The source of all erection. Theres more gold:


Do you damn others, and let this damn you,


More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.


More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.


Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:


If I hope well, Ill never see thee more.


Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take


Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA


That nature, being sick of mans unkindness,


Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,


Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,


Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,


Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffd,


Engenders the black toad and adder blue,


The gilded newt and eyeless venomd worm,


With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven


Whereon Hyperions quickening fire doth shine;


Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,


From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!


Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,


Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!


Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;


Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face


Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--


Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;


Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts


And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,


Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.


Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,


Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!


From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?


This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?


Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;


Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot


That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,


Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive


By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,


And let his very breath, whom thoult observe,


Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,


And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;


Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome


To knaves and all approachers: tis most just


That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,


Rascals should have t. Do not assume my likeness.


Were I like thee, Ild throw away myself.


Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;


A madman so long, now a fool. What, thinkst


That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,


Will put thy shirt on warm? will these mossd trees,


That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,


And skip where thou pointst out? will the


Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,


To cure thy oer-nights surfeit? Call the creatures


Whose naked natures live in an the spite


Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,


Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;


I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.


If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on


To castigate thy pride, twere well: but thou


Dost it enforcedly; thouldst courtier be again,


Outlives encertain pomp, is crownd before:


The one is filling still, never complete;


The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,


Hath a distracted and most wretched being,


Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.


Not by his breath that is more miserable.


Thou art a slave, whom Fortunes tender arm


With favour never claspd; but bred a dog.


Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded


The sweet degrees that this brief world affords


Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself


In different beds of lust; and never learnd


The icy precepts of respect, but followd


The sugard game before thee. But myself,


The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men


At duty, more than I could frame employment,


Do on the oak, hive with one winters brush


Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare


For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,


That never knew but better, is some burden:


Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time


Hath made thee hard int. Why shouldst thou hate men?


They never flatterd thee: what hast thou given?


If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,


Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff


If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,


Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,


Ild give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.


That the whole life of Athens were in this!


First mend my company, take away thyself.


So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.


Tis not well mended so, it is but botchd;


Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,


Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.


For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.


Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat


Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!


The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the


extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt


and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much


curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art


despised for the contrary. Theres a medlar for


An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst


have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou


ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?


Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou


I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a


What things in the world canst thou nearest compare


Women nearest; but men, men are the things


themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,


Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.


Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of


men, and remain a beast with the beasts?


A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t


attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would


beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would


eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would


suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by


the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would


torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a


breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy


greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst


hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the


unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and


make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert


thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:


wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the


leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to


the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on


thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy


defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that


were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art


thou already, that seest not thy loss in


If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou


mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of


How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?


Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of


company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it


and give way: when I know not what else to do, Ill


When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be


welcome. I had rather be a beggars dog than Apemantus.


Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.


Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!


A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.


All villains that do stand by thee are pure.


There is no leprosy but what thou speakst.


Ill beat thee, but I should infect my hands.


Choler does kill me that thou art alive;


Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose


I am sick of this false world, and will love nought


Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;


Lie where the light foam the sea may beat


Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,


That death in me at others lives may laugh.


O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce


Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler


Of Hymens purest bed! thou valiant Mars!


Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,


Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow


That lies on Dians lap! thou visible god,


To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!


Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue


Set them into confounding odds, that beasts


But not till I am dead. Ill say thoust gold:


Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.


Where should he have this gold? It is some poor


fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the


mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his


friends, drove him into this melancholy.


It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.


Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not


fort, he will supply us easily; if he covetously


True; for he bears it not about him, tis hid.


We are not thieves, but men that much do want.


Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.


Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;


Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;


The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;


The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush


Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?


We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,


Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;


You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con


That you are thieves professd, that you work not


In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft


Heres gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o the grape,


Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,


And so scape hanging: trust not the physician;


Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;


Do villany, do, since you protest to dot,


Like workmen. Ill example you with thievery.


The suns a thief, and with his great attraction


Robs the vast sea: the moons an arrant thief,


And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:


The seas a thief, whose liquid surge resolves


The moon into salt tears: the earths a thief,


That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen


From general excrement: each things a thief:


The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power


Have unchequed theft. Love not yourselves: away,


Rob one another. Theres more gold. Cut throats:


All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,


Break open shops; nothing can you steal,


But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this


I give you; and gold confound you howsoeer! Amen.


Has almost charmed me from my profession, by


Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises


us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.


Ill believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.


Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time


Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?


And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowd!


What viler thing upon the earth than friends


Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!


How rarely does it meet with this times guise,


Those that would mischief me than those that do!


Has caught me in his eye: I will present


My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,


Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!


Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;


Then, if thou grantst thourt a man, I have forgot thee.


I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.


Neer did poor steward wear a truer grief


For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.


What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I


Because thou art a woman, and disclaimst


Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give


But thorough lust and laughter. Pitys sleeping:


Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!


To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts


So true, so just, and now so comfortable?


It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.


Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man


Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,


One honest man--mistake me not--but one;


How fain would I have hated all mankind!


And thou redeemst thyself: but all, save thee,


Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;


Thou mightst have sooner got another service:


Upon their first lords neck. But tell me true--


For I must ever doubt, though neer so sure--


If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,


No, my most worthy master; in whose breast


Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:


You should have feard false times when you did feast:


Suspect still comes where an estate is least.


That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,


Care of your food and living; and, believe it,


For this one wish, that you had power and wealth


Look thee, tis so! Thou singly honest man,


Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;


But thus conditiond: thou shalt build from men;


Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,


But let the famishd flesh slide from the bone,


Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs


What thou denyst to men; let prisons swallow em,


And may diseases lick up their false bloods!


Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:


Neer see thou man, and let me neer see thee.


Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching them from his cave


As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where


Whats to be thought of him? does the rumour hold


Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and


Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor


straggling soldiers with great quantity: tis said


Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.


Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens


again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore


tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this


supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in


us; and is very likely to load our purposes with


what they travail for, if it be a just true report


Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will


I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent


Good as the best. Promising is the very air o the


performance is ever the duller for his act; and,


but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the


deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is


most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind


of will or testament which argues a great sickness


[Aside]  Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a


I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for


him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire


against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery


of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.


[Aside]  Must thou needs stand for a villain in


thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in


When we may profit meet, and come too late.


When the day serves, before black-cornerd night,


Find what thou wantst by free and offerd light. Come.


[Aside]  Ill meet you at the turn. What a


Tis thou that riggst the bark and ploughst the foam,


To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye


Be crownd with plagues that thee alone obey!


Have I once lived to see two honest men?


Having often of your open bounty tasted,


Hearing you were retired, your friends falln off,


Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--


Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:


Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence


To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover


Let it go naked, men may seet the better:


You that are honest, by being what you are,


Have travaild in the great shower of your gifts,


We are hither come to offer you our service.


Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?


Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.


What we can do, well do, to do you service.


Yere honest men: yeve heard that I have gold;


I am sure you have: speak truth; yere honest men.


So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore


Good honest men! Thou drawst a counterfeit


Best in all Athens: thourt, indeed, the best;


Een so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,


Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth


That thou art even natural in thine art.


But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,


I must needs say you have a little fault:


Marry, tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I


Theres never a one of you but trusts a knave,


Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,


Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,


Look you, I love you well; Ill give you gold,


Rid me these villains from your companies:


Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,


Confound them by some course, and come to me,


You that way and you this, but two in company;


If where thou art two villains shall not be,


Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside


But where one villain is, then him abandon.


Hence, pack! theres gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:


You have workd for me; theres payment for you: hence!


You are an alchemist; make gold of that.


Beats them out, and then retires to his cave


It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;


That nothing but himself which looks like man


It is our part and promise to the Athenians


Men are not still the same: twas time and griefs


That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,


Offering the fortunes of his former days,


The former man may make him. Bring us to him,


Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!


Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians,


By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:


Thou sun, that comfortst, burn! Speak, and


For each true word, a blister! and each false


Be as cauterizing to the root o the tongue,


Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.


The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.


I thank them; and would send them back the plague,


What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.


Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought


Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:


Which now the public body, which doth seldom


Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;


And send forth us, to make their sorrowd render,


Together with a recompense more fruitful


Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;


Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth


As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs


And write in thee the figures of their love,


Lend me a fools heart and a womans eyes,


And Ill beweep these comforts, worthy senators.


Therefore, so please thee to return with us


And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take


The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,


Allowd with absolute power and thy good name


Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back


Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up


Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:


That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens,


And take our goodly aged men by the beards,


Of contumelious, beastly, mad-braind war,


Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,


I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,


And let him taket at worst; for their knives care not,


While you have throats to answer: for myself,


The reverendst throat in Athens. So I leave you


To the protection of the prosperous gods,


it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness


Of health and living now begins to mend,


And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;


These words become your lips as they pass


And enter in our ears like great triumphers


And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,


Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,


Their pangs of love, with other incident throes


That natures fragile vessel doth sustain


In lifes uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:


Ill teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades wrath.


I have a tree, which grows here in my close,


That mine own use invites me to cut down,


And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,


From high to low throughout, that whoso please


To stop affliction, let him take his haste,


Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,


And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.


Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.


Come not to me again: but say to Athens,


Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;


The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,


Lips, let sour words go by and language end:


What is amiss plague and infection mend!


Graves only be mens works and death their gain!


Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.


And strain what other means is left unto us


Thou hast painfully discoverd: are his files


We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.


I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;


Whom, though in general part we were opposed,


Yet our old love made a particular force,


And made us speak like friends: this man was riding


With letters of entreaty, which imported


His fellowship i the cause against your city,


No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.


The enemies drum is heard, and fearful scouring


Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare:


Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare.


SCENE III. The woods. Timons cave, and a rude tomb seen.


By all description this should be the place.


Whos here? speak, ho! No answer! What is this?


Timon is dead, who hath outstretchd his span:


Some beast reard this; there does not live a man.


Dead, sure; and this his grave. Whats on this tomb


I cannot read; the character Ill take with wax:


An aged interpreter, though young in days:


Before proud Athens hes set down by this,


Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers


Sound to this coward and lascivious town


Till now you have gone on and filld the time


With all licentious measure, making your wills


The scope of justice; till now myself and such


As slept within the shadow of your power


Hav e wanderd with our traversed arms and breathed


Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush,


When crouching marrow in the bearer strong


Cries of itself No more: now breathless wrong


Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,


And pursy insolence shall break his wind


When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,


Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear,


We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm,


By humble message and by promised means:


Were not erected by their hands from whom


You have received your griefs; nor are they such


That these great towers, trophies and schools


Who were the motives that you first went out;


Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess


Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,


Which nature loathes--take thou the destined tenth,


For those that were, it is not square to take


On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands,


Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,


Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:


Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall


With those that have offended: like a shepherd,


Approach the fold and cull the infected forth,


Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile


Against our rampired gates, and they shall ope;


So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,


That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress


And not as our confusion, all thy powers


Shall make their harbour in our town, till we


Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof


Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears


Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream


Of regular justice in your citys bounds,


But shall be renderd to your public laws


The Senators descend, and open the gates


And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which


With wax I brought away, whose soft impression


wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:


Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked


Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:


Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay


These well express in thee thy latter spirits:


Though thou abhorrdst in us our human griefs,


From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit


Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye


On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead


Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,


Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each


Prescribe to other as each others leech.


The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes  and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side,  SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours


Defend the justice of my cause with arms,


Plead my successive title with your swords:


I am his first-born son, that was the last


Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right,


Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,


The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,


And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.


Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown


Princes, that strive by factions and by friends


Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand


For many good and great deserts to Rome:


Lives not this day within the city walls:


From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;


That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,


Hath yoked a nation strong, traind up in arms.


Ten years are spent since first he undertook


This cause of Rome and chastised with arms


Our enemies pride: five times he hath returnd


Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons


And now at last, laden with horrors spoils,


Whom worthily you would have now succeed.


That you withdraw you and abate your strength;


Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should,


Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.


How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!


And so I love and honour thee and thine,


And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,


That I will here dismiss my loving friends,


And to my fortunes and the peoples favor


Commit my cause in balance to be weighd.


Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,


I thank you all and here dismiss you all,


Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol


Successful in the battles that he fights,


From where he circumscribed with his sword,


And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.


Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MARTIUS and  MUTIUS; After them, two Men bearing a coffin  covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After  them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with  ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths,  prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks


Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!


Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,


From whence at first she weighd her anchorage,


Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,


To re-salute his country with his tears,


Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.


Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!


Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,


Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!


These that survive let Rome reward with love;


These that I bring unto their latest home,


Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.


Titus, unkind and careless of thine own,


Why sufferst thou thy sons, unburied yet,


There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,


And sleep in peace, slain in your countrys wars!


How many sons of mine hast thou in store,


Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,


That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile


Before this earthy prison of their bones;


Nor we disturbd with prodigies on earth.


I give him you, the noblest that survives,


The eldest son of this distressed queen.


Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror,


Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome,


But must my sons be slaughterd in the streets,


For valiant doings in their countrys cause?


Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:


Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?


Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.


These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld


Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain


To this your son is markd, and die he must,


To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.


Away with him! and make a fire straight;


And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,


Lets hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.


Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS


To tremble under Titus threatening looks.


Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal


The self-same gods that armd the Queen of Troy


When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen--


To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.


Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody


See, lord and father, how we have performd


Our Roman rites: Alarbus limbs are loppd,


Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.


Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,


And with loud larums welcome them to Rome.


Make this his latest farewell to their souls.


Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb


In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;


Romes readiest champions, repose you here in rest,


Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!


Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,


Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,


No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:


In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!


In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;


And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,


Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:


O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,


Whose fortunes Romes best citizens applaud!


Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved


The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!


Lavinia, live; outlive thy fathers days,


And fames eternal date, for virtues praise!


Enter, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes; re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended


Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,


Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.


And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,


You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!


Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,


That in your countrys service drew your swords:


And triumphs over chance in honours bed.


Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,


Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,


This palliament of white and spotless hue;


And name thee in election for the empire,


With these our late-deceased emperors sons:


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?


To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,


And set abroad new business for you all?


Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,


And led my countrys strength successfully,


Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,


In right and service of their noble country


Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.


Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.


Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?


Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not


Andronicus, would thou wert shippd to hell,


Rather than rob me of the peoples hearts!


Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good


Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee


The peoples hearts, and wean them from themselves.


But honour thee, and will do till I die:


My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,


I will most thankful be; and thanks to men


People of Rome, and peoples tribunes here,


Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?


Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make,


That you create your emperors eldest son,


Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,


Reflect on Rome as Titans rays on earth,


Crown him and say Long live our emperor!


And say Long live our Emperor Saturnine!


I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,


And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:


Romes royal mistress, mistress of my heart,


Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?


It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match


The wide worlds emperor, do I consecrate


Presents well worthy Romes imperial lord:


Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,


Mine honours ensigns humbled at thy feet.


[To TAMORA]  Now, madam, are you prisoner to


To him that, for your honour and your state,


That I would choose, were I to choose anew.


Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:


Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,


Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome:


Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you


Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.


Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?


Warrants these words in princely courtesy.


Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go;


Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:


Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.


Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show


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


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


To do myself this reason and this right.


This prince in justice seizeth but his own.


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


Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperors guard?


Bear his betrothd from all the world away.


Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA


Brothers, help to convey her hence away,


And with my sword Ill keep this door safe.


Follow, my lord, and Ill soon bring her back.


During the fray, SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON go out and re-enter, above


My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so,


In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.


Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.


Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,


No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,


Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:


Ill trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;


Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,


Was there none else in Rome to make a stale,


Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,


That saidst I beggd the empire at thy hands.


O monstrous! what reproachful words are these?


But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece


To him that flourishd for her with his sword


These words are razors to my wounded heart.


And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths,


That like the stately Phoebe mongst her nymphs


Dost overshine the gallantst dames of Rome,


If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,


Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,


Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?


And tapers burn so bright and every thing


I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,


Or climb my palace, till from forth this place


And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear,


If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,


Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany


Your noble emperor and his lovely bride,


Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,


Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered:


There shall we consummate our spousal rites.


Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,


Dishonourd thus, and challenged of wrongs?


Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS


O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!


No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,


Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed


Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb:


This monument five hundred years hath stood,


Here none but soldiers and Romes servitors


Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:


Bury him where you can; he comes not here.


And shall! what villain was it that spake


He that would vouch it in any place but here.


Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest,


And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded:


So, trouble me no more, but get you gone.


He is not with himself; let us withdraw.


Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--


Father, and in that name doth nature speak,--


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


Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--


Dear father, soul and substance of us all,--


Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy


The dismallst day is this that eer I saw,


There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,


Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.


[Kneeling]  No man shed tears for noble Mutius;


He lives in fame that died in virtues cause.


My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps,


How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths


Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell:


That brought her for this high good turn so far?


Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS  attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON; from the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others


So, Bassianus, you have playd your prize:


God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride!


And you of yours, my lord! I say no more,


Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave.


Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power,


Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.


Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own,


My truth-betrothed love and now my wife?


Meanwhile I am possessd of that is mine.


Tis good, sir: you are very short with us;


But, if we live, well be as sharp with you.


My lord, what I have done, as best I may,


Answer I must and shall do with my life.


Only thus much I give your grace to know:


With his own hand did slay his youngest son,


In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath


To be controlld in that he frankly gave:


That hath expressd himself in all his deeds


Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds:


Tis thou and those that have dishonourd me.


Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,


Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,


Then hear me speak in indifferently for all;


And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.


Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend


Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs:


Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;


Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,


Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.


Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:


You are but newly planted in your throne;


Lest, then, the people, and patricians too,


Yield at entreats; and then let me alone:


And raze their faction and their family,


The cruel father and his traitorous sons,


And make them know what tis to let a queen


Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.


Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus;


Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart


That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.


Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevaild.


These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.


And must advise the emperor for his good.


And let it be mine honour, good my lord,


That I have reconciled your friends and you.


That you will be more mild and tractable.


By my advice, all humbled on your knees,


We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness,


That what we did was mildly as we might,


Tendering our sisters honour and our own.


That, on mine honour, here I do protest.


Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends:


The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;


I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back.


Marcus, for thy sake and thy brothers here,


I do remit these young mens heinous faults: Stand up.


Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,


I found a friend, and sure as death I swore


I would not part a bachelor from the priest.


Come, if the emperors court can feast two brides,


You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends.


To hunt the panther and the hart with me,


With horn and hound well give your grace bonjour.


Safe out of fortunes shot; and sits aloft,


Secure of thunders crack or lightning flash;


Advanced above pale envys threatening reach.


As when the golden sun salutes the morn,


And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,


Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,


And overlooks the highest-peering hills;


And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.


Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts,


To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,


And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long


Hast prisoner held, fetterd in amorous chains


And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes


Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!


I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,


To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen,


This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph,


This siren, that will charm Romes Saturnine,


And see his shipwreck and his commonweals.


Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge,


And manners, to intrude where I am graced;


And may, for aught thou knowst, affected be.


And so in this, to bear me down with braves.


Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate:


To serve, and to deserve my mistress grace;


And that my sword upon thee shall approve,


And plead my passions for Lavinias love.


[Aside]  Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep


Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised,


Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?


Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath


Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,


Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.


So near the emperors palace dare you draw,


Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge:


The cause were known to them it most concerns;


Nor would your noble mother for much more


Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat


That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.


For that I am prepared and full resolved.


Foul-spoken coward, that thunderst with thy tongue,


And with thy weapon nothing darest perform!


Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,


Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous


That for her love such quarrels may be broachd


Without controlment, justice, or revenge?


Young lords, beware! and should the empress know


This discords ground, the music would not please.


I care not, I, knew she and all the world:


Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice:


Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome


I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths


Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.


She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.


What, man! more water glideth by the mill


Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know:


Though Bassianus be the emperors brother.


[Aside]  Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.


Then why should he despair that knows to court it


What, hast not thou full often struck a doe,


And borne her cleanly by the keepers nose?


Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so


Then should not we be tired with this ado.


Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools


To square for this? would it offend you, then


For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar:


That you affect; and so must you resolve,


That what you cannot as you would achieve,


You must perforce accomplish as you may.


Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste


A speedier course than lingering languishment


Must we pursue, and I have found the path.


There will the lovely Roman ladies troop:


Single you thither then this dainty doe,


And strike her home by force, if not by words:


This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.


Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit


Will we acquaint with all that we intend;


And she shall file our engines with advice,


That will not suffer you to square yourselves,


But to your wishes height advance you both.


The emperors court is like the house of Fame,


The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears:


The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull;


There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take


There serve your lusts, shadowd from heavens eye,


Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice,


Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream


To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits.


SCENE II. A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard.


Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters,  and c., MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS


The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,


The fields are fragrant and the woods are green:


And wake the emperor and his lovely bride


And rouse the prince and ring a hunters peal,


That all the court may echo with the noise.


Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,


To attend the emperors person carefully:


I have been troubled in my sleep this night,


But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.


A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter  SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and Attendants


Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.


I have been broad awake two hours and more.


Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have,


Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,


And I have horse will follow where the game


Makes way, and run like swallows oer the plain.


Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound,


But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.


He that had wit would think that I had none,


Know that this gold must coin a stratagem,


And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest


That have their alms out of the empress chest.


My lovely Aaron, wherefore lookst thou sad,


When every thing doth make a gleeful boast?


The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,


The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind


And make a chequerd 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,


Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise;


And, after conflict such as was supposed


The wandering prince and Dido once enjoyd,


When with a happy storm they were surprised


And curtaind with a counsel-keeping cave,


We may, each wreathed in the others arms,


Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;


Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds


Madam, though Venus govern your desires,


My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls


Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,


Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.


Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,


His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day,


And wash their hands in Bassianus blood.


Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee,


And give the king this fatal plotted scroll.


Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty,


Which dreads not yet their lives destruction.


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


No more, great empress; Bassianus comes:


Be cross with him; and Ill go fetch thy sons


To back thy quarrels, whatsoeer they be.


To see the general hunting in this forest?


With horns, as was Actaeons; and the hounds


Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs,


Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning;


And to be doubted that your Moor and you


Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day!


Tis pity they should take him for a stag.


Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian


Why are you sequesterd from all your train,


Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed.


Great reason that my noble lord be rated


For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence,


This valley fits the purpose passing well.


The king my brother shall have note of this.


Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:


How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother!


Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?


Have I not reason, think you, to look pale?


These two have ticed me hither to this place:


The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,


Oercome with moss and baleful mistletoe:


Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,


And when they showd me this abhorred pit,


They told me, here, at dead time of the night,


A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,


Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,


Would make such fearful and confused cries


Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.


No sooner had they told this hellish tale,


But straight they told me they would bind me here


Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms


And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,


Revenge it, as you love your mothers life,


Or be ye not henceforth calld my children.


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


Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora,


For no name fits thy nature but thy own!


Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys


Your mothers hand shall right your mothers wrong.


Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her;


First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw:


And with that painted hope braves your mightiness:


And shall she carry this unto her grave?


Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,


And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.


Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.


I warrant you, madam, we wil l make that sure.


Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy


I will not hear her speak; away with her!


Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.


Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory


To see her tears; but be your heart to them


When did the tigers young ones teach the dam?


O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee;


The milk thou suckdst from her did turn to marble;


Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.


What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?


Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark:


Yet have I heard,--O, could I find it now!--


To have his princely paws pared all away:


Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,


The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:


O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,


I know not what it means; away with her!


O, let me teach thee! for my fathers sake,


That gave thee life, when well he might have


Remember, boys, I pourd forth tears in vain,


To save your brother from the sacrifice;


Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will,


The worse to her, the better loved of me.


And with thine own hands kill me in this place!


For tis not life that I have beggd so long;


What beggst thou, then? fond woman, let me go.


Tis present death I beg; and one thing more


That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:


O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,


Where never mans eye may behold my body:


So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:


No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.


Away! for thou hast stayd us here too long.


No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!


Nay, then Ill stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband:


This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.


DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the  pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging off LAVINIA


Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure.


Neer let my heart know merry cheer indeed,


Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,


And let my spleenful sons this trull deflowr.


Re-enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS


Come on, my lords, the better foot before:


Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit


My sight is very dull, whateer it bodes.


And mine, I promise you; weret not for shame,


Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.


What art thou falln? What subtle hole is this,


Whose mouth is coverd with rude-growing briers,


Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood


As fresh as morning dew distilld on flowers?


Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?


O brother, with the dismallst object hurt


That ever eye with sight made heart lament!


[Aside]  Now will I fetch the king to find them here,


How these were they that made away his brother.


Why dost not comfort me, and help me out


From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole?


A chilling sweat oer-runs my trembling joints:


My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.


To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,


And see a fearful sight of blood and death.


Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart


Will not permit mine eyes once to behold


The thing whereat it trembles by surmise;


All on a heap, like to a slaughterd lamb,


In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.


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


A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,


Doth shine upon the dead mans earthy cheeks,


And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:


When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.


O brother, help me with thy fainting hand--


If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath--


Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;


Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,


I may be pluckd into the swallowing womb


I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.


Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.


Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,


Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.


Along with me: Ill see what hole is here,


And what he is that now is leapd into it.


Say who art thou that lately didst descend


My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest:


Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;


We know not where you left him all alive;


But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.


Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and Lucius


Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief.


Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound:


Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,


And wonder greatly that mans face can fold


In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.


[Reads]  An if we miss to meet him handsomely--


Do thou so much as dig the grave for him:


Thou knowst our meaning. Look for thy reward


Which overshades the mouth of that same pit


Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.


This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.


Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out


That should have murdered Bassianus here.


My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.


[To TITUS]  Two of thy whelps, fell curs of


Have here bereft my brother of his life.


Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:


There let them bide until we have devised


Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.


What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing!


I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,


That this fell fault of my accursed sons,


Accursed if the fault be proved in them,--


If it be proved! you see it is apparent.


Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?


I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail;


They shall be ready at your highness will


To answer their suspicion with their lives.


Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me.


Some bring the murderd body, some the murderers:


Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain;


For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,


Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough.


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


Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with LAVINIA, ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out


So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,


Who twas that cut thy tongue and ravishd thee.


Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,


An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.


See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.


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


She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash;


And so lets leave her to her silent walks.


An twere my case, I should go hang myself.


If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.


Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!


If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!


If I do wake, some planet strike me down,


Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands


Have loppd and hewd and made thy body bare


Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,


Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,


As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?


Like to a bubbling fountain stirrd with wind,


Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,


But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,


And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.


Ah, now thou turnst away thy face for shame!


And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,


As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,


Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titans 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,


That I might rail at him, to ease my mind!


Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.


Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,


But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;


A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,


And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,


That could have better sewd than Philomel.


O, had the monster seen those lily hands


Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,


And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,


He would not then have touchd them for his life!


He would have droppd his knife, and fell asleep


Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;


For such a sight will blind a fathers eye:


One hours storm will drown the fragrant meads;


What will whole months of tears thy fathers eyes?


Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee


Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with MARTIUS  and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; TITUS going before, pleading


Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!


For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent


In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;


For all my blood in Romes great quarrel shed;


For all the frosty nights that I have watchd;


And for these bitter tears, which now you see


Whose souls are not corrupted as tis thought.


Lieth down; the Judges,  and c., pass by him, and Exeunt


For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write


My hearts deep languor and my souls sad tears:


Let my tears stanch the earths dry appetite;


My sons sweet blood will make it shame and blush.


O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,


That shall distil from these two ancient urns,


Than youthful April shall with all his showers:


In summers drought Ill drop upon thee still;


In winter with warm tears Ill melt the snow


And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,


So thou refuse to drink my dear sons blood.


O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men!


Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;


The tribunes hear you not; no man is by;


And you recount your sorrows to a stone.


Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.


Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,--


My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.


Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear,


They would not mark me, or if they did mark,


They would not pity me, yet plead I must;


Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;


Who, though they cannot answer my distress,


Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes,


For that they will not intercept my tale:


Receive my tears and seem to weep with me;


And, were they but attired in grave weeds,


Rome could afford no tribune like to these.


A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than stones;


And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.


But wherefore standst thou with thy weapon drawn?


To rescue my two brothers from their death:


For which attempt the judges have pronounced


Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive


That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?


Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey


But me and mine: how happy art thou, then,


But who comes with our brother Marcus here?


Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break:


Will it consume me? let me see it, then.


Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.


Hath made thee handless in thy fathers sight?


Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?


My grief was at the height before thou camest,


And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.


Give me a sword, Ill chop off my hands too;


For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;


And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life;


In bootless prayer have they been held up,


And they have served me to effectless use:


Is that the one will help to cut the other.


Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;


For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.


Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyrd thee?


O, that delightful engine of her thoughts


That blabbd them with such pleasing eloquence,


Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,


Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung


Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!


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


O, thus I found her, straying in the park,


Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer


That hath received some unrecuring wound.


Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:


Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,


This way to death my wretched sons are gone;


Here stands my other son, a banished man,


And here my brother, weeping at my woes.


But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,


Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,


It would have madded me: what shall I do


Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:


Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyrd thee:


Thy husband he is dead: and for his death


Thy brothers are condemnd, and dead by this.


Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!


When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears


Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew


Perchance she weeps because they killd her husband;


Perchance because she knows them innocent.


If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful


Because the law hath taen revenge on them.


No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;


Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.


Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:


Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,


And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain,


Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks


How they are staind, as meadows, yet not dry,


With miry slime left on them by a flood?


And in the fountain shall we gaze so long


Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,


And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?


Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?


Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows


What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,


Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief,


See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.


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


For thou, poor man, hast drownd it with thine own.


Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:


Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say


That to her brother which I said to thee:


His napkin, with his true tears all bewet,


Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.


As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!


Sends thee this word,--that, if thou love thy sons,


Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,


And send it to the king: he for the same


Will send thee hither both thy sons alive;


And that shall be the ransom for their fault.


That gives sweet tidings of the suns uprise?


With all my heart, Ill send the emperor My hand:


Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?


Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine,


Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:


My youth can better spare my blood than you;


And therefore mine shall save my brothers lives.


Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,


Writing destruction on the enemys castle?


My hand hath been but idle; let it serve


To ransom my two nephews from their death;


Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,


For fear they die before their pardon come.


Sirs, strive no more: such witherd herbs as these


Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.


Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,


Let me redeem my brothers both from death.


And, for our fathers sake and mothers care,


Now let me show a brothers love to thee.


Agree between you; I will spare my hand.


Come hither, Aaron; Ill deceive them both:


Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.


[Aside]  If that be calld deceit, I will be honest,


And never, whilst I live, deceive men so:


And that youll say, ere half an hour pass.


Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatchd.


And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.


Look by and by to have thy sons with thee.


Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany


Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it!


Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace.


Aaron will have his soul black like his face.


O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,


Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;


Or with our sighs well breathe the welkin 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.


Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?


Then be my passions bottomless with them.


If there were reason for these miseries,


When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth oerflow?


If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,


Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face?


And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?


I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!


Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;


Then must my earth with her continual tears


Then give me leave, for losers will have leave


To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.


Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand


For that good hand thou sentst the emperor.


Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;


And heres thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;


Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mockd;


More than remembrance of my fathers death.


These miseries are more than may be borne.


To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;


Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound,


And yet detested life not shrink thereat!


That ever death should let life bear his name,


Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!


Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless


When will this fearful slumber have an end?


Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;


Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons heads,


Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:


Thy other banishd son, with this dear sight


Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,


Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:


Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand


Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight


The closing up of our most wretched eyes;


Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?


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


And make them blind with tributary tears:


Then which way shall I find Revenges cave?


For these two heads do seem to speak to me,


And threat me I shall never come to bliss


Till all these mischiefs be returnd again


Even in their throats that have committed them.


Come, let me see what task I have to do.


And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.


The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head;


Lavinia, thou shalt be employd: these arms!


Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.


As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;


Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:


Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:


Lets kiss and part, for we have much to do.


The wofullst man that ever lived in Rome:


Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,


He leaves his pledges dearer than his life:


O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been!


If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;


And make proud Saturnine and his empress


Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.


Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,


SCENE II. A room in Tituss house. A banquet set out.


Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA and Young LUCIUS, a boy


So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more


Than will preserve just so much strength in us


As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.


Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:


Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,


With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine


Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,


Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,


Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!


When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,


Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.


Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;


Or get some little knife between thy teeth,


And just against thy heart make thou a hole;


That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall


Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.


Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay


Such violent hands upon her tender life.


How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?


Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.


What violent hands can she lay on her life?


Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;


How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?


O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,


Lest we remember still that we have none.


Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,


If Marcus did not name the word of hands!


Come, lets fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:


Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says;


She says she drinks no other drink but tears,


Brewd with her sorrow, meshd upon her cheeks:


Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;


As begging hermits in their holy prayers:


Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,


Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,


And by still practise learn to know thy meaning.


Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:


Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.


Doth weep to see his grandsires heaviness.


Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,


And tears will quickly melt thy life away.


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


At that that I have killd, my lord; a fly.


Out on thee, murderer! thou killst my heart;


Mine eyes are cloyd with view of tyranny:


Becomes not Titus brother: get thee gone:


But how, if that fly had a father and mother?


How would he hang his slender gilded wings,


Came here to make us merry! and thou hast


Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favord fly,


Like to the empress Moor; therefore I killd him.


Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;


Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor


Theres for thyself, and thats for Tamora.


Yet, I think, we are not brought so low,


That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.


Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,


He takes false shadows for true substances.


Ill to thy closet; and go read with thee


Sad stories chanced in the times of old.


Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,


And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.


Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him,  and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS


Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.


Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.


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


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


What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?


Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean:


See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:


Somewhither would she have thee go with her.


Read to her sons than she hath read to thee


Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?


My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,


Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:


For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,


Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;


And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:


Which made me down to throw my books, and fly--


Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:


I will most willingly attend your ladyship.


LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which LUCIUS has let fall


How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this?


Some book there is that she desires to see.


Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.


But thou art deeper read, and better skilld


Come, and take choice of all my library,


And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens


Reveal the damnd contriver of this deed.


Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?


I think she means that there was more than one


Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;


Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.


Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?


Perhaps she culld it from among the rest.


Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!


What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?


And treats of Tereus treason and his rape:


And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.


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


Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,


Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see!


Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt--


Patternd by that the poet here describes,


By nature made for murders and for rapes.


O, why should nature build so foul a den,


Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none


What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:


Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,


That left the camp to sin in Lucrece bed?


Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me.


Inspire me, that I may this treason find!


This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst


He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with feet and mouth


Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!


Write thou good niece; and here display, at last,


What God will have discoverd for revenge;


Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,


That we may know the traitors and the truth!


She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes


O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?


Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?


Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?


O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know


To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts


And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.


My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;


And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hectors hope;


And swear with me, as, with the woful fere


And father of that chaste dishonourd dame,


Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece rape,


Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,


And see their blood, or die with this reproach.


But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:


The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,


Shes with the lion deeply still in league,


And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,


And when he sleeps will she do what she list.


You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;


And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,


And with a gad of steel will write these words,


Will blow these sands, like Sibyls leaves, abroad,


And wheres your lesson, then? Boy, what say you?


Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe


For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.


Ay, thats my boy! thy father hath full oft


For his ungrateful country done the like.


Lucius, Ill fit thee; and withal, my boy,


Presents that I intend to send them both:


Come, come; thoult do thy message, wilt thou not?


Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.


No, boy, not so; Ill teach thee another course.


Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house:


Lucius and Ill go brave it at the court:


Ay, marry, will we, sir; and well be waited on.


O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,


That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart


Than foemens marks upon his batterd shield;


But yet so just that he will not revenge.


Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus!


SCENE II. The same. A room in the palace.


Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and  CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an  Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them


Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.


My lords, with all the humbleness I may,


And pray the Roman gods confound you both!


Gramercy, lovely Lucius: whats the news?


[Aside]  That you are both decipherd, thats the news,


For villains markd with rape.--May it please you,


My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me


The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;


Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,


Whats here? A scroll; and written round about?


O, tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:


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


Heres no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;


And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,


That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.


And now, young lords, wast not a happy star


Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,


Captives, to be advanced to this height?


To brave the tribune in his brothers hearing.


But me more good, to see so great a lord


Did you not use his daughter very friendly?


At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.


Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.


And that would she for twenty thousand more.


Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods


[Aside]  Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.


Why do the emperors trumpets flourish thus?


Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms


Well, more or less, or neer a whit at all,


Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!


What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?


O, that which I would hide from heavens eye,


Our empress shame, and stately Romes disgrace!


She is deliverd, lords; she is deliverd.


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


Why, then she is the devils dam; a joyful issue.


A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:


Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad


Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime:


The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,


And bids thee christen it with thy daggers point.


Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue?


Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.


And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone.


Woe to her chance, and damnd her loathed choice!


Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend!


What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I


Ill broach the tadpole on my rapiers point:


Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it.


Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.


Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws


Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother?


That shone so brightly when this boy was got,


That touches this my first-born son and heir!


With all his threatening band of Typhons brood,


Shall seize this prey out of his fathers hands.


What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys!


Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs!


Can never turn the swans black legs to white,


Although she lave them hourly in the flood.


To keep mine own, excuse it how she can.


Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?


My mistress is my mistress; this myself,


This maugre all the world will I keep safe,


Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.


Rome will despise her for this foul escape.


The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death.


Why, theres the privilege your beauty bears:


Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing


The close enacts and counsels of the heart!


Heres a young lad framed of another leer:


Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father,


As who should say Old lad, I am thine own.


Of that self-blood that first gave life to you,


And from that womb where you imprisond were


Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,


Although my seal be stamped in his face.


Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?


And we will all subscribe to thy advice:


Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.


Then sit we down, and let us all consult.


Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety.


Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league,


The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.


And no one else but the deliverd empress.


Two may keep counsel when the thirds away:


Go to the empress, tell her this I said.


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


What meanst thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this?


Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours,


A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no:


And now be it known to you my full intent.


His wife but yesternight was brought to bed;


His child is like to her, fair as you are:


Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,


And tell them both the circumstance of all;


And how by this their child shall be advanced,


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,


The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:


This done, see that you take no longer days,


The midwife and the nurse well made away,


Then let the ladies tattle what they please.


Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air


Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.


Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the Nurses body


Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies;


There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,


And secretly to greet the empress friends.


Come on, you thick lippd slave, Ill bear you hence;


For it is you that puts us to our shifts:


Ill make you feed on berries and on roots,


And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,


Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters at the  ends of them; with him, MARCUS, Young LUCIUS,  PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, CAIUS, and other Gentlemen, with bows


Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way.


Look ye draw home enough, and tis there straight.


Be you rememberd, Marcus, shes gone, shes fled.


Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall


Yet theres as little justice as at land:


No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;


Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,


And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:


Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,


Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable


Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,


And leave you not a man-of-war unsearchd:


This wicked emperor may have shippd her hence;


And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.


Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns


By day and night to attend him carefully,


Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war


Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,


No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,


If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:


He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,


So that perforce you must needs stay a time.


He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.


And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.


No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops size;


But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,


Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:


And, sith theres no justice in earth nor hell,


We will solicit heaven and move the gods


To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.


Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;


Ad Jovem, thats for you: here, Ad Apollinem:


You were as good to shoot against the wind.


Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:


We will afflict the emperor in his pride.


Good boy, in Virgos lap; give it Pallas.


See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus horns.


This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,


The Bull, being galld, gave Aries such a knock


That down fell both the Rams horns in the court;


And who should find them but the empress villain?


She laughd, and told the Moor he should not choose


But give them to his master for a present.


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


Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it


News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.


Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?


Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?


O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken


them down again, for the man must not be hanged till


Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him


From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there     God


forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my


young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the


tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl


betwixt my uncle and one of the emperials men.


Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for


your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to


Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor


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


By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.


Hold, hold; meanwhile heres money for thy charges.


Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace


Then here is a supplication for you. And when you


come to him, at the first approach you must kneel,


then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and


then look for your reward. Ill be at hand, sir; see


Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it.


For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.


And when thou hast given it the emperor,


Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.


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


Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON,  Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot


Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen


Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent


My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,


Buz in the peoples ears, there nought hath passd,


But even with law, against the willful sons


His sorrows have so overwhelmd his wits,


Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,


His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?


And now he writes to heaven for his redress:


See, heres to Jove, and this to Mercury;


Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!


Whats this but libelling against the senate,


And blazoning our injustice every where?


As who would say, in Rome no justice were.


But he and his shall know that justice lives


In Saturninus health, whom, if she sleep,


Cut off the proudst conspirator that lives.


Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,


Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus age,


The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,


Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarrd his heart;


And rather comfort his distressed plight


But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick,


Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,


Then is all safe, the anchors in the port.


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


Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.


Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.


Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den:


I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.


Go, take him away, and hang him presently.


Hanged! byr lady, then I have brought up a neck to


I know from whence this same device proceeds:


May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons,


That died by law for murder of our brother,


Have by my means been butcherd wrongfully!


Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;


Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege:


For this proud mock Ill be thy slaughterman;


Sly frantic wretch, that holpst to make me great,


In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.


Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause.


The Goths have gatherd head; and with a power


Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do


These tidings nip me, and I hang the head


As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms:


And they have wishd that Lucius were their emperor.


Why should you fear? is not your city strong?


King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.


Is the sun dimmd, that gnats do fly in it?


And is not careful what they mean thereby,


Knowing that with the shadow of his wings


Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.


Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor,


With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,


Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep,


When as the one is wounded with the bait,


With golden promises; that, were his heart


Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.


Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting


Even at his fathers house, the old Andronicus.


And if he stand on hostage for his safety,


Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.


To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.


And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,


Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours


Approved warriors, and my faithful friends,


I have received letters from great Rome,


Which signify what hate they bear their emperor


Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness,


And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,


Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,


Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;


Whose high exploits and honourable deeds


Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,


Be bold in us: well follow where thou leadst,


Like stinging bees in hottest summers day


Led by their master to the flowered fields,


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


I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.


But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?


Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms


Renowned Lucius, from our troops I strayd


I made unto the noise; when soon I heard


The crying babe controlld with this discourse:


Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam!


Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,


Had nature lent thee but thy mothers look,


Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor:


But where the bull and cow are both milk-white,


Peace, villain, peace!--even thus he rates


Who, when he knows thou art the empress babe,


Will hold thee dearly for thy mothers sake.


With this, my weapon drawn, I rushd upon him,


Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither,


O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil


This is the pearl that pleased your empress eye,


And heres the base fruit of his burning lust.


Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey


This growing image of thy fiend-like face?


Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word?


A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree.


Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood.


First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl;


A ladder brought, which AARON is made to ascend


If thou do this, Ill show thee wondrous things,


If thou wilt not, befall what may befall,


Ill speak no more but Vengeance rot you all!


Say on: an if it please me which thou speakst


Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourishd.


An if it please thee! why, assure thee, Lucius,


Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak;


For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres,


Complots of mischief, treason, villanies


Ruthful to hear, yet piteously performd:


And this shall all be buried by my death,


Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.


Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live.


Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.


Who should I swear by? thou believest no god:


That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?


And hast a thing within thee called conscience,


With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies,


Which I have seen thee careful to observe,


Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know


And keeps the oath which by that god he swears,


To that Ill urge him: therefore thou shalt vow


That thou adorest and hast in reverence,


To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up;


First know thou, I begot him on the empress.


Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity


To that which thou shalt hear of me anon.


Twas her two sons that murderd Bassianus;


They cut thy sisters tongue and ravishd her


And cut her hands and trimmd her as thou sawst.


O detestable villain! callst thou that trimming?


Why, she was washd and cut and trimmd, and twas


Trim sport for them that had the doing of it.


O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself!


Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them:


That codding spirit had they from their mother,


That bloody mind, I think, they learnd of me,


Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.


I traind thy brethren to that guileful hole


I wrote the letter that thy father found


And hid the gold within the letter mentiond,


Confederate with the queen and her two sons:


And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue,


Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it?


I playd the cheater for thy fathers hand,


And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter:


When, for his hand, he had his two sons heads;


Beheld his tears, and laughd so heartily,


That both mine eyes were rainy like to his :


And when I told the empress of this sport,


And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses.


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


Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?


Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.


Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think,


Few come within the compass of my curse,--


As kill a man, or else devise his death,


Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,


Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,


Make poor mens cattle break their necks;


Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,


And bid the owners quench them with their tears.


Oft have I diggd up dead men from their graves,


And set them upright at their dear friends doors,


Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;


And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,


Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,


Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.


Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things


Bring down the devil; for he must not die


If there be devils, would I were a devil,


But to torment you with my bitter tongue!


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


Desires to be admitted to your presence.


Welcome, AEmiliuswhats the news from Rome?


Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths,


And, for he understands you are in arms,


He craves a parley at your fathers house,


AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges


Enter TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, disguised


Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment,


To join with him and right his heinous wrongs.


Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps,


To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge;


Tell him Revenge is come to join with him,


Is it your trick to make me ope the door,


See here in bloody lines I have set down;


No, not a word; how can I grace my talk,


Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more.


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


Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines;


Witness these trenches made by grief and care,


Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well


I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom,


To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind,


By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.


Come down, and welcome me to this worlds light;


Theres not a hollow cave or lurking-place,


Can couch for fear, but I will find them out;


And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,


Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.


Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me,


I am; therefore come down, and welcome me.


Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands;


Now give me some surance that thou art Revenge,


Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels;


And whirl along with thee about the globe.


Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet,


And find out murderers in their guilty caves:


And when thy car is loaden with their heads,


I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel


Trot, like a servile footman, all day long,


So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.


These are my ministers, and come with me.


Are these thy ministers? what are they calld?


Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.


Good Lord, how like the empress sons they are!


And you, the empress! but we worldly men


And, if one arms embracement will content thee,


Whateer I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,


Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches,


And, being credulous in this mad thought,


And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,


Ill find some cunning practise out of hand,


To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths,


Or, at the least, make them his enemies.


See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.


Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:


How like the empress and her sons you are!


Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor:


Could not all hell afford you such a devil?


And, would you represent our queen aright,


It were convenient you had such a devil:


But welcome, as you are. What shall we do?


What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?


Show me a villain that hath done a rape,


Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong,


Look round about the wicked streets of Rome;


And when thou findst a man thats like thyself.


Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap


Go thou with them; and in the emperors court


Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion,


I pray thee, do on them some violent death;


Well hast thou lessond us; this shall we do.


But would it please thee, good Andronicus,


To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son,


Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths,


And bid him come and banquet at thy house;


When he is here, even at thy solemn feast,


I will bring in the empress and her sons,


And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel,


And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.


Marcus, my brother! tis sad Titus calls.


Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;


Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths:


Bid him repair to me, and bring with him


Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;


Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:


Tell him the emperor and the empress too


Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them.


This do thou for my love; and so let him,


Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me;


[Aside to her sons]  What say you, boys? will you


Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,


[Aside]  I know them all, though they suppose me mad,


And will oerreach them in their own devices:


A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam!


Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here.


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


Tell us, old man, how shall we be employd?


Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine!


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


Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived;


The one is Murder, Rape is the others name;


And therefore bind them, gentle Publius.


Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,


And now I find it; therefore bind them sure,


And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.


PUBLIUS,  and c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS


Villains, forbear! we are the empress sons.


And therefore do we what we are commanded.


Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word.


Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast.


Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife, and she a basin


Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound.


Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me;


But let them hear what fearful words I utter.


Here stands the spring whom you have staind with mud,


This goodly summer with your winter mixd.


You killd her husband, and for that vile fault


Two of her brothers were condemnd to death,


Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear


Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,


Inhuman traitors, you constraind and forced.


What would you say, if I should let you speak?


Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.


Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you.


This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,


Whilst that Lavinia tween her stumps doth hold


The basin that receives your guilty blood.


You know your mother means to feast with me,


And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad:


Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust


And with your blood and it Ill make a paste,


And make two pasties of your shameful heads,


And bid that strumpet, your unhallowd dam,


Like to the earth swallow her own increase.


This is the feast that I have bid her to,


And this the banquet she shall surfeit on;


For worse than Philomel you used my daughter,


And worse than Progne I will be revenged:


And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come,


Receive the blood: and when that they are dead,


Let me go grind their bones to powder small


And in that paste let their vile heads be baked.


To make this banquet; which I wish may prove


More stern and bloody than the Centaurs feast.


So, now bring them in, for Ill play the cook,


And see them ready gainst their mother comes.


SCENE III. Court of TITUSs house. A banquet set out.


Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON prisoner


Uncle Marcus, since it is my fathers mind


And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.


Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,


This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;


Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him


Till he be brought unto the empress face,


And see the ambush of our friends be strong;


And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth


The venomous malice of my swelling heart!


Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within


The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.


Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, Tribunes, Senators, and others


What, hath the firmament more suns than one?


What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?


Romes emperor, and nephew, break the parle;


The feast is ready, which the careful Titus


For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:


Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.


Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table


Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled,  Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes on the table


Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen;


Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius;


And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor,


Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.


Because I would be sure to have all well,


To entertain your highness and your empress.


We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.


An if your highness knew my heart, you were.


To slay his daughter with his own right hand,


Because she was enforced, staind, and deflowerd?