romaine Tragedie of Titus Andronicus: As it was Plaide by the Right Honourable the Earle of Darbie, Earle of Pembrooke, and Earle of Sussex their Seruants (1594, reprinted 1600 and 1611). A good-quality text, perhaps printed from Shakespeare’s manuscript, though with one or two signs of revision in the process of composition (some false starts and the possibility that the killing of both Alarbus and Mutius in the first act were late additions—could these be Shakespearean revisions to Peele’s original?). The Second Quarto, which included some good corrections, was printed from a damaged copy of the First Quarto, resulting in some changes to the wording of the final scene and the addition of four new lines at the very end of the play. The Folio text was printed from a copy of the Third Quarto, incorporating both corrections and errors from the Second and Third Quartos; it introduced many new errors of its own, because it was mostly typeset by “Compositor E,” the one genuinely incompetent agent in the creation of the First Folio. The principal value of the Folio text is that it introduces stage directions, presumably derived from the theatrical promptbook, and adds one complete new scene (Act 3 Scene 2, the fly-killing banquet). Most modern editions are based on the First Quarto, but with the banquet inserted from Folio. In accordance with our practice of beginning from Folio and avoiding the conflation of discrete texts, we depart from this tradition and edit the Folio text, though with frequent emendation in places where the text is erroneous, principally as a result of the shoddy work of “Compositor E.” Since they appear in the Folio, the Second Quarto’s extra four lines at the end are included, but they are marked with curly brackets to indicate that they are an addition that seems to derive from the printing shop rather than the playhouse.
Romans
SATURNINUS the deceased Emperor’s eldest son, who succeeds as Emperor
BASSIANUS, his brother
TITUS Andronicus, a noble general
LAVINIA his daughter
MARCUS, his brother, a Tribune of the people
BOY/YOUNG LUCIUS, son of Lucius
PUBLIUS, son of Marcus Andronicus
EMILLIUS
A CAPTAIN
A MESSENGER
A NURSE
A CLOWN
A LORD
Senators, Tribunes, Soldiers and Attendants Goths
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths, later Empress of Rome, married to Saturninus
AARON, a Moor, Tamora’s lover
Soldiers
Defend the justice of my cause with arms.
And countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive4 title with your swords.
5 I was the first-born son that5 was the last
That wore the imperial diadem6 of Rome:
Then let my father’s honours7 live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
10 If ever Bassianus, Caesar’s son,
Were gracious11 in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep12 then this passage to the Capitol,
And suffer not13 dishonour to approach
Th’imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,14
15 To justice, continence15 and nobility:
But let desert16 in pure election shine,
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Ambitiously for rule and empery,19
20 Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party,21 have by common voice
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamèd23 Pius
For many good and great deserts24 to Rome:
25 A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls.
He by the senate is accited27 home
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That29 with his sons, a terror to our foes,
30 Hath yoked30 a nation strong, trained up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome and chastisèd with arms
Our enemies’ pride: five times he hath returned
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
35 In coffins from the field,
And now at last, laden with horror’s spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renownèd Titus, flourishing38 in arms.
Let us entreat, by honour39 of his name,
40 Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate’s right,
Whom you pretend42 to honour and adore,
That you withdraw you and abate your strength,
Dismiss your followers and, as suitors44 should,
Plead your deserts45 in peace and humbleness.
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
50 Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,51
Gracious Lavinia, Rome’s rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people’s favour
55 Commit my cause in balance to be weighed.
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.
60 Rome, be as just and gracious unto me
As I am confident and kind61 to thee.
Open the gates and let me in.
65 Patron65 of virtue, Rome’s best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is returned
From whence he circumscribèd68 with his sword
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Lo, as the bark71 that hath discharged his freight
Returns with precious lading72 to the bay
From whence at first she weighed her anchorage,73
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
75 To resalute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou77 great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to78 the rites that we intend.
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
80 Half of the number that King Priam80 had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive, let Rome reward with love:
These that I bring unto their latest83 home,
With84 burial amongst their ancestors.
85 Here Goths have given me leave85 to sheathe my sword.
Titus, unkind86 and careless of thine own,
Why suffer’st thou thy sons unburied yet
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?88
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
90 There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,90
And sleep in peace, slain in your country’s wars.
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell93 of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
95 That thou wilt never render to me more!95
That we may hew97 his limbs, and on a pile
Ad manus fratrum98 sacrifice his flesh
Before this earthly prison of their bones,
100 That so100 the shadows be not unappeased,
Nor we disturbed with prodigies101 on earth.
The eldest son of this distressèd queen.
105 Victorious Titus, rue105 the tears I shed,
A mother’s tears in passion106 for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my sons to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not109 that we are brought to Rome
110 To beautify thy triumphs110 and return,
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke?
But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets
For valiant doings in their country’s cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
115 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.
120 Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
These are the brethren whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
125 To this your son is marked, and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let’s hew his limbs till they be clean129 consumed.
Alarbus goes to rest and we survive
To tremble under Titus’ threat’ning looks.
135 Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal135
The self-same gods that armed the Queen136 of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent
May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths —
140 When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen —
To quit141 the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Our Roman rites: Alarbus’ limbs are lopped,
And entrails144 feed the sacrificing fire,
145 Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren
And with loud ’larums147 welcome them to Rome.
Make this his latest149 farewell to their souls.
150 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 envy153 swells,
Here grow no damnèd grudges, here are no storms,
155 No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons.
My noble lord and father, live in fame!158
Lo, at this tomb my tributary159 tears
160 I render for my brethren’s obsequies,160
And at thy feet I kneel with tears of joy Kneels
Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome.
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortune Rome’s best citizens applaud.
The cordial166 of mine age to glad my heart.
Lavinia, live, outlive thy father’s days
And168 fame’s eternal date, for virtue’s praise. Lavinia rises
170 Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
You that survive and you that sleep in fame.
Fair lords, your174 fortunes are alike in all,
175 That in your country’s service drew your swords:
But safer triumph176 is this funeral pomp
That hath aspired177 to Solon’s happiness
And triumphs over chance in honour’s bed.178
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
180 Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribune181 and their trust,
This palliament182 of white and spotless hue,
And name thee in election for the empire
With these our late-deceasèd emperor’s sons:
185 Be candidatus185 then and put it on, Offers a robe
And help to set a head on headless Rome.
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness.
What, should I don this robe and trouble you?
190 Be chosen with proclamations today,
Tomorrow yield up rule, resign my life
And set abroad192 new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country’s strength successfully,
195 And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms
In right and service197 of their noble country:
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world.
200 Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
Patricians, draw your swords and sheathe them not
205 Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor.
Andronicus, would206 thou wert shipped to hell,
Rather than rob me of the people’s hearts.
That noble-minded Titus means to thee.
The people’s hearts, and wean211 them from themselves.
But honour thee, and will do till I die:
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
215 I will most thankful be, and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.216
I ask your voices218 and your suffrages,
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
And gratulate221 his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.222
That you create224 our emperor’s eldest son,
225 Lord Saturnine, whose virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome as Titan’s226 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!’
Patricians and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor,
And say, ‘Long live our Emperor Saturnine!’
235 To us in our election this day,
I give thee thanks in236 part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:237
And, for an onset,238 Titus, to advance
Thy name and honourable family,
240 Lavinia will I make my emperess,
Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon242 her espouse:
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion243 please thee?
245 I hold me245 highly honoured 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,
250 Presents well worthy Rome’s imperial lord:
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Titus’ sword chariot and prisoners are given to Saturninus
Mine honour’s ensigns252 humbled at thy feet.
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts,
255 Rome shall record, and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable256 deserts,
Romans forget your fealty257 to me.
To him that for259 your honour and your state,
260 Will use260 you nobly and your followers.
That I would choose, were I to choose anew.—
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance: To Tamora
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,264
265 Thou com’st not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Rest267 on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts268 you
Can make you greater than the queen of Goths.—
270 Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?
Warrants272 these words in princely courtesy.
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
275 Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. Sound music; prisoners released
To do myself this reason279 and this right.
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
Treason, my lord: Lavinia is surprised!284
Bear his betrothed from all the world away.
And with my sword I’ll keep this door safe.
295 In wrongful quarrel295 you have slain your son.
My sons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.
300 That is another’s lawful promised love.
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock.
I’ll trust by leisure303 him that mocks me once,
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
305 Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was none306 in Rome to make a stale
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That said’st I begged the empire at thy hands.
To him that flourished312 for her with his sword.
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy,
One fit to bandy314 with thy lawless sons,
315 To ruffle315 in the commonwealth of Rome.
That like the stately Phoebe318 ’mongst her nymphs
Dost overshine319 the gallant’st dames of Rome,
320 If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee emperess of Rome,
Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,
325 Sith priest and holy water are so near
And tapers326 burn so bright and everything
In readiness for Hymenaeus327 stand,
I will not resalute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
330 I lead espoused my bride along with me.
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
She will a handmaid be to his desires,
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
Your noble emperor and his lovely bride,
Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,
Whose338 wisdom hath her fortune conquerèd:
There shall we consummate our spousal rites.
Titus, when wert thou wont341 to walk alone,
Dishonoured thus, and challengèd342 of wrongs?
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
Nor thou, nor these, confed’rates in the deed
That hath dishonoured all our family:
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons.
350 Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified:353
Here none but soldiers and Rome’s servitors354
355 Repose in fame — none basely slain in brawls.
Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him,
He must be buried with his bretheren.359
365 To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded.
My foes I do repute368 you every one,
So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
His noble nephew here in virtue’s nest,
That died in honour and Lavinia’s cause.
380 Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
The381 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,
385 Be barred his entrance here.
The dismall’st387 day is this that e’er I saw:
To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome!
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
Till we with trophies391 do adorn thy tomb.
He lives in fame that died in virtue’s cause.
395 How comes it that the subtle395 Queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?
Whether by device398 or no — the heavens can tell.
Is she not then beholding399 to the man
400 That brought her for this high good turn so far?
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
405 Nor wish no less, and so I take my leave.
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.407
My true-betrothèd love and now my wife?
410 But let the laws of Rome determine all:
Meanwhile I am possessed of that411 is mine.
But if we live we’ll be as sharp413 with you.
415 Answer415 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 opinion419 and in honour wronged,
420 That in the rescue of Lavinia
With his own hand did slay his youngest son
In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath
To be controlled423 in that he frankly gave:
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine,
425 That hath expressed himself in all his deeds
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
’Tis thou and those428 that have dishonoured me.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge Kneels
430 How I have loved and honoured Saturnine!
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak indifferently433 for all,
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
And basely put it up436 without revenge?
I should be author to dishonour438 you.
But on mine honour dare I undertake439
440 For good Lord Titus’ innocence in all,
Whose fury441 not dissembled speaks his griefs:
Then at my suit look graciously on him.
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,443
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.—
445 My lord, be ruled by me, be won at last, Aside to Saturninus
Dissemble446 all your griefs and discontents.
You are but newly planted in your throne:
Lest then the people, and patricians too,
Upon a just survey449 take Titus’ part,
450 And so supplant you for ingratitude,
Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,
Yield at entreats452 — and then let me alone:
I’ll find a day to massacre them all,
And raze454 their faction and their family,
455 The cruel father and his traitorous sons
To whom I suèd456 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 — Aloud
460 Take up460 this good old man, and cheer the heart
That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
A Roman now adopted happily,466
And must advise the emperor for his good.
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus:
And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
470 That I have reconciled your friends and you.—
For471 you, Prince Bassianus, I have passed
My word and promise to the emperor,
That you will be more mild and tractable.—
And fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia:
475 By my advice, all humbled on your knees,
You shall ask pardon of his majesty. Titus’ sons kneel
That what we did was mildly as we might,
Tend’ring479 our sister’s honour and our own.
The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace,
I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back.
And at my lovely Tamora’s entreats,
I do remit these young men’s heinous faults.—
Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,488
I found a friend,489 and sure as death I swore
490 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,493 Tamora.
495 To hunt the panther and the hart495 with me,
With horn and hound we’ll give your grace bonjour.496
Safe out of fortune’s shot, and sits aloft,
Secure of3 thunder’s crack or lightning flash,
Advanced above pale envy’s threat’ning reach.
5 As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt6 the ocean with his beams,
Gallops7 the zodiac in his glistering coach
And overlooks8 the highest-peering hills,
So Tamora.
10 Upon her wit10 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 pitch14 whom thou in triumph long
15 Hast prisoner held, fettered in amorous chains
And faster bound to Aaron’s charming16 eyes
Than is Prometheus17 tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds18 and idle thoughts:
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold
20 To wait upon this new-made emperess.
To wait, said I? — To wanton21 with this queen,
This goddess, this Semiramis,22 this nymph,
This siren23 that will charm Rome’s Saturnine
And see his shipwreck and his commonweal’s.
25 Hallo! What storm is this?
And manners to intrude where I am graced27
And may, for aught28 thou know’st, affected be
30 And so in this, to bear me down30 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,34 and to deserve my mistress’ grace,
35 And that my sword upon thee shall approve,35
And plead my passions for Lavinia’s love.
Gave you a dancing-rapier39 by your side,
40 Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends?40
Go to:41 have your lath glued within your sheath
Till you know better how to handle it.
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare
So near47 the emperor’s palace dare you draw
And maintain such a quarrel openly?
Full well I wot49 the ground of all this grudge:
50 I would not for a million of gold
The cause were known to them it most concerns,
Nor would your noble mother for much more
Be so dishonoured in the court of Rome.
For shame, put up.54
My rapier in his bosom and withal
Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.
60 Foul-spoken coward, that thund’rest with thy tongue,
And with thy weapon nothing dar’st perform!
Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,
This petty brabble64 will undo us all.
65 Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous
It is to jet66 upon a prince’s right?
What, is Lavinia then become so loose,67
Or Bassianus so degenerate,
That for her love such quarrels may be broached
70 Without controlment,70 justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware! And should the empress know
This discord’s ground,72 the music would not please.
I love Lavinia more than all the world.
Lavinia is thine elder brother’s hope.
How furious and impatient they be,
And cannot brook79 competitors in love?
80 I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
By this device.81
T’achieve her whom I do love.
She is a woman, therefore may be wooed:
She is a woman, therefore may be won:
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
What, man, more water glideth by the mill
90 Than wots the miller of, and easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive,91 we know:
Though Bassianus be the emperor’s brother,
Better than he have worn Vulcan’s badge.93
With words, fair looks and liberality?
What, hast not thou full often struck97 a doe
And borne her cleanly by the keeper’s nose?
100 Would serve your turns.100
Then should not we be tired with this ado.104
105 Why, hark ye, hark ye, and are you such fools
To square for106 this? Would it offend you then
That both should speed?
’Tis policy111 and stratagem must do
That you affect,112 and so must you resolve
That what you cannot as113 you would achieve,
You must perforce accomplish as you may.
115 Take this of me: Lucrece115 was not more chaste
Than this Lavinia, Bassianus’ love.
A speedier course than ling’ring languishment117
Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn119 hunting is in hand:
120 There will the lovely Roman ladies troop:120
The forest walks are wide and spacious,
And many unfrequented plots122 there are
Fitted by kind123 for rape and villainy.
Single124 you thither then this dainty doe,
125 And strike her home125 by force, if not by words:
This way or not at all stand126 you in hope.
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred127 wit
To villainy and vengeance consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend,
130 And she shall file our engines130 with advice
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,131
But to your wishes’ height advance you both.
The emperor’s court is like the house of Fame,133
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears.
135 The woods are ruthless, dreadful,135 deaf and dull:
There speak and strike,136 brave boys, and take your turns:
There serve your lusts, shadowed from heaven’s eye,
And revel in Lavinia’s treasury.138
To cool this heat, a charm to calm their fits,
Per Stygia, per manes vehor.142
The fields are fragrant and the woods are green:
Uncouple3 here, and let us make a bay
And wake the emperor and his lovely bride,
5 And rouse the prince, and ring a hunter’s peal,5
That all the court may echo with the noise.
Sons, let it be your charge,7 as it is ours,
To attend the emperor’s person carefully:
I have been troubled in my sleep this night,
10 But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.
Many good morrows to your majesty:
Madam, to you as many and as good.
I promised your grace a hunter’s peal.
15 Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
I have been broad awake two hours and more.
20 And to our sport.— Madam, now shall ye see To Tamora
Our Roman hunting.
Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase23
And climb the highest promontory24 top.
Makes way and runs like swallows o’er the plain.
But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.
To bury so much gold under a tree
And never after to inherit3 it.
Let him that thinks of me so abjectly
5 Know that this gold must coin5 a stratagem
Which, cunningly effected, will beget6
A very excellent piece of villainy:
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest Hides the gold
That have their alms9 out of the empress’ chest.
When everything doth make a gleeful boast?11
The birds chant melody on every bush,
The snake lies rollèd in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind
15 And make a chequered 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-tuned horns
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
20 Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise,
And after conflict21 such as was supposed
The wand’ring22 prince and Dido once enjoyed,
When with a happy23 storm they were surprised
And curtained with a counsel-keeping24 cave,
25 We may, each wreathèd 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.
Saturn31 is dominator over mine:
What signifies my deadly-standing32 eye,
My silence and my cloudy melancholy,
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls
35 Even as an adder when she doth unroll
To do some fatal execution?
No, madam, these are no venereal37 signs:
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
40 Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul,
Which never hopes41 more heaven than rests in thee,
This is the day of doom for Bassianus:
His Philomel43 must lose her tongue today,
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity
45 And wash their hands in Bassianus’ blood.
See’st thou this letter? Take it up,46 I pray thee,
And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll.
Now question me no more: we are espied.
Here comes a parcel49 of our hopeful booty,
50 Which dreads not yet their lives’ destruction.
Be cross53 with him, and I’ll go fetch thy sons
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe’er they be.
Unfurnished56 of her well-beseeming troop?
Or is it Dian,57 habited like her,
Who hath abandonèd her holy groves
To see the general59 hunting in this forest?
Had I the power that some say Dian had,
Thy temples should be planted presently62
With horns, as was Actaeon’s,63 and the hounds
Should drive64 upon thy new-transformèd limbs,
65 Unmannerly intruder as thou art.
’Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning,67
And to be doubted68 that your Moor and you
Are singled forth69 to try experiments:
70 Jove70 shield your husband from his hounds today —
’Tis pity they should take him for a stag.
Doth make your honour of his body’s hue,
Spotted, detested and abominable.
75 Why are you sequestered75 from all your train,
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed,
And wandered hither to an obscure plot,
Accompanied with a barbarous Moor,
If foul desire had not conducted you?
Great reason81 that my noble lord be rated
For sauciness.— I pray you let us hence, To Bassianus
And let her joy83 her raven-coloured love:
This valley fits the purpose passing84 well.
Good king, to be so mightily abused.
90 Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
These two have ’ticed92 me hither to this place:
A barren detested vale you see it is.
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
95 O’ercome95 with moss and baleful mistletoe:
Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds
Unless the nightly owl or fatal97 raven.
And when they showed me this abhorrèd pit,
They told me here at dead time of the night,
100 A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads,101 as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confusèd cries
As any mortal body hearing it
Should straight104 fall mad, or else die suddenly.
105 No sooner had they told this hellish tale,
But straight they told me they would bind me here
Unto the body of a dismal107 yew
And leave me to this miserable death.
And then they called me foul adulteress,
110 Lascivious Goth,110 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,
115 Or be ye not henceforth called my children.
For no name fits thy nature but thy own.
Your mother’s hand shall right your mother’s wrong.
First thrash123 the corn, then after burn the straw.
This minion124 stood upon her chastity,
125 Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,
And with that painted126 hope braves your mightiness.
And shall she carry this unto her grave?
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole
130 And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
Let not this wasp outlive,132 us both to sting.
Come, mistress, now perforce134 we will enjoy
135 That nice-preservèd honesty135 of yours.
140 To see her tears, but be your heart to them
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.
O, do not learn143 her wrath: she taught it thee.
The milk thou suck’st from her did turn to marble:
145 Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.145
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike:146—
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. To Chiron
150 Yet have I heard — O, could I find it150 now! —
The lion moved with pity did endure
To have his princely paws152 pared all away.
Some say that ravens foster forlorn153 children
The whilst their own birds154 famish in their nests:
155 O, be to me though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing156 so kind, but something pitiful!
That gave thee life when well he might have slain thee.
160 Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.
Even for his sake am I pitiless.
Remember, boys, I poured forth tears in vain
To save your brother from the sacrifice,
165 But fierce Andronicus would not relent.
Therefore away with her and use166 her as you will:
The worse to her, the better loved of me.
And with thine own hands kill me in this place,
170 For ’tis not life that I have begged so long:
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.
That womanhood174 denies my tongue to tell:
175 O, keep me from their worse-than-killing lust,
And tumble176 me into some loathsome pit
Where never man’s eye may behold my body.
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
180 No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
The blot and enemy to our general name,183
Confusion184 fall—
185 Bring thou her husband: To Demetrius
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
Ne’er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici189 be made away.
190 Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful191 sons this trull deflower.
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
Where I espied the panther fast asleep.
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. Falls into the pit
Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing199 briers
200 Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
As fresh as morning’s dew distilled on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
205 That ever eye with sight made heart lament!
That he thereby may have a likely guess
How these were they that made away his brother.
210 From this unhallowed210 and blood-stainèd hole?
A chilling sweat o’er-runs my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
215 Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise.219
220 O, tell me how it is, for ne’er till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
All on a heap,223 like to the slaughtered Iamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
A precious ring,227 that lightens all the hole,
Which like a taper in some monument228
Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthly229 cheeks
230 And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus231
When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.232
O brother, help me with thy fainting hand —
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath —
235 Out of this fell235 devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus’236 misty mouth.
Or, wanting238 strength to do thee so much good,
I may be plucked into the swallowing womb239
240 Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus’ grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Till thou art here aloft or I below.
245 Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.
And what he is that now is leapt into it.—
Say who art thou that lately didst descend Speaks into the pit
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.
He and his lady both are at the lodge
255 Upon the north side of this pleasant chase.
’Tis not an hour since I left him there.
But, out alas,258 here have we found him dead.
Poor Bassianus here lies murderèd.
265 The complot265 of this timeless tragedy,
And wonder greatly that man’s face can fold266
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
Sweet huntsman — Bassianus ’tis we mean —
270 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 tree272
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
Where we decreed274 to bury Bassianus.
275 Do this, and purchase275 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 should279 have murdered Bassianus here.
Have here bereft my brother of his life.—
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:
There let them bide until we have devised
285 Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
How easily murder is discoverèd.
I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed,
290 That this fell fault of my accursèd sons,
Accursèd if the faults be proved in them—
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
For by my father’s reverend tomb I vow
They shall be ready at your highness’ will
To answer their suspicion298 with their lives.
300 Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers:
Let them not speak a word: the guilt is plain,
For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,
That end upon them should be executed.
305 Fear not305 thy sons, they shall do well enough.
Who ’twas that cut thy tongue and ravished thee.
An if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe.
And so let’s leave her to her silent walks.
Cousin,12 a word: where is your husband? Lavinia turns back
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me;
If I do wake, some planet strike14 me down
15 That I may slumber in eternal sleep.
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopped and hewed and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows19 kings have sought to sleep in,
20 And might not gain so great a happiness
As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Lavinia opens her mouth
Like to a bubbling fountain stirred with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosèd lips,
25 Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But sure some Tereus26 hath deflowered thee
And, lest thou shouldst detect27 him, cut thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame,
And notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
30 As from a conduit30 with three issuing spouts,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan’s31 face
Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say ’tis so?
O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast,
35 That I might rail at35 him, to ease my mind.
Sorrow concealèd, like an oven stopped,36
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious39 sampler sewed her mind.
40 But, lovely niece, that mean40 is cut from thee:
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sewed than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
45 Tremble like aspen-leaves upon a lute
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touched them for his life.
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
50 He would have dropped his knife and fell asleep,
As Cerberus51 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:54
55 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!
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept,
For all my blood4 in Rome’s great quarrel shed,
5 For all the frosty nights that I have watched,5
And for these bitter tears which now you see
Filling the agèd wrinkles in my cheeks,
Be pitiful to my condemnèd sons,
Whose souls is not corrupted as ’tis thought.
10 For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour’s lofty bed.
For these, two tribunes, in the dust I write
My heart’s deep languor13 and my soul’s sad tears:
Let my tears stanch14 the earth’s dry appetite,
15 My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame15 and blush.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain
That shall distil17 from these two ancient ruins
Than youthful April shall with all his showers.
In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still:19
20 In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow
And keep eternal springtime on thy face,
So22 thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.
O reverend tribunes, O gentle, agèd men,
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom24 of death,
25 And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.26
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—
They would not mark34 me, or if they did mark,
Therefore I tell my sorrows bootless36 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 intercept39 my tale:
40 When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears and seem to weep with me,
And were they but attirèd42 in grave weeds,
Rome could afford43 no tribune like to these.
A stone is as soft wax, tribunes more hard than stones:
45 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? Rises
For which attempt the judges have pronounced
50 My everlasting doom of banishment.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey
55 But me and mine: how happy art thou, then,
From these devourers to be banishèd!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Or if not so, thy noble heart to break:
60 I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
Speak, Lavinia, what accursèd 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?
70 My grief was at the height before thou cam’st,
And now like Nilus71 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 nursed74 this woe, in feeding life:
75 In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have served me to effectless76 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,
80 For hands to do Rome service is but vain.
That blabbed83 them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage
85 Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
90 That hath received some unrecuring90 wound.
Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead,
For now I stand as one upon a rock
Environed94 with a wilderness of sea,
95 Who marks the waxing95 tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever96 when some envious surge
Will in his brinish97 bowels swallow him.
This way to death my wretched sons are gone:
Here stands my other son, a banished man,
100 And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn101
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
105 Now I behold thy lively105 body so?
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears,
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyred thee:
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.109—
110 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-dew112
Upon a gathered lily almost withered.
115 Perchance because she knows them innocent.
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.
120 Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips
Or make some signs how I may do thee ease:121
Shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius,
And thou and I sit round about some fountain,
Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks,
125 How they are stained like meadows yet not dry,
With miry126 slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,128
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
130 Or shall we cut away our hands like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues and in dumb shows131
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues
Plot some device134 of further miseries
135 To make us wondered at in time to come.
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
140 Thy napkin140 cannot drink a tear of mine,
For thou, poor man, hast drowned it with thine own.
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
145 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 sympathy148 of woe is this:
As far from help as Limbo149 is from bliss!
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
155 Will send thee hither both thy sons alive —
And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
Did ever raven sing so like a lark
That gives sweet tidings of the sun’s uprise?
160 With all my heart, I’ll send the emperor my hand.
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
That hath thrown down so many enemies
Shall not be sent. My hand will serve the turn:
165 My youth can better spare my blood than you,
And therefore mine shall save my brothers’ lives.
And reared aloft the bloody battle-axe,
Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle?169
170 O, none of both170 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.
175 For fear they die before their pardon come.
Are meet179 for plucking up, and therefore mine.
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
Now let me show a brother’s love to thee.
Lend me thy hand and I will give thee mine.
190 And never whilst I live deceive men so.
But I’ll deceive you in another sort,
And that you’ll say,192 ere half an hour pass.
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand:
195 Tell him it was a hand that warded195 him
From thousand dangers: bid him bury it:
More hath it merited: that197 let it have.
As for my sons, say I account of198 them
As jewels purchased at an easy price,
200 And yet dear200 too, because I bought mine own.
Look202 by and by to have thy sons with thee.—
Their heads I mean. O, how this villainy Aside
Doth fat204 me with the very thoughts of it!
205 Let fools do good and fair205 men call for grace.
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
And bow this feeble ruin208 to the earth. Kneels
If any power pities wretched tears,
210 To that I call!— What, wilt thou kneel with me? Lavinia kneels
Do then, dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers,
Or with our sighs we’ll breathe the welkin212 dim,
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Then be my passions218 bottomless with them.
Then into limits could I bind my woes:
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o’erflow?222
If the winds rage doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat’ning the welkin with his big-swoll’n face?
225 And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?225
I am the sea. Hark how her226 sighs do blow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
Then must my sea be movèd228 with her sighs,
Then must my earth with her continual tears
230 Become a deluge overflowed and drowned,
For why231 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 stomachs234 with their bitter tongues.
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: Sets down the heads and hand
Thy griefs their sports,239 thy resolution mocked,
240 That240 woe is me to think upon thy woes
More than remembrance of my father’s death.
And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
These miseries are more than may be borne.
245 To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal,245
But sorrow flouted246 at is double death.
And yet detested life not shrink248 thereat!
That ever death should let life bear his name,249
250 Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! Lavinia kisses the heads
As frozen water to a starvèd252 snake.
255 Thou dost not slumber. See thy two sons’ heads,
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here,
Thy other banished son with this dear257 sight
Struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother, I,
Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
260 Ah, now no more will I control260 thy griefs:
Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismal sight
The closing up of our most wretched eyes.
Now is a time to storm. Why art thou still?
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy
And would usurp upon my wat’ry eyes
270 And make them blind with tributary270 tears.
Then which way shall I find Revenge’s cave?
For these two heads do seem to speak to me
And threat273 me I shall never come to bliss
Till all these mischiefs274 be returned again
275 Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.
You heavy277 people, circle me about,
That I may turn me to each one of you
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. They make a vow
280 The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head,
And in this hand the other I will bear.
And Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things:
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight:
285 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.
290 The woefull’st man that ever lived in Rome.
Farewell, proud Rome, till Lucius come again.
He loves his pledges292 dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister,
O, would thou wert as thou tofore294 hast been!
295 But now nor295 Lucius nor Lavinia lives
But296 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 Tarquin299 and his queen.
300 Now will I to the Goths and raise a power,300
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.
Than will preserve just so much strength in us
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:4
5 Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want5 our hands
And cannot passionate6 our tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Is left to tyrannize8 upon my breast,
Who,9 when my heart, all mad with misery,
10 Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.—
Thou map12 of woe, that thus dost talk in signs, To Lavinia
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous13 beating,
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
15 Wound it with sighing,15 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,19 and soaking in
20 Drown the lamenting fool20 in sea-salt tears.
Such violent hands upon her tender22 life.
Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
25 What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands
To bid Aeneas27 tell the tale twice o’er
How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?
O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
30 Lest we remember still30 that we have none.
Fie, fie, how franticly31 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,34 and, gentle girl, eat this.
35 Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says:
I can interpret all her martyred signs —
She says she drinks no other drink but tears,
Brewed with her sorrow, meshed38 upon her cheeks.—
Speechless complainer,39 I will learn thy thought.
40 In thy dumb action40 will I be as perfect
As begging hermits in their holy prayers:
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Nor wink,43 nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I of these will wrest an alphabet
45 And by still45 practice learn to know thy meaning.
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Doth weep to see his grandsire’s heaviness.49
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?
55 Mine eyes are cloyed 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.
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz lamenting doings62 in the air!
Poor harmless fly,
That with his pretty buzzing melody
65 Came here to make us merry, and thou hast killed him.
Like to the empress’ Moor: therefore I killed him.
Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
70 For thou hast done a charitable deed.
Give me thy knife, I will insult on71 him,
Flattering72 myself as if it were the Moor
Come hither purposely to poison me.—
There’s for thyself, and that’s for Tamora. Takes the knife and strikes
75 Ah, sirrah!75
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.
80 He takes false shadows for true substances.
I’ll to thy closet,82 and go read with thee
Sad stories chancèd83 in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,
85 And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.85
Follows me everywhere, I know not why.
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
10 See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:
Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia12 never with more care
Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully’s14 Orator.
15 Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies15 thee thus?
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her,
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft
Extremity of griefs would make men mad,
20 And I20 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,24 fright my youth,
25 Which made me down to throw my books and fly,
Causeless perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,27
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
Some book there is that she desires to see.
Which is it, girl, of these?— Open them, boy.—
But thou art deeper33 read, and better skilled: To Lavinia
Come, and take choice of all my library,
35 And so beguile35 thy sorrow till the heavens
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.
What book?
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence38 thus?
40 Confederate in the fact.40 Ay, more there was,
Or else to heaven she heaves41 them for revenge.
My mother gave it me.
Perhaps she culled46 it from among the rest.
What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?
This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
50 And treats of Tereus’ treason and his rape —
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.51
Ravished and wronged as Philomela was,
55 Forced in the ruthless, vast55 and gloomy woods? Lavinia nods
See, see!
Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt —
O, had we never, never hunted there! —
Patterned by that59 the poet here describes,
60 By nature made for murders and for rapes.
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?62
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed.
65 Or65 slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece’ bed?
Apollo,68 Pallas, Jove or Mercury
Inspire me, that I may this treason find.
70 My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia.
This sandy plot is plain:71 guide, if thou canst,
This after me.72 I here have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.
Cursed be that heart that forced us to that shift.74
75 Write thou, good niece, and here display at last
What God will have discovered76 for revenge.
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
That we may know the traitors and the truth!
80 ‘Stuprum,80 Chiron, Demetrius.’
Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?
There is enough written upon this earth
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.88
My lord, kneel down with me: Lavinia, kneel:
90 And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector’s hope,90 They kneel
And swear with me — as, with the woeful fere91
And father of that chaste dishonoured dame,
Lord Junius Brutus swore for Lucrece’ rape —
That we will prosecute94 by good advice
95 Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.96 They rise
But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:
The dam99 will wake, and, if she wind you once
100 She’s with the lion100 deeply still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth101 on her back,
And when he sleeps will she do102 what she list.
You are a young103 huntsman, Marcus: let it alone,
And come. I will go get a leaf104 of brass
105 And with a gad105 of steel will write these words,
And lay it by. The angry northern wind
Will blow these sands, like Sibyl’s leaves107 abroad,
And where’s your lesson, then? Boy, what say you?
110 Their mother’s bedchamber should not be safe
For these bad bondmen111 to the yoke of Rome.
For his ungrateful country done the like.
Lucius, I’ll fit116 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?
Lavinia, come: Marcus, look to my house:
Lucius and I’ll go brave it123 at the court.
Ay, marry,124 will we, sir, and we’ll be waited on.
And not relent or not compassion126 him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy127
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
Than foemen’s marks upon his battered shield,
130 But yet so just that he will not revenge.
Revenge, the heavens, for old Andronicus!
He hath some message to deliver us.
5 I greet your honours from Andronicus.—
And pray the Roman gods confound6 you both. Aside
For villains marked with rape.— May it please you, To them
10 My grandsire, well advised,10 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
15 Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
You may be armèd and appointed16 well. Attendant presents the weapons
And so I leave you both— like bloody villains. Aside
Let’s see:
20 ‘Integer vitae,20 scelerisque purus, Reads
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.’
I read it in the grammar23 long ago.
25 Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Aside
Here’s no sound jest!26 The old man hath found their guilt,
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines
That28 wound beyond their feeling to the quick.
But were our witty29 empress well afoot
30 She would applaud Andronicus’ conceit:30
But let her rest in her unrest31 awhile.—
And now, young lords, was’t not a happy32 star To Chiron and Demetrius
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
Captives, to be advancèd to this height?
35 It did me good before the palace gate
To brave36 the tribune in his brother’s hearing.
Basely insinuate38 and send us gifts.
40 Did you not use his daughter very friendly?40
At42 such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
For our belovèd mother in her pains.
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?
55 Here Aaron is, and what55 with Aaron now?
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
Our empress’ shame and stately Rome’s disgrace!
She is delivered, lords, she is delivered.
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
70 Amongst the fair-faced breeders70 of our clime.
The empress sends it thee, thy71 stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger’s point.
Sweet blowse,74 you are a beauteous blossom, sure. To the child
80 Woe to her chance,80 and damned her loathèd choice,
Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend.
Do execution on my flesh and blood.
Nurse, give it me: my sword shall soon dispatch it.
90 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,92
He dies upon my scimitar’s sharp point
That touches this my first-born son and heir.
95 I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus95
With all his threat’ning band of Typhon’s96 brood,
Nor great Alcides,97 nor the god of war,
Shall seize this prey out of his father’s hands.
What, what, ye sanguine,99 shallow-hearted boys!
100 Ye white-limed100 walls, ye ale-house 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,
105 Although she lave105 them hourly in the flood.
Tell the empress from me, I am of age
To keep mine own, excuse it how she can.
110 The vigour and the picture of my youth:
This before all the world do I prefer,
This maugre112 all the world will I keep safe,
Or some of you shall smoke113 for it in Rome.
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
120 The close enacts120 and counsels of the heart.
Here’s a young lad framed121 of another leer:
Look how the black slave122 smiles upon the father,
As123 who should say ‘Old lad, I am thine own.’
He is your brother, lords, sensibly124 fed
125 Of that self-blood125 that first gave life to you,
And from that womb where you imprisoned were
He is enfranchisèd127 and come to light.
Nay, he is your brother by the surer128 side,
Although my seal be stampèd in his face.
And we will all subscribe to thy advice.
Save thou the child, so133 we may all be safe.
135 My son and I will have135 the wind of you.
Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety. They sit
I am a Iamb: but if you brave the Moor,
140 The chafèd140 boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.—
But say again, how many saw the child? To the Nurse
And none else but the delivered empress.
Two may keep counsel when the third’s away.
Go to the empress, tell her this I said.
Weke, weke!148 So cries a pig preparèd to th’spit. They all stand up
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours,
A long-tongued152 babbling gossip? No, lords, no:
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muly lives, my countryman:
155 His wife but yesternight was brought to bed:
His child is like to her,156 fair as you are.
Go pack157 with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumstance158 of all,
And how by this their child shall be advanced,
160 And be receivèd 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, ye see I have given her physic,164
165 And you must needs bestow165 her funeral:
The fields are near and you are gallant grooms.166
This done, see that you take no longer days,167
But send the midwife presently168 to me.
The midwife and the nurse well made away,
170 Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,
And secretly to greet the empress’ friends.
Come on, you thick-lipped slave, I’ll bear you hence,
For it is you that puts us to our shifts:179
180 I’ll make you feed on berries and on roots,
And feed on curds and whey,181 and suck the goat,
And cabin182 in a cave, and bring you up
To be a warrior and command a camp.
Sir Boy, let me see your archery.
Look ye draw home3 enough, and ’tis there straight.
Terras Astraea reliquit4: be you remembered,
5 Marcus, she’s gone, she’s fled.— Sirs, take you to your tools.
You, cousins,6 shall go sound the ocean,
And cast your nets:
Haply8 you may find her in the sea,
Yet there’s9 as little justice as at land.
10 No, Publius and Sempronius, you must do it,
’Tis you must dig with mattock11 and with spade,
And pierce the inmost centre of the earth.
Then, when you come to Pluto’s region,13
I pray you deliver him this petition.
15 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 time19 I threw the people’s suffrages
20 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-war22 unsearched:
This wicked emperor may have shipped her23 hence,
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for24 justice.
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?26
By day and night t’attend him carefully28
And feed his humour29 kindly as we may,
30 Till time beget some careful30 remedy.
Join32 with the Goths and with revengeful war
Take wreak33 on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
What, have you met with her?36
If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall.
Marry, for39 Justice, she is so employed,
40 He thinks with Jove in heaven or somewhere else,
So that perforce41 you must needs stay a time.
I’ll dive into the burning lake43 below
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
45 Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we,
No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops’46 size,
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
Yet wrung48 with wrongs more than our backs can bear.
And sith49 there’s no justice in earth nor hell,
50 We will solicit heaven and move50 the gods
To send down Justice for to51 wreak our wrongs.
Come, to this gear.52 You are a good archer, Marcus:
‘Ad Jovem’, that’s for you: here, ‘Ad Apollinem’:
‘Ad Martem’,54 that’s for myself:
55 Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine.
You57 were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy! Marcus, loose58 when I bid.
Of59 my word, I have written to effect:
60 There’s not a god left unsolicited.
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
O, well said,64 Lucius.
65 Good boy, in Virgo’s65 lap. Give it Pallas.
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
70 See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’70 horns.
The bull, being galled,72 gave Aries such a knock
That down fell both the ram’s horns73 in the court,
And who should find them but the empress’ villain!74
75 She laughed and told the Moor he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present.
News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post78 is come.—
Sirrah, what tidings? Have you any letters?
80 Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter?
But give your pigeons to the emperor.
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
Hold,99 hold — meanwhile here’s money for thy charges.
100 Give me pen and ink. Writes
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?101
then look for105 your reward. I’ll be at hand, sir: see you do it bravely.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration—
For thou must take it like an humble suppliant. To the Clown
110 And when thou hast given it the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
An emperor in Rome thus overborne,2
Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent3
Of equal justice, used in such contempt?
5 My lords, you know, as know the mightful5 gods,
However these disturbers of our peace
Buzz in the people’s ears, there nought hath passed7
But even8 with law against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
10 His sorrows have so overwhelmed his wits,
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,11
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’,
15 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 blazoning18 our injustice everywhere?
A goodly humour,19 is it not, my lords?
20 As who would say, in Rome no justice were.
But if I live, his feignèd ecstasies
Shall be no shelter to these outrages,
But he and his shall know that justice lives
In Saturninus’ health, whom, if she24 sleep,
25 He’ll so awake as she in fury shall
Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives.
Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,
Calm thee and bear the faults of Titus’ age,
30 Th’effects of sorrow for his valiant sons
Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarred his heart;
And rather comfort his distressèd plight
Than prosecute the meanest33 or the best
For these contempts.— Why, thus it shall become
35 High-witted35 Tamora to gloze withal.
But, Titus, I have touched 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?
Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?
50 I know from whence this same device50 proceeds.
May this be borne as if his traitorous sons,
That died by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butchered wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair:
55 Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.55
For this proud mock I’ll be thy slaughterman,56
Sly frantic57 wretch that holp’st to make me great
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.
What news with thee, Emillius?
The Goths have gathered head,61 and with a power
Of high-resolvèd men bent62 to the spoil
They hither march amain,63 under conduct
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus,
65 Who threats in course of this revenge to do
As much as ever Coriolanus66 did.
These tidings nip me68 and I hang the head
As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms.
70 Ay, now begins our sorrows to approach:
’Tis he the common people love so much.
Myself hath often heard them say,
When I have walkèd73 like a private man,
That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully,74
75 And they have wished that Lucius were their emperor.
And will revolt from me to succour him.
80 Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle suffers81 little birds to sing,
And is not careful82 what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint84 their melody:
85 Even so mayst thou the giddy85 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-stalks89 to sheep,
90 When as the one is wounded with the bait,
The other rotted91 with delicious food.
For I can smooth94 and fill his agèd ear
95 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 to be our ambassador: To Emillius
Say that the emperor requests a parley99
100 Of warlike Lucius, and appoint100 the meeting
Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus.
And if he stand in103 hostage for his safety,
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
And temper107 him with all the art I have,
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,
110 And bury all thy fear in my devices.
I have receivèd letters from great Rome
Which signifies what hate they bear their emperor,
And how desirous of our sight they are.
5 Therefore, great lords, be, as5 your titles witness,
Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,
And wherein Rome hath done you any scathe7
Let him make treble satisfaction.
10 Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold13 in us. we’ll follow where thou lead’st,
Like stinging bees in hottest summer’s day
15 Led by their master15 to the flowered fields,
And be avenged on cursèd Tamora.
But who comes here, led by a lusty19 Goth?
To gaze upon a ruinous monastery,
And as I earnestly22 did fix mine eye
Upon the wasted building, suddenly
I heard a child cry underneath a wall.
25 I made unto the noise, when soon I heard
The crying babe controlled26 with this discourse:
‘Peace, tawny27 slave, half me and half thy dam!
Did not thy hue bewray28 whose brat thou art,
Had nature lent thee but thy mother’s look,
30 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 rates33 the babe —
‘For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth
35 Who, when he knows thou art the empress’ babe,
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother’s sake.’
With this, my weapon drawn, I rushed upon him,
Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither
To use39 as you think needful of the man.
That robbed Andronicus of his good hand,
This is the pearl42 that pleased your empress’ eye,
And here’s the base fruit43 of his burning lust.—
Say, wall-eyed44 slave, whither wouldst thou convey To Aaron
45 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.
First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl:51
A sight to vex the father’s soul withal.52
Get me a ladder. A ladder is brought which Aaron is made to climb
55 And bear it from me to the emperess.
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!’
Thy child shall live and I will see it nourished.
’Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak,
For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres,
65 Acts of black night, abominable deeds,
Complots66 of mischief, treason, villainies
Ruthful67 to hear yet piteously performed:
And this shall all be buried by my death
Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?
75 Yet for75 I know thou art religious
And hast a thing within thee called conscience,
With twenty popish77 tricks and ceremonies
Which I have seen thee careful to observe:
Therefore I urge thy oath, for that I know
80 An idiot holds his bauble80 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,
85 To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up,
Or else I will discover86 nought to thee.
To91 that which thou shalt hear of me anon.
’Twas her two sons that murdered Bassianus,
They cut thy sister’s tongue and ravished her
And cut her hands off and trimmed94 her as thou saw’st.
Trim97 sport for them that had the doing of it.
100 That codding100 spirit had they from their mother,
As101 sure a card as ever won the set:
That bloody102 mind, I think, they learned of me,
As true a dog103 as ever fought at head.
Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.
105 I trained105 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 mentioned,
Confederate109 with the queen and her two sons:
110 And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue
Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it?
I played the cheater112 for thy father’s hand,
And when I had it, drew myself apart
And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter:
115 I pried me115 through the crevice of a wall
When for his hand he had his two sons’ heads,
Beheld his tears and laughed so heartily
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his.
And when I told the empress of this sport,
120 She swoonèd almost at my pleasing tale
And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses.
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,
130 Ravish a maid or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,131
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor men’s cattle break their necks,
Set fire on barns and haystacks in the night
135 And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves
And set them upright at their dear friends’ door,
Even when their sorrows almost was forgot,
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
140 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
145 But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
So sweet a death as hanging presently.147 Aaron is made to climb down
To live and burn in everlasting fire,
150 So I might have your company in hell,
But to torment you with my bitter tongue.
Desires to be admitted to your presence.
Welcome, Emillius what’s the news from Rome?
The Roman emperor greets you all by me,
And for159 he understands you are in arms,
160 He craves a parley at your father’s house,
Willing you to demand your hostages,161
And they shall be immediately delivered.
165 Unto my father and my uncle Marcus,
And we will come. March away.
I will encounter with Andronicus
And say I am Revenge, sent from below
To join with him and right his heinous wrongs:
5 Knock at his study, where they say he keeps,5
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge:
Tell7 him Revenge is come to join with him
And work confusion8 on his enemies.
10 Is it your trick to make me ope10 the door,
That so my sad decrees11 may fly away
And all my study be to no effect?
You are deceived, for what I mean to do
See here in bloody lines14 I have set down,
15 And what is written shall be executed.15
Wanting18 a hand to give it action?
Thou hast the odds of19 me, therefore no more.
Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines,
Witness these trenches23 made by grief and care,
Witness the tiring day and heavy24 night,
25 Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well
For our proud empress, mighty Tamora.
Is not thy coming for my other hand?
She is thy enemy and I thy friend.
30 I am Revenge, sent from th’infernal kingdom
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind
By working wreakful32 vengeance on thy foes.
Come down and welcome me to this world’s light,
Confer with me of murder and of death:
35 There’s not a hollow cave or lurking place,
No vast obscurity or misty vale
Where bloody murder or detested rape
Can couch38 for fear, but I will find them out,
And in their ears tell them my dreadful39 name,
40 Revenge, which makes the foul offenders quake.
To be a torment to mine enemies?
45 Lo by thy side where Rape and Murder stands:
Now give some surance46 that thou art Revenge:
Stab them or tear them on thy chariot-wheels,
And then I’ll come and be thy wagoner,
And whirl along with thee about the globes,49
50 Provide thee two proper palfreys,50 as black as jet,
To hale51 thy vengeful wagon swift away,
And find out murder52 in their guilty caves.
And when thy car53 is loaden with their heads,
I will dismount and by the wagon wheel
55 Trot like a servile footman all day long,
Even from Hyperion’s56 rising in the east
Until his very downfall57 in the sea.
And day by day I’ll do this heavy task,
So59 thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.
Cause they take vengeance of63 such kind of men.
65 And you the empress! But we worldly65 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.
Whate’er I forge71 to feed his brainsick fits,
Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches,
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge,
And, being credulous in this mad thought,
75 I’ll make him send for Lucius his son,
And whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,76
I’ll find some cunning practice77 out of hand
To scatter and disperse the giddy78 Goths,
Or at the least make them his enemies.
80 See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.80
Welcome, dread Fury,82 to my woeful house:
Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too.
How like the empress and her sons you are!
85 Well are you fitted,85 had you but a Moor:
Could not all hell afford you such a devil?
For well I wot the empress never wags87
But in her company there is a Moor,
And, would you represent our queen aright
90 It were convenient90 you had such a devil.
But welcome as you are. What shall we do?
95 And I am sent to be revenged on him.
And I’ll be revengèd on them all.
And when thou find’st a man that’s like thyself,
100 Good Murder, stab him: he’s a murderer.—
Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap101 To Chiron
To find another that is like to thee,
Good Rapine, stab him: he is a ravisher.—
Go thou with them, and in the emperor’s court To Tamora
105 There is a queen, attended by a Moor —
Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion,106
For up and down107 she doth resemble thee —
I pray thee do on them some violent death:
They have been violent to me and mine.
But would it please thee, good Andronicus,
To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son,
Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths,
And bid him come and banquet at thy house?
115 When he is here, even at thy solemn115 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.
120 What says Andronicus to this device?
Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius —
Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths —
Bid him repair124 to me and bring with him
125 Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths.
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:
Tell him the emperor and the empress too
Feasts at my house, and he shall feast with them.
This do thou for my love, and so let him,
130 As he regards his agèd father’s life.
And take my ministers along with me.
135 Or else I’ll call my brother back again,
And cleave to no revenge but136 Lucius.
Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor
How I have governed139 our determined jest?
140 Yield to his humour, smooth140 and speak him fair,
And tarry with him till I turn141 again.
And will o’erreach them in their own devices:
A pair of cursèd hell-hounds and their dam!
To lay a complot to betray thy foes.
Publius, come hither.— Caius and Valentine!
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,
160 And now I find it: therefore bind them sure, They seize Chiron
And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.161
Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word.
165 Is he sure bound? Look that you bind them fast.
Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful words I utter.
O villains, Chiron and Demetrius,
170 Here stands the spring170 whom you have stained with mud,
This goodly summer with your winter mixed.
You killed her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemned to death,
My hand cut off and made a merry jest,
175 Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrained and forced.
What would you say if I should let you speak?
Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.
180 Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr180 you.
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilst that Lavinia ’tween her stumps doth hold
The basin that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me,
185 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,187
And of the paste a coffin188 I will rear
And make two pasties189 of your shameful heads,
190 And bid that strumpet,190 your unhallowed dam,
Like to the earth swallow her own increase.191
This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit193 on:
For worse than Philomel you used my daughter,
195 And worse than Progne195 I will be revenged.
And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come,
Receive the blood, and when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small
And with this hateful liquor temper199 it,
200 And in that paste let their vile heads be baked.
Come, come, be everyone officious201
To make this banquet, which I wish might prove
More stern and bloody than the Centaurs’ feast.203
So, now bring them in, for I’ll play the cook,
205 And see them ready gainst205 their mother comes.
That I repair to Rome, I am content.
5 This ravenous tiger, this accursèd 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 ambush9 of our friends be strong:
10 I fear the emperor means no good to us.
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart.
15 Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. Flourish.
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
20 These quarrels must be quietly debated.
The feast is ready which the careful21 Titus
Hath ordainèd to an honourable end,
For peace, for love, for league and good to Rome:
Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.
Welcome, ye warlike Goths.— Welcome, Lucius.—
And welcome, all. Although the cheer28 be poor,
’Twill fill your stomachs. Please you eat of it.
To entertain your highness and your empress.
35 My lord the emperor, resolve me this:
Was it well done of rash Virginius36
To slay his daughter with his own right hand,
Because she was enforced, stained and deflowered?
And by her presence still42 renew his sorrows.
A pattern, precedent and lively44 warrant
45 For me, most wretched, to perform the like. Unveils Lavinia
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee,
And with thy shame thy father’s sorrow die!
50 I am as woeful as Virginius was,
And have a thousand times more cause than he
To do this outrage:52 and it now is done.
They ravished her and cut away her tongue,
And they, ’twas they, that did her all this wrong.
Whereof their mother daintily61 hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
’Tis true, ’tis true, witness my knife’s sharp point.
There’s meed for meed,66 death for a deadly deed. Kills Saturninus. An uproar, during which Lucius and Marcus may go aloft
By uproars severed, like a flight of fowl
Scattered by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
70 O, let me teach you how to knit again
This scattered corn into one mutual71 sheaf,
These broken limbs again into one body.
And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to,
75 Like a forlorn75 and desperate castaway,
Do shameful execution on herself.
Grave witnesses of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,
80 Speak, Rome’s dear friend, as erst80 our ancestor, To Lucius
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
To lovesick Dido’s sad attending ear
The story of that baleful83 burning night
When subtle84 Greeks surprised King Priam’s Troy.
85 Tell us what Sinon85 hath bewitched our ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine86 in
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
My heart is not compact88 of flint nor steel,
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
90 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 hand commiseration.
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale:
95 Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
That cursèd Chiron and Demetrius
Were they that murderèd our emperor’s brother,
And they it were that ravishèd our sister.
100 For their fell100 faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father’s tears despised and basely cozened101
Of that true hand that fought102 Rome’s quarrel out,
And sent her enemies unto the grave.
Lastly, myself unkindly104 banishèd,
105 The gates shut on me, and turned weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome’s enemies,
Who drowned their enmity in my true tears
And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend.
And I am turned forth, be it known to you,
110 That have preserved her welfare in my blood,
And from her bosom took the enemy’s point,
Sheathing the steel in my advent’rous112 body.
Alas, you know I am no vaunter,113 I:
My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
115 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.
120 Of this was Tamora deliverèd,
The issue of an irreligious Moor,
Chief architect and plotter of these woes.
The villain is alive in Titus’ house,
And as he is to witness this is true,
125 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 aught129 amiss? Show us wherein,
130 And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor131 remainder of Andronici
Will hand in hand all headlong cast us down
And on the ragged133 stones beat forth our brains
And make a mutual closure of our house.
135 Speak, Romans, speak: and if you say we shall,
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand,
Lucius, our emperor, for well I know
140 The common voice do cry it shall be so.
Go, go into old Titus’ sorrowful house, To Goths
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,
145 As punishment for his most wicked life. [Exeunt Goths]
To heal Rome’s harms and wipe away her woe!
But, gentle people, give me aim149 awhile,
150 For nature puts me to a heavy task:
Stand all aloof,151 but, uncle, draw you near
To shed obsequious152 tears upon this trunk.—
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale, cold lips, Kisses Titus
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stained face,
155 The last true duties of thy noble son!
Thy brother Marcus tenders157 on thy lips.
O were the sum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.
To melt in showers. Thy grandsire loved thee well:
Many a time he danced thee on his knee,
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow:
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
165 Meet165 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 associate169 friends in grief and woe:
170 Bid him farewell, commit him to the grave,
Do him that kindness and take leave of him.
Would I were dead, so you did live again.
O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping,
175 My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth.
Give sentence on this execrable wretch
That hath been breeder of these dire events.
180 There let him stand and rave and cry for food.
If anyone relieves or pities him,
For the offence he dies. This is our doom:182
Some stay to see him fastened in the earth.
185 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
190 I do repent it from my very soul.
And give him burial in his father’s grave:
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closèd in our household’s monument.
195 As for that heinous195 tiger, Tamora,
No funeral rite, nor man in mourning 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,
200 And being so, shall have like want of pity.
{See justice done on Aaron, that damned Moor,}
{From whom our heavy haps202 had their beginning:}
{Then afterwards, to order well the state,}
{That like events may ne’er it ruinate.}
Q = First Quarto text of 1594
Q2 = Second Quarto text of 1600
F = First Folio text of 1623
F2 = a correction introduced in the Second Folio text of 1632
F3 = a correction introduced in the Third Folio text of 1663
F4 = a correction introduced in the Fourth Folio text of 1685
Ed = a correction introduced by a later editor
SD = stage direction
SH = speech heading (i.e., speaker’s name)
List of parts = Ed
1.1.18 SH MARCUS = Ed. Not in F 23 Pius = Q. F = Pious 71 freight spelled fraught in F 132 not = Q. F = me 174 are = Q. F = are all 214 friends = Q. F = Friend? 223 suit = Ed. F = sure. Q = sute 224 our = Q. F = your 242 Pantheon = F2. F = Pathan 252 thy = Q. F = my 258 you = Q. F = your 259 your honour = Q. F = you Honor 269 you = Q. F = your 280 cuique = F2. F = cuiquam 318 Phoebe = F2. F = Thebe 352 hundred spelled hundreth in F 362 vouch = Q. F = vouch’d 366 struck spelled stroke in F 382 wise = Q. Not in F 392 SH MARCUS…SONS = Ed. F = They all kneele and say 401 SH MARCUS = Ed. Not in F (the line is only in F, not Q1–3) 450 you = Q. F = vs 454 raze spelled race in F 462 SH SATURNINUS = Q. F = King. 477 SH LUCIUS = Ed. F = Son 487 SD stand up printed as part of the dialogue in F (“haynous faults. / Stand vp:”) 489 swore = Q. F = sware 497 SD Flourish placed at the beginning of the next scene in F
2.1.4 above = Q. F = about 22 nymph = Q. F = Queene 26 want = F2. F = wants 64 petty = Q. F = pretty 66 jet = Q. F = set 72 discord’s = Q. F = discord 107 That…speed = Q. Not in F 117 than = Ed. F = this
2.2.18 broad = Q. Not in F 26 like = Q. F = likes
2.3.54 quarrels = Q. F = quarrell 56 her = Q. F = our 64 thy = Q. F = his 85 note = Ed. F = notice 136 woman’s = Q. F = woman 204 hurt = Q. Not in F 236 Cocytus’ = F2. F = Ocitus 245 SD Both = Ed. F = Boths 260 SH SATURNINUS = Q.F = King. gride = Ed. F = grieu’d 268 SH SATURNINUS = Ed. Not in F
2.4.5 scrawl = Q (scrowle). F = scowle 11 SH MARCUS = Ed. Not in F (but implied in previous SD) 27 him = Ed. F = them 30 three = Ed. F = their
3.1.12 two = Ed. Not in F 28 you = Q. Not in F 34 or = Q2. F = oh did mark = Q. F = did heare 115 them = Q. F = him 125 like = Q. F = in 146 his true = F4. F = hertrue 150, 174, 189 SH AARON = Ed. F = Moore 193 your = Q. F = you 194 my = Q. F = me 198 for = Q. F = for for 226 blow = F2. F = flow 256 hand = Q. F = hands 257 son = Q. F = sonnes 260 thy = Q. F = my 261 Rend spelled Rent in F 299 like = Q. F = likes
3.2.13 with outrageous = F2. F = without ragious 39 complainer = Ed. F = complaynet 52 thy knife = F2. F = knife 53 fly = Ed. F = Flys 54 thee = F3. F = the 55 are = F2. Not in F 72 myself = F2. F = my selfes
4.1.9 her not= Q. F = not 41 for = Q. F = to 47 SD Helps her printed as part of the dialogue in F (“Helpe her, what would she finde”) 65 erst = Q. F = ersts 72 here = Ed. Not in F 79 writ = Q. F = writs 93 swore = F3. F = sweare
4.2.8 SH BOY…news, = Q. Not in F 15 that = Ed. Not in F 27 them = Q. F = the 44 your = Q. F = you 70 fair-faced = Q. F = fairest 78 SH AARON…mother = Q. Not in F 141 as = Q. F = at 154 Muly lives = Ed. F = Muliteus
4.3.48 backs = Q. F = backe 56 Saturn, Caius = Ed. F = Saturnine, to Caius 77 his = Q. F = your 109 must take = Ed.F = hast made
4.4.5 know, as know= Q. F = know 24–5 she…she = Ed. F = he…he 34 SD Aside printed at line 35 in F 43 SD Saturninus = Ed. F = He 58 SD a Messenger = Ed. F = Nuntius (Latin for “messenger”) 98 to be = Q. F = to 101 Even…Andronicus = Q. Not in F 111 to = Q. F = for
5.1.9 SH FIRST GOTH = Ed.F = Goth. 13 Be bold = Q. F = behold 17 SH ALL THE GOTHS = F2. Not in F 20 SH SECOND = Ed. Not in F 53 Get…ladder assigned to Aaron in F 87 to = Q. F = to to 120 swoonèd spelled sounded in F 127 the = Q. F = few 156 what’s = Q. F = what
5.2.31 thy = Q. F = the 32 thy = Q. F = my 52 caves = F2. F = cares 56 Hyperion’s = F2. F = Eptons 61 these = Ed. F = them 80 ply = Q. F = play 161 And…cry = Q. Not in F 165 F mistakenly prints “Exeunt” here 191 own = Q. Not in F
5.3.7 empress’ = Q. F = Emperous 10 I fear = Q. F = If ere 52 To…done = Q. Not in F 73 SH A GOTH = F (Goth). Q = Romane Lord 74 curtsy spelled cursie in F 77 SH MARCUS = Ed. F continues with Goth as speaker, Q with Romane Lord 93–7 Lending…Demetrius = F. Q = And force you to commiseration, / Her’s Romes young Captaine let him tell the tale, / While I stand by and weepe to heare him speake. / Lucius. Then gratious auditorie be it knowne to you, / That Chiron and the damn’d Demetrius 125 cause = F4. F = course 130 now = F. Q = pleading 132 cast us down = F. Q = hurle our selues 133 brains = F. Q = soules 146 SH ALL ROMANS = Ed. Not in F 154 blood-stained = F3. F = bloud-slaine 164 matter = F. Q = storie 165–9 Meet…woe = F. Q = And bid thee bare his prettie tales in minde, / And talke of them when he was dead and gone. / Marcus. How manie thousand times hath these poore lips, / When they were liuing warmd themselues on thine, / Oh now sweete boy giue them their latest kisse 176 SH A ROMAN = Q. F = Romans. 196 mourning = Q. F = mournfull