It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Shakespeare texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
square bracket
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
angle bracket
soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Shakespeare texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
Titus Andronicus
overflows with death and violence. Twenty-one sons of the Roman general Titus Andronicus have died in battle, leaving four alive. After defeating the Goths, Titus permits the sacrifice of the oldest son of their queen, Tamora.
Titus helps Saturninus become emperor. Saturninus plans to marry Titus’s daughter, Lavinia. Instead, she marries Bassianus, aided by Titus’s sons, one of whom Titus kills. Saturninus then marries Tamora. The stage is set for multiple revenge plots.
Tamora’s lover, Aaron the Moor, instructs her two sons to kill Bassianus, then falsely implicates two of Titus’s sons. Tamora’s sons also rape Lavinia, cutting off her tongue and hands. To save his sons from execution, Titus cuts off his own hand, but Aaron sends him their heads.
Lucius, Titus’s last son, leads an army of Goths against Rome. Titus kills Tamora’s sons and serves them to her in a pie. In the ensuing events, Lavinia, Tamora, Titus, and Saturninus all die. Lucius becomes emperor and sentences Aaron to death.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Flourish
.
Enter
the
Tribunes
(
including
Marcus
Andronicus
)
and
Senators
aloft
.
And
then
enter
,
below
,
Saturninus
and
his
followers
at
one
door
,
and
Bassianus
and
his
followers
at
another
door
,
with
other
Romans
,
Drums
,
and
Trumpets
.
Noble
patricians
,
patrons
of
my
right
,
Defend
the
justice
of
my
cause
with
arms
.
And
countrymen
,
my
loving
followers
,
Plead
my
successive
title
with
your
swords
.
I
am
his
firstborn
son
that
was
the
last
That
wore
the
imperial
diadem
of
Rome
.
Then
let
my
father’s
honors
live
in
me
,
Nor
wrong
mine
age
with
this
indignity
.
Romans
,
friends
,
followers
,
favorers
of
my
right
,
If
ever
Bassianus
,
Caesar’s
son
,
Were
gracious
in
the
eyes
of
royal
Rome
,
Keep
,
then
,
this
passage
to
the
Capitol
,
And
suffer
not
dishonor
to
approach
The
imperial
seat
,
to
virtue
consecrate
,
To
justice
,
continence
,
and
nobility
;
But
let
desert
in
pure
election
shine
,
And
,
Romans
,
fight
for
freedom
in
your
choice
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
(
aloft
,
stepping
forward
and
holding
up
the
crown
)
Princes
that
strive
by
factions
and
by
friends
Ambitiously
for
rule
and
empery
,
Know
that
the
people
of
Rome
,
for
whom
we
stand
A
special
party
,
have
by
common
voice
,
In
election
for
the
Roman
empery
,
Chosen
Andronicus
,
surnamèd
Pius
For
many
good
and
great
deserts
to
Rome
.
A
nobler
man
,
a
braver
warrior
,
Lives
not
this
day
within
the
city
walls
.
He
by
the
Senate
is
accited
home
From
weary
wars
against
the
barbarous
Goths
,
That
with
his
sons
,
a
terror
to
our
foes
,
Hath
yoked
a
nation
strong
,
trained
up
in
arms
.
Ten
years
are
spent
since
first
he
undertook
This
cause
of
Rome
,
and
chastisèd
with
arms
Our
enemies’
pride
.
Five
times
he
hath
returned
Bleeding
to
Rome
,
bearing
his
valiant
sons
In
coffins
from
the
field
.
And
now
at
last
,
laden
with
honor’s
spoils
,
Returns
the
good
Andronicus
to
Rome
,
Renownèd
Titus
flourishing
in
arms
.
Let
us
entreat
,
by
honor
of
his
name
Whom
worthily
you
would
have
now
succeed
,
And
in
the
Capitol
and
Senate’s
right
,
Whom
you
pretend
to
honor
and
adore
,
That
you
withdraw
you
and
abate
your
strength
,
Dismiss
your
followers
and
,
as
suitors
should
,
Plead
your
deserts
in
peace
and
humbleness
.
How
fair
the
tribune
speaks
to
calm
my
thoughts
!
Marcus
Andronicus
,
so
I
do
affy
In
thy
uprightness
and
integrity
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
so
I
love
and
honor
thee
and
thine
,
Thy
noble
brother
Titus
and
his
sons
,
And
her
to
whom
my
thoughts
are
humbled
all
,
Gracious
Lavinia
,
Rome’s
rich
ornament
,
That
I
will
here
dismiss
my
loving
friends
,
And
to
my
fortunes
and
the
people’s
favor
Commit
my
cause
in
balance
to
be
weighed
.
Bassianus’
Soldiers
exit
.
Friends
that
have
been
thus
forward
in
my
right
,
I
thank
you
all
and
here
dismiss
you
all
,
And
to
the
love
and
favor
of
my
country
Commit
myself
,
my
person
,
and
the
cause
.
Saturninus’
Soldiers
exit
.
Rome
,
be
as
just
and
gracious
unto
me
As
I
am
confident
and
kind
to
thee
.
Open
the
gates
and
let
me
in
.
Tribunes
,
and
me
,
a
poor
competitor
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
to
go
up
into
the
Senate
House
.
The
Tribunes
and
Senators
exit
from
the
upper
stage
.
Enter
a
Captain
.
Romans
,
make
way
!
The
good
Andronicus
,
Patron
of
virtue
,
Rome’s
best
champion
,
Successful
in
the
battles
that
he
fights
,
With
honor
and
with
fortune
is
returned
From
where
he
circumscribèd
with
his
sword
And
brought
to
yoke
the
enemies
of
Rome
.
Sound
drums
and
trumpets
,
and
then
enter
two
of
Titus’
sons
(
Lucius
and
Mutius
)
and
then
two
men
bearing
a
coffin
covered
with
black
,
then
two
other
sons
(
Martius
and
Quintus
)
,
then
Titus
Andronicus
,
and
then
Tamora
the
Queen
of
Goths
and
her
sons
Alarbus
,
Chiron
and
ACT 1. SC. 1
Demetrius
,
with
Aaron
the
Moor
,
and
others
as
many
as
can
be
,
then
set
down
the
coffin
,
and
Titus
speaks
.
Hail
Rome
,
victorious
in
thy
mourning
weeds
!
Lo
,
as
the
bark
that
hath
discharged
his
fraught
Returns
with
precious
lading
to
the
bay
From
whence
at
first
she
weighed
her
anchorage
,
Cometh
Andronicus
,
bound
with
laurel
boughs
,
To
resalute
his
country
with
his
tears
,
Tears
of
true
joy
for
his
return
to
Rome
.
Thou
great
defender
of
this
Capitol
,
Stand
gracious
to
the
rites
that
we
intend
.
Romans
,
of
five-and-twenty
valiant
sons
,
Half
of
the
number
that
King
Priam
had
,
Behold
the
poor
remains
alive
and
dead
.
These
that
survive
let
Rome
reward
with
love
;
These
that
I
bring
unto
their
latest
home
,
With
burial
amongst
their
ancestors
.
Here
Goths
have
given
me
leave
to
sheathe
my
sword
.
Titus
,
unkind
and
careless
of
thine
own
,
Why
suffer’st
thou
thy
sons
unburied
yet
To
hover
on
the
dreadful
shore
of
Styx
?
Make
way
to
lay
them
by
their
brethren
.
They
open
the
tomb
.
There
greet
in
silence
,
as
the
dead
are
wont
,
And
sleep
in
peace
,
slain
in
your
country’s
wars
.
O
sacred
receptacle
of
my
joys
,
Sweet
cell
of
virtue
and
nobility
,
How
many
sons
hast
thou
of
mine
in
store
That
thou
wilt
never
render
to
me
more
?
Give
us
the
proudest
prisoner
of
the
Goths
,
That
we
may
hew
his
limbs
and
on
a
pile
,
Ad
manes
fratrum
,
sacrifice
his
flesh
Before
this
earthy
prison
of
their
bones
,
That
so
the
shadows
be
not
unappeased
,
Nor
we
disturbed
with
prodigies
on
Earth
earth
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
I
give
him
you
,
the
noblest
that
survives
,
The
eldest
son
of
this
distressèd
queen
.
Stay
,
Roman
brethren
!
—
Gracious
conqueror
,
Victorious
Titus
,
rue
the
tears
I
shed
,
A
mother’s
tears
in
passion
for
her
son
.
And
if
thy
sons
were
ever
dear
to
thee
,
O
think
my
son
to
be
as
dear
to
me
.
Sufficeth
not
that
we
are
brought
to
Rome
To
beautify
thy
triumphs
and
return
Captive
to
thee
and
to
thy
Roman
yoke
,
But
must
my
sons
be
slaughtered
in
the
streets
For
valiant
doings
in
their
country’s
cause
?
O
,
if
to
fight
for
king
and
commonweal
Were
piety
in
thine
,
it
is
in
these
!
She
kneels
.
Andronicus
,
stain
not
thy
tomb
with
blood
.
Wilt
thou
draw
near
the
nature
of
the
gods
?
Draw
near
them
then
in
being
merciful
.
Sweet
mercy
is
nobility’s
true
badge
.
Thrice-noble
Titus
,
spare
my
first-born
son
.
Patient
yourself
,
madam
,
and
pardon
me
.
These
are
their
brethren
whom
your
Goths
beheld
Alive
and
dead
,
and
for
their
brethren
slain
Religiously
they
ask
a
sacrifice
.
To
this
your
son
is
marked
,
and
die
he
must
,
T’
appease
their
groaning
shadows
that
are
gone
.
Away
with
him
,
and
make
a
fire
straight
,
And
with
our
swords
upon
a
pile
of
wood
Let’s
hew
his
limbs
till
they
be
clean
consumed
.
Exit
Titus’
sons
with
Alarbus
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
rising
and
speaking
aside
to
her
sons
O
cruel
,
irreligious
piety
!
,
aside
to
Tamora
and
Demetrius
Was
never
Scythia
half
so
barbarous
!
,
aside
to
Tamora
and
Chiron
Oppose
not
Scythia
to
ambitious
Rome
!
Alarbus
goes
to
rest
and
we
survive
To
tremble
under
Titus’
threat’ning
look
.
Then
,
madam
,
stand
resolved
,
but
hope
withal
The
selfsame
gods
that
armed
the
Queen
of
Troy
With
opportunity
of
sharp
revenge
Upon
the
Thracian
tyrant
in
his
tent
May
favor
Tamora
the
Queen
of
Goths
(
When
Goths
were
Goths
,
and
Tamora
was
queen
)
To
quit
the
bloody
wrongs
upon
her
foes
.
Enter
the
sons
of
Andronicus
again
with
bloody
swords
.
See
,
lord
and
father
,
how
we
have
performed
Our
Roman
rites
.
Alarbus’
limbs
are
lopped
,
And
entrails
feed
the
sacrificing
fire
,
Whose
smoke
like
incense
doth
perfume
the
sky
.
Remaineth
naught
but
to
inter
our
brethren
,
And
with
loud
larums
welcome
them
to
Rome
.
Let
it
be
so
.
And
let
Andronicus
Make
this
his
latest
farewell
to
their
souls
.
Sound
trumpets
,
and
lay
the
coffin
in
the
tomb
.
In
peace
and
honor
rest
you
here
,
my
sons
,
Rome’s
readiest
champions
,
repose
you
here
in
rest
,
Secure
from
worldly
chances
and
mishaps
.
Here
lurks
no
treason
,
here
no
envy
swells
,
Here
grow
no
damnèd
drugs
;
here
are
no
storms
,
No
noise
,
but
silence
and
eternal
sleep
.
In
peace
and
honor
rest
you
here
,
my
sons
.
Enter
Lavinia
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
In
peace
and
honor
live
Lord
Titus
long
;
My
noble
lord
and
father
,
live
in
fame
.
She
kneels
.
Lo
,
at
this
tomb
my
tributary
tears
I
render
for
my
brethren’s
obsequies
,
And
at
thy
feet
I
kneel
,
with
tears
of
joy
Shed
on
this
earth
for
thy
return
to
Rome
.
O
bless
me
here
with
thy
victorious
hand
,
Whose
fortunes
Rome’s
best
citizens
applaud
.
Kind
Rome
,
that
hast
thus
lovingly
reserved
The
cordial
of
mine
age
to
glad
my
heart
!
—
Lavinia
,
live
,
outlive
thy
father’s
days
And
fame’s
eternal
date
,
for
virtue’s
praise
.
Lavinia
rises
.
Enter
Marcus
Andronicus
,
carrying
a
white
robe
.
Enter
aloft
Saturninus
,
Bassianus
,
Tribunes
,
Senators
,
and
Guards
.
Long
live
Lord
Titus
,
my
belovèd
brother
,
Gracious
triumpher
in
the
eyes
of
Rome
.
Thanks
,
gentle
tribune
,
noble
brother
Marcus
.
And
welcome
,
nephews
,
from
successful
wars
—
You
that
survive
,
and
you
that
sleep
in
fame
.
Fair
lords
,
your
fortunes
are
alike
in
all
,
That
in
your
country’s
service
drew
your
swords
;
But
safer
triumph
is
this
funeral
pomp
,
That
hath
aspired
to
Solon’s
happiness
,
And
triumphs
over
chance
in
honor’s
bed
.
—
Titus
Andronicus
,
the
people
of
Rome
,
Whose
friend
in
justice
thou
hast
ever
been
,
Send
thee
by
me
,
their
tribune
and
their
trust
,
This
palliament
of
white
and
spotless
hue
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
name
thee
in
election
for
the
empire
With
these
our
late
deceasèd
emperor’s
sons
.
Be
candidatus
,
then
,
and
put
it
on
And
help
to
set
a
head
on
headless
Rome
.
A
better
head
her
glorious
body
fits
Than
his
that
shakes
for
age
and
feebleness
.
To
Tribunes
and
Senators
aloft
.
What
,
should
I
don
this
robe
and
trouble
you
?
Be
chosen
with
proclamations
today
,
Tomorrow
yield
up
rule
,
resign
my
life
,
And
set
abroad
new
business
for
you
all
?
Rome
,
I
have
been
thy
soldier
forty
years
,
And
led
my
country’s
strength
successfully
,
And
buried
one
and
twenty
valiant
sons
,
Knighted
in
field
,
slain
manfully
in
arms
,
In
right
and
service
of
their
noble
country
.
Give
me
a
staff
of
honor
for
mine
age
,
But
not
a
scepter
to
control
the
world
.
Upright
he
held
it
,
lords
,
that
held
it
last
.
Titus
,
thou
shalt
obtain
and
ask
the
empery
.
Proud
and
ambitious
tribune
,
canst
thou
tell
?
Patience
,
Prince
Saturninus
.
Romans
,
do
me
right
.
Patricians
,
draw
your
swords
and
sheathe
them
not
Till
Saturninus
be
Rome’s
emperor
.
—
Andronicus
,
would
thou
were
shipped
to
hell
Rather
than
rob
me
of
the
people’s
hearts
.
Proud
Saturnine
,
interrupter
of
the
good
That
noble-minded
Titus
means
to
thee
.
Content
thee
,
prince
.
I
will
restore
to
thee
The
people’s
hearts
and
wean
them
from
themselves
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Andronicus
,
I
do
not
flatter
thee
,
But
honor
thee
,
and
will
do
till
I
die
.
My
faction
if
thou
strengthen
with
thy
friends
,
I
will
most
thankful
be
,
and
thanks
,
to
men
Of
noble
minds
,
is
honorable
meed
.
People
of
Rome
,
and
people’s
tribunes
here
,
I
ask
your
voices
and
your
suffrages
.
Will
you
bestow
them
friendly
on
Andronicus
?
To
gratify
the
good
Andronicus
And
gratulate
his
safe
return
to
Rome
,
The
people
will
accept
whom
he
admits
.
Tribunes
,
I
thank
you
,
and
this
suit
I
make
:
That
you
create
our
emperor’s
eldest
son
,
Lord
Saturnine
,
whose
virtues
will
,
I
hope
,
Reflect
on
Rome
as
Titan’s
rays
on
Earth
earth
And
ripen
justice
in
this
commonweal
.
Then
,
if
you
will
elect
by
my
advice
,
Crown
him
and
say
Long
live
our
emperor
.
With
voices
and
applause
of
every
sort
,
Patricians
and
plebeians
,
we
create
Lord
Saturninus
Rome’s
great
emperor
,
And
say
Long
live
our
Emperor
Saturnine
.
A
long
flourish
till
Saturninus
,
Bassianus
,
and
Guards
come
down
.
Titus
Andronicus
,
for
thy
favors
done
To
us
in
our
election
this
day
,
I
give
thee
thanks
in
part
of
thy
deserts
,
And
will
with
deeds
requite
thy
gentleness
.
And
for
an
onset
,
Titus
,
to
advance
ACT 1. SC. 1
Thy
name
and
honorable
family
,
Lavinia
will
I
make
my
empress
,
Rome’s
royal
mistress
,
mistress
of
my
heart
,
And
in
the
sacred
Pantheon
her
espouse
.
Tell
me
,
Andronicus
,
doth
this
motion
please
thee
?
It
doth
,
my
worthy
lord
,
and
in
this
match
I
hold
me
highly
honored
of
your
Grace
;
And
here
in
sight
of
Rome
to
Saturnine
,
King
and
commander
of
our
commonweal
,
The
wide
world’s
emperor
,
do
I
consecrate
My
sword
,
my
chariot
,
and
my
prisoners
,
Presents
well
worthy
Rome’s
imperious
lord
.
Receive
them
,
then
,
the
tribute
that
I
owe
,
Mine
honor’s
ensigns
humbled
at
thy
feet
.
Thanks
,
noble
Titus
,
father
of
my
life
.
How
proud
I
am
of
thee
and
of
thy
gifts
Rome
shall
record
.
—
And
when
I
do
forget
The
least
of
these
unspeakable
deserts
,
Romans
,
forget
your
fealty
to
me
.
,
to
Tamora
Now
,
madam
,
are
you
prisoner
to
an
emperor
,
To
him
that
for
your
honor
and
your
state
Will
use
you
nobly
,
and
your
followers
.
,
aside
A
goodly
lady
,
trust
me
,
of
the
hue
That
I
would
choose
,
were
I
to
choose
anew
.
—
Clear
up
,
fair
queen
,
that
cloudy
countenance
.
Though
chance
of
war
hath
wrought
this
change
of
cheer
,
Thou
com’st
not
to
be
made
a
scorn
in
Rome
.
Princely
shall
be
thy
usage
every
way
.
Rest
on
my
word
,
and
let
not
discontent
Daunt
all
your
hopes
.
Madam
,
he
comforts
you
Can
make
you
greater
than
the
Queen
of
Goths
.
—
Lavinia
,
you
are
not
displeased
with
this
?
ACT 1. SC. 1
Not
I
,
my
lord
,
sith
true
nobility
Warrants
these
words
in
princely
courtesy
.
Thanks
,
sweet
Lavinia
.
—
Romans
,
let
us
go
.
Ransomless
here
we
set
our
prisoners
free
.
Proclaim
our
honors
,
lords
,
with
trump
and
drum
.
Flourish
.
Saturninus
and
his
Guards
exit
,
with
Drums
and
Trumpets
.
Tribunes
and
Senators
exit
aloft
.
Lord
Titus
,
by
your
leave
,
this
maid
is
mine
.
How
,
sir
?
Are
you
in
earnest
then
,
my
lord
?
Ay
,
noble
Titus
,
and
resolved
withal
To
do
myself
this
reason
and
this
right
.
Bassianus
takes
Lavinia
by
the
arm
.
Suum
cuique
is
our
Roman
justice
.
This
prince
in
justice
seizeth
but
his
own
.
And
that
he
will
and
shall
,
if
Lucius
live
!
Traitors
,
avaunt
!
Where
is
the
Emperor’s
guard
?
Enter
Saturninus
and
his
Guards
.
Treason
,
my
lord
.
Lavinia
is
surprised
.
Surprised
?
By
whom
?
By
him
that
justly
may
Bear
his
betrothed
from
all
the
world
away
.
Brothers
,
help
to
convey
her
hence
away
,
And
with
my
sword
I’ll
keep
this
door
safe
.
Bassianus
,
Lavinia
,
Marcus
,
Lucius
,
Quintus
,
and
Martius
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
to
Saturninus
Follow
,
my
lord
,
and
I’ll
soon
bring
her
back
.
Saturninus
,
Tamora
,
Demetrius
,
Chiron
,
Aaron
,
and
Guards
exit
.
My
lord
,
you
pass
not
here
.
What
,
villain
boy
,
Barr’st
me
my
way
in
Rome
?
He
stabs
Mutius
.
Help
,
Lucius
,
help
!
Mutius
dies
.
Enter
Lucius
.
My
lord
,
you
are
unjust
,
and
more
than
so
!
In
wrongful
quarrel
you
have
slain
your
son
.
Nor
thou
nor
he
are
any
sons
of
mine
.
My
sons
would
never
so
dishonor
me
.
Traitor
,
restore
Lavinia
to
the
Emperor
.
Enter
aloft
the
Emperor
Saturninus
with
Tamora
and
her
two
sons
and
Aaron
the
Moor
.
Dead
if
you
will
,
but
not
to
be
his
wife
That
is
another’s
lawful
promised
love
.
He
exits
.
No
,
Titus
,
no
,
the
Emperor
needs
her
not
,
Nor
her
,
nor
thee
,
nor
any
of
thy
stock
.
I’ll
trust
by
leisure
him
that
mocks
me
once
,
Thee
never
,
nor
thy
traitorous
haughty
sons
,
Confederates
all
thus
to
dishonor
me
.
Was
none
in
Rome
to
make
a
stale
But
Saturnine
?
Full
well
,
Andronicus
,
Agree
these
deeds
with
that
proud
brag
of
thine
That
said’st
I
begged
the
empire
at
thy
hands
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
O
monstrous
!
What
reproachful
words
are
these
?
But
go
thy
ways
.
Go
give
that
changing
piece
To
him
that
flourished
for
her
with
his
sword
.
A
valiant
son-in-law
thou
shalt
enjoy
,
One
fit
to
bandy
with
thy
lawless
sons
,
To
ruffle
in
the
commonwealth
of
Rome
.
These
words
are
razors
to
my
wounded
heart
.
And
therefore
,
lovely
Tamora
,
Queen
of
Goths
,
That
like
the
stately
Phoebe
’mongst
her
nymphs
Dost
overshine
the
gallant’st
dames
of
Rome
,
If
thou
be
pleased
with
this
my
sudden
choice
,
Behold
,
I
choose
thee
,
Tamora
,
for
my
bride
,
And
will
create
thee
Emperess
of
Rome
.
Speak
,
Queen
of
Goths
,
dost
thou
applaud
my
choice
?
And
here
I
swear
by
all
the
Roman
gods
,
Sith
priest
and
holy
water
are
so
near
,
And
tapers
burn
so
bright
,
and
everything
In
readiness
for
Hymenaeus
stand
,
I
will
not
resalute
the
streets
of
Rome
Or
climb
my
palace
till
from
forth
this
place
I
lead
espoused
my
bride
along
with
me
.
And
here
in
sight
of
heaven
to
Rome
I
swear
,
If
Saturnine
advance
the
Queen
of
Goths
,
She
will
a
handmaid
be
to
his
desires
,
A
loving
nurse
,
a
mother
to
his
youth
.
Ascend
,
fair
queen
,
to
Pantheon
.
—
Lords
,
accompany
Your
noble
emperor
and
his
lovely
bride
,
Sent
by
the
heavens
for
Prince
Saturnine
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
Whose
wisdom
hath
her
fortune
conquerèd
.
There
shall
we
consummate
our
spousal
rites
.
All
but
Titus
exit
.
I
am
not
bid
to
wait
upon
this
bride
.
Titus
,
when
wert
thou
wont
to
walk
alone
,
Dishonored
thus
and
challengèd
of
wrongs
?
Enter
Marcus
and
Titus’
sons
Lucius
,
Martius
,
and
Quintus
.
O
Titus
,
see
!
O
,
see
what
thou
hast
done
!
In
a
bad
quarrel
slain
a
virtuous
son
.
No
,
foolish
tribune
,
no
;
no
son
of
mine
,
Nor
thou
,
nor
these
confederates
in
the
deed
That
hath
dishonored
all
our
family
.
Unworthy
brother
and
unworthy
sons
!
But
let
us
give
him
burial
as
becomes
,
Give
Mutius
burial
with
our
brethren
.
Traitors
,
away
!
He
rests
not
in
this
tomb
.
This
monument
five
hundred
years
hath
stood
,
Which
I
have
sumptuously
reedified
.
Here
none
but
soldiers
and
Rome’s
servitors
Repose
in
fame
,
none
basely
slain
in
brawls
.
Bury
him
where
you
can
.
He
comes
not
here
.
My
lord
,
this
is
impiety
in
you
.
My
nephew
Mutius’
deeds
do
plead
for
him
.
He
must
be
buried
with
his
brethren
.
And
shall
,
or
him
we
will
accompany
.
And
shall
?
What
villain
was
it
spake
that
word
?
ACT 1. SC. 1
He
that
would
vouch
it
in
any
place
but
here
.
What
,
would
you
bury
him
in
my
despite
?
No
,
noble
Titus
,
but
entreat
of
thee
To
pardon
Mutius
and
to
bury
him
.
Marcus
,
even
thou
hast
struck
upon
my
crest
,
And
with
these
boys
mine
honor
thou
hast
wounded
.
My
foes
I
do
repute
you
every
one
.
So
trouble
me
no
more
,
but
get
you
gone
.
He
is
not
with
himself
;
let
us
withdraw
.
Not
I
,
till
Mutius’
bones
be
burièd
.
The
brother
(
Marcus
)
and
the
sons
(
Lucius
,
Martius
,
and
Quintus
)
kneel
.
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
.
Renownèd
Titus
,
more
than
half
my
soul
—
Dear
father
,
soul
and
substance
of
us
all
—
Suffer
thy
brother
Marcus
to
inter
His
noble
nephew
here
in
virtue’s
nest
,
That
died
in
honor
and
Lavinia’s
cause
.
Thou
art
a
Roman
;
be
not
barbarous
.
The
Greeks
upon
advice
did
bury
Ajax
,
That
slew
himself
,
and
wise
Laertes’
son
Did
graciously
plead
for
his
funerals
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Let
not
young
Mutius
,
then
,
that
was
thy
joy
,
Be
barred
his
entrance
here
.
Rise
,
Marcus
,
rise
.
They
rise
.
The
dismall’st
day
is
this
that
e’er
I
saw
,
To
be
dishonored
by
my
sons
in
Rome
.
Well
,
bury
him
,
and
bury
me
the
next
.
They
put
Mutius
in
the
tomb
.
There
lie
thy
bones
,
sweet
Mutius
,
with
thy
friends’
,
Till
we
with
trophies
do
adorn
thy
tomb
.
They
all
except
Titus
kneel
and
say
:
No
man
shed
tears
for
noble
Mutius
.
He
lives
in
fame
,
that
died
in
virtue’s
cause
.
All
but
Marcus
and
Titus
exit
.
My
lord
,
to
step
out
of
these
dreary
dumps
,
How
comes
it
that
the
subtle
Queen
of
Goths
Is
of
a
sudden
thus
advanced
in
Rome
?
I
know
not
,
Marcus
,
but
I
know
it
is
.
Whether
by
device
or
no
,
the
heavens
can
tell
.
Is
she
not
then
beholding
to
the
man
That
brought
her
for
this
high
good
turn
so
far
?
Yes
,
and
will
nobly
him
remunerate
.
Flourish
.
Enter
the
Emperor
Saturninus
,
Tamora
and
her
two
sons
,
with
Aaron
the
Moor
,
Drums
and
Trumpets
,
at
one
door
.
Enter
at
the
other
door
Bassianus
and
Lavinia
,
with
Lucius
,
Martius
,
and
Quintus
,
and
others
.
So
,
Bassianus
,
you
have
played
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
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Traitor
,
if
Rome
have
law
or
we
have
power
,
Thou
and
thy
faction
shall
repent
this
rape
.
Rape
call
you
it
,
my
lord
,
to
seize
my
own
,
My
true
betrothèd
love
and
now
my
wife
?
But
let
the
laws
of
Rome
determine
all
.
Meanwhile
am
I
possessed
of
that
is
mine
.
’Tis
good
,
sir
,
you
are
very
short
with
us
.
But
if
we
live
,
we’ll
be
as
sharp
with
you
.
My
lord
,
what
I
have
done
,
as
best
I
may
,
Answer
I
must
,
and
shall
do
with
my
life
.
Only
thus
much
I
give
your
Grace
to
know
:
By
all
the
duties
that
I
owe
to
Rome
,
This
noble
gentleman
,
Lord
Titus
here
,
Is
in
opinion
and
in
honor
wronged
,
That
in
the
rescue
of
Lavinia
With
his
own
hand
did
slay
his
youngest
son
,
In
zeal
to
you
,
and
highly
moved
to
wrath
To
be
controlled
in
that
he
frankly
gave
.
Receive
him
then
to
favor
,
Saturnine
,
That
hath
expressed
himself
in
all
his
deeds
A
father
and
a
friend
to
thee
and
Rome
.
Prince
Bassianus
,
leave
to
plead
my
deeds
.
’Tis
thou
,
and
those
,
that
have
dishonored
me
.
Rome
and
the
righteous
heavens
be
my
judge
How
I
have
loved
and
honored
Saturnine
.
He
kneels
.
,
to
Saturninus
My
worthy
lord
,
if
ever
Tamora
Were
gracious
in
those
princely
eyes
of
thine
,
Then
hear
me
speak
indifferently
for
all
,
And
at
my
suit
,
sweet
,
pardon
what
is
past
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
What
,
madam
,
be
dishonored
openly
,
And
basely
put
it
up
without
revenge
?
Not
so
,
my
lord
;
the
gods
of
Rome
forfend
I
should
be
author
to
dishonor
you
.
But
on
mine
honor
dare
I
undertake
For
good
Lord
Titus’
innocence
in
all
,
Whose
fury
not
dissembled
speaks
his
griefs
.
Then
at
my
suit
look
graciously
on
him
.
Lose
not
so
noble
a
friend
on
vain
suppose
,
Nor
with
sour
looks
afflict
his
gentle
heart
.
Aside
to
Saturninus
.
My
lord
,
be
ruled
by
me
;
be
won
at
last
.
Dissemble
all
your
griefs
and
discontents
.
You
are
but
newly
planted
in
your
throne
.
Lest
,
then
,
the
people
,
and
patricians
too
,
Upon
a
just
survey
take
Titus’
part
And
so
supplant
you
for
ingratitude
,
Which
Rome
reputes
to
be
a
heinous
sin
.
Yield
at
entreats
,
and
then
let
me
alone
.
I’ll
find
a
day
to
massacre
them
all
And
raze
their
faction
and
their
family
,
The
cruel
father
and
his
traitorous
sons
,
To
whom
I
sued
for
my
dear
son’s
life
,
And
make
them
know
what
’tis
to
let
a
queen
Kneel
in
the
streets
and
beg
for
grace
in
vain
.
Aloud
.
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
prevailed
.
,
rising
I
thank
your
Majesty
and
her
,
my
lord
.
These
words
,
these
looks
,
infuse
new
life
in
me
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Titus
,
I
am
incorporate
in
Rome
,
A
Roman
now
adopted
happily
,
And
must
advise
the
Emperor
for
his
good
.
This
day
all
quarrels
die
,
Andronicus
.
—
And
let
it
be
mine
honor
,
good
my
lord
,
That
I
have
reconciled
your
friends
and
you
.
—
For
you
,
Prince
Bassianus
,
I
have
passed
My
word
and
promise
to
the
Emperor
That
you
will
be
more
mild
and
tractable
.
—
And
fear
not
,
lords
—
and
you
,
Lavinia
.
By
my
advice
,
all
humbled
on
your
knees
,
You
shall
ask
pardon
of
his
Majesty
.
Marcus
,
Lavinia
,
Lucius
,
Martius
,
and
Quintus
kneel
.
We
do
,
and
vow
to
heaven
and
to
his
Highness
That
what
we
did
was
mildly
as
we
might
,
Tend’ring
our
sister’s
honor
and
our
own
.
That
on
mine
honor
here
do
I
protest
.
Away
,
and
talk
not
;
trouble
us
no
more
.
Nay
,
nay
,
sweet
emperor
,
we
must
all
be
friends
.
The
tribune
and
his
nephews
kneel
for
grace
.
I
will
not
be
denied
.
Sweetheart
,
look
back
.
Marcus
,
for
thy
sake
,
and
thy
brother’s
here
,
And
at
my
lovely
Tamora’s
entreats
,
I
do
remit
these
young
men’s
heinous
faults
.
Stand
up
.
They
rise
.
Lavinia
,
though
you
left
me
like
a
churl
,
I
found
a
friend
,
and
sure
as
death
I
swore
I
would
not
part
a
bachelor
from
the
priest
.
Come
,
if
the
Emperor’s
court
can
feast
two
brides
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
You
are
my
guest
,
Lavinia
,
and
your
friends
.
—
This
day
shall
be
a
love-day
,
Tamora
.
Tomorrow
,
an
it
please
your
Majesty
To
hunt
the
panther
and
the
hart
with
me
,
With
horn
and
hound
we’ll
give
your
Grace
bonjour
.
Be
it
so
,
Titus
,
and
gramercy
too
.
Sound
trumpets
.
All
but
Aaron
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Now
climbeth
Tamora
Olympus’
top
,
Safe
out
of
Fortune’s
shot
,
and
sits
aloft
,
Secure
of
thunder’s
crack
or
lightning
flash
,
Advanced
above
pale
Envy’s
threat’ning
reach
.
As
when
the
golden
sun
salutes
the
morn
And
,
having
gilt
the
ocean
with
his
beams
,
Gallops
the
zodiac
in
his
glistering
coach
And
overlooks
the
highest-peering
hills
,
So
Tamora
.
Upon
her
wit
doth
earthly
honor
wait
,
And
virtue
stoops
and
trembles
at
her
frown
.
Then
,
Aaron
,
arm
thy
heart
and
fit
thy
thoughts
To
mount
aloft
with
thy
imperial
mistress
,
And
mount
her
pitch
whom
thou
in
triumph
long
Hast
prisoner
held
,
fettered
in
amorous
chains
And
faster
bound
to
Aaron’s
charming
eyes
Than
is
Prometheus
tied
to
Caucasus
.
Away
with
slavish
weeds
and
servile
thoughts
!
I
will
be
bright
,
and
shine
in
pearl
and
gold
To
wait
upon
this
new-made
emperess
.
To
wait
,
said
I
?
To
wanton
with
this
queen
,
This
goddess
,
this
Semiramis
,
this
nymph
,
This
siren
that
will
charm
Rome’s
Saturnine
ACT 2. SC. 1
And
see
his
shipwrack
and
his
commonweal’s
.
Holla
!
What
storm
is
this
?
Enter
Chiron
and
Demetrius
,
braving
.
Chiron
,
thy
years
wants
wit
,
thy
wits
wants
edge
And
manners
,
to
intrude
where
I
am
graced
,
And
may
,
for
aught
thou
knowest
,
affected
be
.
Demetrius
,
thou
dost
overween
in
all
,
And
so
in
this
,
to
bear
me
down
with
braves
.
’Tis
not
the
difference
of
a
year
or
two
Makes
me
less
gracious
or
thee
more
fortunate
.
I
am
as
able
and
as
fit
as
thou
To
serve
and
to
deserve
my
mistress’
grace
,
And
that
my
sword
upon
thee
shall
approve
And
plead
my
passions
for
Lavinia’s
love
.
,
aside
Clubs
,
clubs
!
These
lovers
will
not
keep
the
peace
.
,
to
Chiron
Why
,
boy
,
although
our
mother
,
unadvised
,
Gave
you
a
dancing
rapier
by
your
side
,
Are
you
so
desperate
grown
to
threat
your
friends
?
Go
to
.
Have
your
lath
glued
within
your
sheath
Till
you
know
better
how
to
handle
it
.
Meanwhile
,
sir
,
with
the
little
skill
I
have
,
Full
well
shalt
thou
perceive
how
much
I
dare
.
Ay
,
boy
,
grow
you
so
brave
?
They
draw
.
Why
,
how
now
,
lords
?
So
near
the
Emperor’s
palace
dare
you
draw
And
maintain
such
a
quarrel
openly
?
Full
well
I
wot
the
ground
of
all
this
grudge
.
I
would
not
for
a
million
of
gold
The
cause
were
known
to
them
it
most
concerns
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
Nor
would
your
noble
mother
for
much
more
Be
so
dishonored
in
the
court
of
Rome
.
For
shame
,
put
up
.
Not
I
,
till
I
have
sheathed
My
rapier
in
his
bosom
,
and
withal
Thrust
those
reproachful
speeches
down
his
throat
That
he
hath
breathed
in
my
dishonor
here
.
For
that
I
am
prepared
and
full
resolved
,
Foul-spoken
coward
,
that
thund’rest
with
thy
tongue
And
with
thy
weapon
nothing
dar’st
perform
.
Away
,
I
say
!
Now
by
the
gods
that
warlike
Goths
adore
,
This
petty
brabble
will
undo
us
all
.
Why
,
lords
,
and
think
you
not
how
dangerous
It
is
to
jet
upon
a
prince’s
right
?
What
,
is
Lavinia
then
become
so
loose
Or
Bassianus
so
degenerate
That
for
her
love
such
quarrels
may
be
broached
Without
controlment
,
justice
,
or
revenge
?
Young
lords
,
beware
!
And
should
the
Empress
know
This
discord’s
ground
,
the
music
would
not
please
.
I
care
not
,
I
,
knew
she
and
all
the
world
.
I
love
Lavinia
more
than
all
the
world
.
Youngling
,
learn
thou
to
make
some
meaner
choice
.
Lavinia
is
thine
elder
brother’s
hope
.
Why
,
are
you
mad
?
Or
know
you
not
in
Rome
How
furious
and
impatient
they
be
,
And
cannot
brook
competitors
in
love
?
I
tell
you
,
lords
,
you
do
but
plot
your
deaths
By
this
device
.
Aaron
,
a
thousand
deaths
Would
I
propose
to
achieve
her
whom
I
love
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
To
achieve
her
how
?
Why
makes
thou
it
so
strange
?
She
is
a
woman
,
therefore
may
be
wooed
;
She
is
a
woman
,
therefore
may
be
won
;
She
is
Lavinia
,
therefore
must
be
loved
.
What
,
man
,
more
water
glideth
by
the
mill
Than
wots
the
miller
of
,
and
easy
it
is
Of
a
cut
loaf
to
steal
a
shive
,
we
know
.
Though
Bassianus
be
the
Emperor’s
brother
,
Better
than
he
have
worn
Vulcan’s
badge
.
,
aside
Ay
,
and
as
good
as
Saturninus
may
.
Then
why
should
he
despair
that
knows
to
court
it
With
words
,
fair
looks
,
and
liberality
?
What
,
hast
not
thou
full
often
struck
a
doe
And
borne
her
cleanly
by
the
keeper’s
nose
?
Why
,
then
,
it
seems
some
certain
snatch
or
so
Would
serve
your
turns
.
Ay
,
so
the
turn
were
served
.
Aaron
,
thou
hast
hit
it
.
Would
you
had
hit
it
too
!
Then
should
not
we
be
tired
with
this
ado
.
Why
,
hark
you
,
hark
you
!
And
are
you
such
fools
To
square
for
this
?
Would
it
offend
you
then
That
both
should
speed
?
Faith
,
not
me
.
Nor
me
,
so
I
were
one
.
For
shame
,
be
friends
,
and
join
for
that
you
jar
.
’Tis
policy
and
stratagem
must
do
That
you
affect
,
and
so
must
you
resolve
ACT 2. SC. 1
That
what
you
cannot
as
you
would
achieve
,
You
must
perforce
accomplish
as
you
may
.
Take
this
of
me
:
Lucrece
was
not
more
chaste
Than
this
Lavinia
,
Bassianus’
love
.
A
speedier
course
than
ling’ring
languishment
Must
we
pursue
,
and
I
have
found
the
path
.
My
lords
,
a
solemn
hunting
is
in
hand
;
There
will
the
lovely
Roman
ladies
troop
.
The
forest
walks
are
wide
and
spacious
,
And
many
unfrequented
plots
there
are
,
Fitted
by
kind
for
rape
and
villainy
.
Single
you
thither
then
this
dainty
doe
,
And
strike
her
home
by
force
,
if
not
by
words
.
This
way
,
or
not
at
all
,
stand
you
in
hope
.
Come
,
come
,
our
empress
,
with
her
sacred
wit
To
villainy
and
vengeance
consecrate
,
Will
we
acquaint
withal
what
we
intend
,
And
she
shall
file
our
engines
with
advice
That
will
not
suffer
you
to
square
yourselves
,
But
to
your
wishes’
height
advance
you
both
.
The
Emperor’s
court
is
like
the
house
of
Fame
,
The
palace
full
of
tongues
,
of
eyes
,
and
ears
;
The
woods
are
ruthless
,
dreadful
,
deaf
,
and
dull
.
There
speak
and
strike
,
brave
boys
,
and
take
your
turns
.
There
serve
your
lust
,
shadowed
from
heaven’s
eye
,
And
revel
in
Lavinia’s
treasury
.
Thy
counsel
,
lad
,
smells
of
no
cowardice
.
Sit
fas
aut
nefas
,
till
I
find
the
stream
To
cool
this
heat
,
a
charm
to
calm
these
fits
,
Per
Stygia
,
per
manes
vehor
.
They
exit
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Titus
Andronicus
and
his
three
sons
,
and
Marcus
,
making
a
noise
with
hounds
and
horns
.
The
hunt
is
up
,
the
moon
is
bright
and
gray
,
The
fields
are
fragrant
,
and
the
woods
are
green
.
Uncouple
here
,
and
let
us
make
a
bay
And
wake
the
Emperor
and
his
lovely
bride
,
And
rouse
the
Prince
,
and
ring
a
hunter’s
peal
,
That
all
the
court
may
echo
with
the
noise
.
Sons
,
let
it
be
your
charge
,
as
it
is
ours
,
To
attend
the
Emperor’s
person
carefully
.
I
have
been
troubled
in
my
sleep
this
night
,
But
dawning
day
new
comfort
hath
inspired
.
Here
a
cry
of
hounds
,
and
wind
horns
in
a
peal
.
Then
enter
Saturninus
,
Tamora
,
Bassianus
,
Lavinia
,
Chiron
,
Demetrius
,
and
their
Attendants
.
Many
good
morrows
to
your
Majesty
;
—
Madam
,
to
you
as
many
,
and
as
good
.
—
I
promisèd
your
Grace
a
hunter’s
peal
.
And
you
have
rung
it
lustily
,
my
lords
—
Somewhat
too
early
for
new-married
ladies
.
Lavinia
,
how
say
you
?
I
say
no
.
I
have
been
broad
awake
two
hours
and
more
.
Come
on
,
then
.
Horse
and
chariots
let
us
have
,
And
to
our
sport
.
(
To
Tamora
)
Madam
,
now
shall
you
see
Our
Roman
hunting
.
I
have
dogs
,
my
lord
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
Will
rouse
the
proudest
panther
in
the
chase
And
climb
the
highest
promontory
top
.
And
I
have
horse
will
follow
where
the
game
Makes
way
and
runs
like
swallows
o’er
the
plain
.
,
aside
to
Chiron
Chiron
,
we
hunt
not
,
we
,
with
horse
nor
hound
,
But
hope
to
pluck
a
dainty
doe
to
ground
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Aaron
,
alone
,
carrying
a
bag
of
gold
.
He
that
had
wit
would
think
that
I
had
none
,
To
bury
so
much
gold
under
a
tree
And
never
after
to
inherit
it
.
Let
him
that
thinks
of
me
so
abjectly
Know
that
this
gold
must
coin
a
stratagem
Which
,
cunningly
effected
,
will
beget
A
very
excellent
piece
of
villainy
.
He
hides
the
bag
.
And
so
repose
,
sweet
gold
,
for
their
unrest
That
have
their
alms
out
of
the
Empress’
chest
.
Enter
Tamora
alone
to
Aaron
the
Moor
.
My
lovely
Aaron
,
wherefore
look’st
thou
sad
,
When
everything
doth
make
a
gleeful
boast
?
The
birds
chant
melody
on
every
bush
,
The
snakes
lies
rollèd
in
the
cheerful
sun
,
The
green
leaves
quiver
with
the
cooling
wind
And
make
a
checkered
shadow
on
the
ground
.
Under
their
sweet
shade
,
Aaron
,
let
us
sit
,
And
whilst
the
babbling
echo
mocks
the
hounds
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
Replying
shrilly
to
the
well-tuned
horns
,
As
if
a
double
hunt
were
heard
at
once
,
Let
us
sit
down
and
mark
their
yellowing
noise
.
And
after
conflict
such
as
was
supposed
The
wand’ring
prince
and
Dido
once
enjoyed
When
with
a
happy
storm
they
were
surprised
,
And
curtained
with
a
counsel-keeping
cave
,
We
may
,
each
wreathèd
in
the
other’s
arms
,
Our
pastimes
done
,
possess
a
golden
slumber
,
Whiles
hounds
and
horns
and
sweet
melodious
birds
Be
unto
us
as
is
a
nurse’s
song
Of
lullaby
to
bring
her
babe
asleep
.
Madam
,
though
Venus
govern
your
desires
,
Saturn
is
dominator
over
mine
.
What
signifies
my
deadly
standing
eye
,
My
silence
,
and
my
cloudy
melancholy
,
My
fleece
of
woolly
hair
that
now
uncurls
Even
as
an
adder
when
she
doth
unroll
To
do
some
fatal
execution
?
No
,
madam
,
these
are
no
venereal
signs
.
Vengeance
is
in
my
heart
,
death
in
my
hand
,
Blood
and
revenge
are
hammering
in
my
head
.
Hark
,
Tamora
,
the
empress
of
my
soul
,
Which
never
hopes
more
heaven
than
rests
in
thee
,
This
is
the
day
of
doom
for
Bassianus
.
His
Philomel
must
lose
her
tongue
today
,
Thy
sons
make
pillage
of
her
chastity
And
wash
their
hands
in
Bassianus’
blood
.
He
takes
out
a
paper
.
Seest
thou
this
letter
?
Take
it
up
,
I
pray
thee
,
And
give
the
King
this
fatal-plotted
scroll
.
He
hands
her
the
paper
.
Now
,
question
me
no
more
.
We
are
espied
.
Here
comes
a
parcel
of
our
hopeful
booty
,
Which
dreads
not
yet
their
lives’
destruction
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
Bassianus
and
Lavinia
.
Ah
,
my
sweet
Moor
,
sweeter
to
me
than
life
!
No
more
,
great
empress
.
Bassianus
comes
.
Be
cross
with
him
,
and
I’ll
go
fetch
thy
sons
To
back
thy
quarrels
,
whatsoe’er
they
be
.
He
exits
.
Who
have
we
here
?
Rome’s
royal
empress
,
Unfurnished
of
her
well-beseeming
troop
?
Or
is
it
Dian
,
habited
like
her
,
Who
hath
abandonèd
her
holy
groves
To
see
the
general
hunting
in
this
forest
?
Saucy
controller
of
my
private
steps
,
Had
I
the
power
that
some
say
Dian
had
,
Thy
temples
should
be
planted
presently
With
horns
,
as
was
Acteon’s
,
and
the
hounds
Should
drive
upon
thy
new-transformèd
limbs
,
Unmannerly
intruder
as
thou
art
.
Under
your
patience
,
gentle
empress
,
’Tis
thought
you
have
a
goodly
gift
in
horning
,
And
to
be
doubted
that
your
Moor
and
you
Are
singled
forth
to
try
experiments
.
Jove
shield
your
husband
from
his
hounds
today
!
’Tis
pity
they
should
take
him
for
a
stag
.
Believe
me
,
queen
,
your
swarthy
Cimmerian
Doth
make
your
honor
of
his
body’s
hue
,
Spotted
,
detested
,
and
abominable
.
Why
are
you
sequestered
from
all
your
train
,
Dismounted
from
your
snow-white
goodly
steed
,
And
wandered
hither
to
an
obscure
plot
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
Accompanied
but
with
a
barbarous
Moor
,
If
foul
desire
had
not
conducted
you
?
And
being
intercepted
in
your
sport
,
Great
reason
that
my
noble
lord
be
rated
For
sauciness
.
—
I
pray
you
,
let
us
hence
,
And
let
her
joy
her
raven-colored
love
.
This
valley
fits
the
purpose
passing
well
.
The
King
my
brother
shall
have
notice
of
this
.
Ay
,
for
these
slips
have
made
him
noted
long
.
Good
king
to
be
so
mightily
abused
!
Why
,
I
have
patience
to
endure
all
this
.
Enter
Chiron
and
Demetrius
.
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
,
A
barren
,
detested
vale
you
see
it
is
;
The
trees
,
though
summer
,
yet
forlorn
and
lean
,
Overcome
with
moss
and
baleful
mistletoe
.
Here
never
shines
the
sun
,
here
nothing
breeds
,
Unless
the
nightly
owl
or
fatal
raven
.
And
when
they
showed
me
this
abhorrèd
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
confusèd
cries
As
any
mortal
body
hearing
it
Should
straight
fall
mad
,
or
else
die
suddenly
.
No
sooner
had
they
told
this
hellish
tale
ACT 2. SC. 3
But
straight
they
told
me
they
would
bind
me
here
Unto
the
body
of
a
dismal
yew
And
leave
me
to
this
miserable
death
.
And
then
they
called
me
foul
adulteress
,
Lascivious
Goth
,
and
all
the
bitterest
terms
That
ever
ear
did
hear
to
such
effect
.
And
had
you
not
by
wondrous
fortune
come
,
This
vengeance
on
me
had
they
executed
.
Revenge
it
as
you
love
your
mother’s
life
,
Or
be
you
not
henceforth
called
my
children
.
,
drawing
his
dagger
This
is
a
witness
that
I
am
thy
son
.
,
drawing
his
dagger
And
this
for
me
,
struck
home
to
show
my
strength
.
They
stab
Bassianus
.
Ay
,
come
,
Semiramis
,
nay
,
barbarous
Tamora
,
For
no
name
fits
thy
nature
but
thy
own
!
Give
me
the
poniard
!
You
shall
know
,
my
boys
,
Your
mother’s
hand
shall
right
your
mother’s
wrong
.
Stay
,
madam
,
here
is
more
belongs
to
her
.
First
thrash
the
corn
,
then
after
burn
the
straw
.
This
minion
stood
upon
her
chastity
,
Upon
her
nuptial
vow
,
her
loyalty
,
And
with
that
painted
hope
braves
your
mightiness
;
And
shall
she
carry
this
unto
her
grave
?
And
if
she
do
,
I
would
I
were
an
eunuch
!
Drag
hence
her
husband
to
some
secret
hole
,
And
make
his
dead
trunk
pillow
to
our
lust
.
But
when
you
have
the
honey
you
desire
,
Let
not
this
wasp
outlive
,
us
both
to
sting
.
I
warrant
you
,
madam
,
we
will
make
that
sure
.
—
ACT 2. SC. 3
Come
,
mistress
,
now
perforce
we
will
enjoy
That
nice-preservèd
honesty
of
yours
.
O
Tamora
,
thou
bearest
a
woman’s
face
—
I
will
not
hear
her
speak
.
Away
with
her
.
Sweet
lords
,
entreat
her
hear
me
but
a
word
.
,
to
Tamora
Listen
,
fair
madam
.
Let
it
be
your
glory
To
see
her
tears
,
but
be
your
heart
to
them
As
unrelenting
flint
to
drops
of
rain
.
When
did
the
tiger’s
young
ones
teach
the
dam
?
O
,
do
not
learn
her
wrath
;
she
taught
it
thee
.
The
milk
thou
suck’st
from
her
did
turn
to
marble
.
Even
at
thy
teat
thou
hadst
thy
tyranny
.
Yet
every
mother
breeds
not
sons
alike
.
To
Chiron
.
Do
thou
entreat
her
show
a
woman’s
pity
.
What
,
wouldst
thou
have
me
prove
myself
a
bastard
?
’Tis
true
;
the
raven
doth
not
hatch
a
lark
.
Yet
have
I
heard
—
O
,
could
I
find
it
now
!
—
The
lion
,
moved
with
pity
,
did
endure
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
,
Nothing
so
kind
,
but
something
pitiful
.
I
know
not
what
it
means
.
—
Away
with
her
.
O
,
let
me
teach
thee
!
For
my
father’s
sake
,
That
gave
thee
life
when
well
he
might
have
slain
thee
,
Be
not
obdurate
;
open
thy
deaf
ears
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Hadst
thou
in
person
ne’er
offended
me
,
Even
for
his
sake
am
I
pitiless
.
—
Remember
,
boys
,
I
poured
forth
tears
in
vain
To
save
your
brother
from
the
sacrifice
,
But
fierce
Andronicus
would
not
relent
.
Therefore
away
with
her
,
and
use
her
as
you
will
;
The
worse
to
her
,
the
better
loved
of
me
.
O
Tamora
,
be
called
a
gentle
queen
,
And
with
thine
own
hands
kill
me
in
this
place
!
For
’tis
not
life
that
I
have
begged
so
long
;
Poor
I
was
slain
when
Bassianus
died
.
What
begg’st
thou
,
then
?
Fond
woman
,
let
me
go
!
’Tis
present
death
I
beg
,
and
one
thing
more
That
womanhood
denies
my
tongue
to
tell
.
O
,
keep
me
from
their
worse-than-killing
lust
,
And
tumble
me
into
some
loathsome
pit
Where
never
man’s
eye
may
behold
my
body
.
Do
this
,
and
be
a
charitable
murderer
.
So
should
I
rob
my
sweet
sons
of
their
fee
.
No
,
let
them
satisfy
their
lust
on
thee
.
,
to
Lavinia
Away
,
for
thou
hast
stayed
us
here
too
long
!
,
to
Tamora
No
grace
,
no
womanhood
?
Ah
,
beastly
creature
,
The
blot
and
enemy
to
our
general
name
,
Confusion
fall
—
Nay
,
then
,
I’ll
stop
your
mouth
.
—
Bring
thou
her
husband
.
This
is
the
hole
where
Aaron
bid
us
hide
him
.
They
put
Bassianus’
body
in
the
pit
and
exit
,
carrying
off
Lavinia
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Farewell
,
my
sons
.
See
that
you
make
her
sure
.
Ne’er
let
my
heart
know
merry
cheer
indeed
Till
all
the
Andronici
be
made
away
.
Now
will
I
hence
to
seek
my
lovely
Moor
,
And
let
my
spleenful
sons
this
trull
deflower
.
She
exits
.
Enter
Aaron
with
two
of
Titus’
sons
,
Quintus
and
Martius
.
Come
on
,
my
lords
,
the
better
foot
before
.
Straight
will
I
bring
you
to
the
loathsome
pit
Where
I
espied
the
panther
fast
asleep
.
My
sight
is
very
dull
,
whate’er
it
bodes
.
And
mine
,
I
promise
you
.
Were
it
not
for
shame
,
Well
could
I
leave
our
sport
to
sleep
awhile
.
He
falls
into
the
pit
.
What
,
art
thou
fallen
?
What
subtle
hole
is
this
,
Whose
mouth
is
covered
with
rude-growing
briers
Upon
whose
leaves
are
drops
of
new-shed
blood
As
fresh
as
morning
dew
distilled
on
flowers
?
A
very
fatal
place
it
seems
to
me
.
Speak
,
brother
!
Hast
thou
hurt
thee
with
the
fall
?
O
,
brother
,
with
the
dismal’st
object
hurt
That
ever
eye
with
sight
made
heart
lament
!
,
aside
Now
will
I
fetch
the
King
to
find
them
here
,
That
he
thereby
may
have
a
likely
guess
How
these
were
they
that
made
away
his
brother
.
He
exits
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Why
dost
not
comfort
me
and
help
me
out
From
this
unhallowed
and
bloodstainèd
hole
?
I
am
surprisèd
with
an
uncouth
fear
.
A
chilling
sweat
o’erruns
my
trembling
joints
.
My
heart
suspects
more
than
mine
eye
can
see
.
To
prove
thou
hast
a
true-divining
heart
,
Aaron
and
thou
look
down
into
this
den
And
see
a
fearful
sight
of
blood
and
death
.
Aaron
is
gone
,
and
my
compassionate
heart
Will
not
permit
mine
eyes
once
to
behold
The
thing
whereat
it
trembles
by
surmise
.
O
,
tell
me
who
it
is
,
for
ne’er
till
now
Was
I
a
child
to
fear
I
know
not
what
.
Lord
Bassianus
lies
berayed
in
blood
,
All
on
a
heap
,
like
to
a
slaughtered
lamb
,
In
this
detested
,
dark
,
blood-drinking
pit
.
If
it
be
dark
,
how
dost
thou
know
’tis
he
?
Upon
his
bloody
finger
he
doth
wear
A
precious
ring
that
lightens
all
this
hole
,
Which
like
a
taper
in
some
monument
Doth
shine
upon
the
dead
man’s
earthy
cheeks
And
shows
the
ragged
entrails
of
this
pit
.
So
pale
did
shine
the
moon
on
Pyramus
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
—
Out
of
this
fell
devouring
receptacle
,
As
hateful
as
Cocytus’
misty
mouth
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
,
reaching
into
the
pit
Reach
me
thy
hand
,
that
I
may
help
thee
out
,
Or
,
wanting
strength
to
do
thee
so
much
good
,
I
may
be
plucked
into
the
swallowing
womb
Of
this
deep
pit
,
poor
Bassianus’
grave
.
He
pulls
Martius’
hand
.
I
have
no
strength
to
pluck
thee
to
the
brink
.
Nor
I
no
strength
to
climb
without
thy
help
.
Thy
hand
once
more
.
I
will
not
loose
again
Till
thou
art
here
aloft
or
I
below
.
Thou
canst
not
come
to
me
.
I
come
to
thee
.
He
falls
in
.
Enter
the
Emperor
Saturninus
,
with
Attendants
,
and
Aaron
the
Moor
.
Along
with
me
!
I’ll
see
what
hole
is
here
And
what
he
is
that
now
is
leapt
into
it
.
—
Say
,
who
art
thou
that
lately
didst
descend
Into
this
gaping
hollow
of
the
earth
?
The
unhappy
sons
of
old
Andronicus
,
Brought
hither
in
a
most
unlucky
hour
To
find
thy
brother
Bassianus
dead
.
My
brother
dead
!
I
know
thou
dost
but
jest
.
He
and
his
lady
both
are
at
the
lodge
Upon
the
north
side
of
this
pleasant
chase
.
’Tis
not
an
hour
since
I
left
them
there
.
We
know
not
where
you
left
them
all
alive
,
But
,
out
alas
,
here
have
we
found
him
dead
.
Enter
Tamora
,
Titus
Andronicus
,
and
Lucius
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Where
is
my
lord
the
King
?
Here
,
Tamora
,
though
grieved
with
killing
grief
.
Where
is
thy
brother
Bassianus
?
Now
to
the
bottom
dost
thou
search
my
wound
.
Poor
Bassianus
here
lies
murderèd
.
Then
all
too
late
I
bring
this
fatal
writ
,
The
complot
of
this
timeless
tragedy
,
And
wonder
greatly
that
man’s
face
can
fold
In
pleasing
smiles
such
murderous
tyranny
.
She
giveth
Saturnine
a
letter
.
(
reads
the
letter
)
:
An
if
we
miss
to
meet
him
handsomely
,
Sweet
huntsman
—
Bassianus
’tis
we
mean
—
Do
thou
so
much
as
dig
the
grave
for
him
;
Thou
know’st
our
meaning
.
Look
for
thy
reward
Among
the
nettles
at
the
elder
tree
Which
overshades
the
mouth
of
that
same
pit
Where
we
decreed
to
bury
Bassianus
.
Do
this
,
and
purchase
us
thy
lasting
friends
.
O
Tamora
,
was
ever
heard
the
like
?
This
is
the
pit
,
and
this
the
elder
tree
.
—
Look
,
sirs
,
if
you
can
find
the
huntsman
out
That
should
have
murdered
Bassianus
here
.
My
gracious
lord
,
here
is
the
bag
of
gold
.
,
to
Titus
Two
of
thy
whelps
,
fell
curs
of
bloody
kind
,
Have
here
bereft
my
brother
of
his
life
.
—
Sirs
,
drag
them
from
the
pit
unto
the
prison
.
There
let
them
bide
until
we
have
devised
Some
never-heard-of
torturing
pain
for
them
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
What
,
are
they
in
this
pit
?
O
wondrous
thing
!
How
easily
murder
is
discoverèd
.
Attendants
pull
Quintus
,
Martius
,
and
the
body
of
Bassianus
from
the
pit
.
,
kneeling
High
Emperor
,
upon
my
feeble
knee
I
beg
this
boon
with
tears
not
lightly
shed
,
That
this
fell
fault
of
my
accursèd
sons
—
Accursèd
if
the
faults
be
proved
in
them
—
If
it
be
proved
!
You
see
it
is
apparent
.
Who
found
this
letter
?
Tamora
,
was
it
you
?
Andronicus
himself
did
take
it
up
.
I
did
,
my
lord
,
yet
let
me
be
their
bail
,
For
by
my
father’s
reverend
tomb
I
vow
They
shall
be
ready
at
your
Highness’
will
To
answer
their
suspicion
with
their
lives
.
Thou
shalt
not
bail
them
.
See
thou
follow
me
.
—
Some
bring
the
murdered
body
,
some
the
murderers
.
Let
them
not
speak
a
word
.
The
guilt
is
plain
.
For
,
by
my
soul
,
were
there
worse
end
than
death
,
That
end
upon
them
should
be
executed
.
Andronicus
,
I
will
entreat
the
King
.
Fear
not
thy
sons
;
they
shall
do
well
enough
.
,
rising
Come
,
Lucius
,
come
.
Stay
not
to
talk
with
them
.
They
exit
,
with
Attendants
leading
Martius
and
Quintus
and
bearing
the
body
of
Bassianus
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
the
Empress’
sons
,
Demetrius
and
Chiron
,
with
Lavinia
,
her
hands
cut
off
,
and
her
tongue
cut
out
,
and
ravished
.
So
,
now
go
tell
,
an
if
thy
tongue
can
speak
,
Who
’twas
that
cut
thy
tongue
and
ravished
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
.
,
to
Lavinia
Go
home
.
Call
for
sweet
water
;
wash
thy
hands
.
She
hath
no
tongue
to
call
,
nor
hands
to
wash
;
And
so
let’s
leave
her
to
her
silent
walks
.
An
’twere
my
cause
,
I
should
go
hang
myself
.
If
thou
hadst
hands
to
help
thee
knit
the
cord
.
Chiron
and
Demetrius
exit
.
Enter
Marcus
from
hunting
.
Who
is
this
?
My
niece
,
that
flies
away
so
fast
?
—
Cousin
,
a
word
.
Where
is
your
husband
?
If
I
do
dream
,
would
all
my
wealth
would
wake
me
.
If
I
do
wake
,
some
planet
strike
me
down
That
I
may
slumber
an
eternal
sleep
.
Speak
,
gentle
niece
.
What
stern
ungentle
hands
Hath
lopped
and
hewed
and
made
thy
body
bare
Of
her
two
branches
,
those
sweet
ornaments
Whose
circling
shadows
kings
have
sought
to
sleep
in
,
And
might
not
gain
so
great
a
happiness
As
half
thy
love
?
Why
dost
not
speak
to
me
?
ACT 2. SC. 4
Alas
,
a
crimson
river
of
warm
blood
,
Like
to
a
bubbling
fountain
stirred
with
wind
,
Doth
rise
and
fall
between
thy
rosèd
lips
,
Coming
and
going
with
thy
honey
breath
.
But
sure
some
Tereus
hath
deflowered
thee
,
And
lest
thou
shouldst
detect
him
cut
thy
tongue
.
Ah
,
now
thou
turn’st
away
thy
face
for
shame
,
And
notwithstanding
all
this
loss
of
blood
,
As
from
a
conduit
with
three
issuing
spouts
,
Yet
do
thy
cheeks
look
red
as
Titan’s
face
,
Blushing
to
be
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
.
Sorrow
concealèd
,
like
an
oven
stopped
,
Doth
burn
the
heart
to
cinders
where
it
is
.
Fair
Philomela
,
why
she
but
lost
her
tongue
,
And
in
a
tedious
sampler
sewed
her
mind
;
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
sewed
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
touched
them
for
his
life
.
Or
had
he
heard
the
heavenly
harmony
Which
that
sweet
tongue
hath
made
,
He
would
have
dropped
his
knife
and
fell
asleep
,
As
Cerberus
at
the
Thracian
poet’s
feet
.
Come
,
let
us
go
and
make
thy
father
blind
,
For
such
a
sight
will
blind
a
father’s
eye
.
One
hour’s
storm
will
drown
the
fragrant
meads
;
What
will
whole
months
of
tears
thy
father’s
eyes
?
Do
not
draw
back
,
for
we
will
mourn
with
thee
.
O
,
could
our
mourning
ease
thy
misery
!
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Enter
the
Judges
and
Senators
with
Titus’
two
sons
(
Quintus
and
Martius
)
bound
,
passing
on
the
stage
to
the
place
of
execution
,
and
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
Rome’s
great
quarrel
shed
,
For
all
the
frosty
nights
that
I
have
watched
,
And
for
these
bitter
tears
which
now
you
see
,
Filling
the
agèd
wrinkles
in
my
cheeks
,
Be
pitiful
to
my
condemnèd
sons
,
Whose
souls
is
not
corrupted
as
’tis
thought
.
For
two-and-twenty
sons
I
never
wept
Because
they
died
in
honor’s
lofty
bed
.
Andronicus
lieth
down
,
and
the
Judges
pass
by
him
.
They
exit
with
the
prisoners
as
Titus
continues
speaking
.
For
these
,
tribunes
,
in
the
dust
I
write
My
heart’s
deep
languor
and
my
soul’s
sad
tears
.
Let
my
tears
stanch
the
earth’s
dry
appetite
.
My
sons’
sweet
blood
will
make
it
shame
and
blush
.
O
Earth
earth
,
I
will
befriend
thee
more
with
rain
That
shall
distil
from
these
two
ancient
ruins
Than
youthful
April
shall
with
all
his
showers
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
In
summer’s
drought
I’ll
drop
upon
thee
still
;
In
winter
with
warm
tears
I’ll
melt
the
snow
And
keep
eternal
springtime
on
thy
face
,
So
thou
refuse
to
drink
my
dear
sons’
blood
.
Enter
Lucius
with
his
weapon
drawn
.
O
reverend
tribunes
,
O
gentle
agèd
men
,
Unbind
my
sons
,
reverse
the
doom
of
death
,
And
let
me
say
,
that
never
wept
before
,
My
tears
are
now
prevailing
orators
.
O
noble
father
,
you
lament
in
vain
.
The
Tribunes
hear
you
not
;
no
man
is
by
,
And
you
recount
your
sorrows
to
a
stone
.
Ah
,
Lucius
,
for
thy
brothers
let
me
plead
.
—
Grave
tribunes
,
once
more
I
entreat
of
you
—
My
gracious
lord
,
no
tribune
hears
you
speak
.
Why
,
’tis
no
matter
,
man
.
If
they
did
hear
,
They
would
not
mark
me
;
if
they
did
mark
,
They
would
not
pity
me
.
Yet
plead
I
must
,
And
bootless
unto
them
.
Therefore
I
tell
my
sorrows
to
the
stones
,
Who
,
though
they
cannot
answer
my
distress
,
Yet
in
some
sort
they
are
better
than
the
Tribunes
,
For
that
they
will
not
intercept
my
tale
.
When
I
do
weep
,
they
humbly
at
my
feet
Receive
my
tears
and
seem
to
weep
with
me
,
And
were
they
but
attirèd
in
grave
weeds
,
Rome
could
afford
no
tribunes
like
to
these
.
A
stone
is
soft
as
wax
,
tribunes
more
hard
than
stones
;
A
stone
is
silent
and
offendeth
not
,
And
tribunes
with
their
tongues
doom
men
to
death
.
But
wherefore
stand’st
thou
with
thy
weapon
drawn
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
To
rescue
my
two
brothers
from
their
death
,
For
which
attempt
the
Judges
have
pronounced
My
everlasting
doom
of
banishment
.
,
rising
O
happy
man
,
they
have
befriended
thee
!
Why
,
foolish
Lucius
,
dost
thou
not
perceive
That
Rome
is
but
a
wilderness
of
tigers
?
Tigers
must
prey
,
and
Rome
affords
no
prey
But
me
and
mine
.
How
happy
art
thou
then
From
these
devourers
to
be
banishèd
.
But
who
comes
with
our
brother
Marcus
here
?
Enter
Marcus
with
Lavinia
.
Titus
,
prepare
thy
agèd
eyes
to
weep
,
Or
,
if
not
so
,
thy
noble
heart
to
break
.
I
bring
consuming
sorrow
to
thine
age
.
Will
it
consume
me
?
Let
me
see
it
,
then
.
This
was
thy
daughter
.
Why
,
Marcus
,
so
she
is
.
Ay
me
,
this
object
kills
me
!
Faint-hearted
boy
,
arise
and
look
upon
her
.
—
Speak
,
Lavinia
.
What
accursèd
hand
Hath
made
thee
handless
in
thy
father’s
sight
?
What
fool
hath
added
water
to
the
sea
Or
brought
a
faggot
to
bright-burning
Troy
?
My
grief
was
at
the
height
before
thou
cam’st
,
And
now
like
Nilus
it
disdaineth
bounds
.
—
Give
me
a
sword
.
I’ll
chop
off
my
hands
too
,
For
they
have
fought
for
Rome
and
all
in
vain
;
And
they
have
nursed
this
woe
in
feeding
life
;
ACT 3. SC. 1
In
bootless
prayer
have
they
been
held
up
,
And
they
have
served
me
to
effectless
use
.
Now
all
the
service
I
require
of
them
Is
that
the
one
will
help
to
cut
the
other
.
—
’Tis
well
,
Lavinia
,
that
thou
hast
no
hands
,
For
hands
to
do
Rome
service
is
but
vain
.
Speak
,
gentle
sister
.
Who
hath
martyred
thee
?
O
,
that
delightful
engine
of
her
thoughts
,
That
blabbed
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
.
It
was
my
dear
,
and
he
that
wounded
her
Hath
hurt
me
more
than
had
he
killed
me
dead
.
For
now
I
stand
as
one
upon
a
rock
,
Environed
with
a
wilderness
of
sea
,
Who
marks
the
waxing
tide
grow
wave
by
wave
,
Expecting
ever
when
some
envious
surge
Will
in
his
brinish
bowels
swallow
him
.
This
way
to
death
my
wretched
sons
are
gone
;
Here
stands
my
other
son
a
banished
man
,
And
here
my
brother
,
weeping
at
my
woes
.
But
that
which
gives
my
soul
the
greatest
spurn
Is
dear
Lavinia
,
dearer
than
my
soul
.
Had
I
but
seen
thy
picture
in
this
plight
It
would
have
madded
me
.
What
shall
I
do
,
Now
I
behold
thy
lively
body
so
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
Thou
hast
no
hands
to
wipe
away
thy
tears
,
Nor
tongue
to
tell
me
who
hath
martyred
thee
.
Thy
husband
he
is
dead
,
and
for
his
death
Thy
brothers
are
condemned
,
and
dead
by
this
.
—
Look
,
Marcus
!
—
Ah
,
son
Lucius
,
look
on
her
!
When
I
did
name
her
brothers
,
then
fresh
tears
Stood
on
her
cheeks
as
doth
the
honeydew
Upon
a
gathered
lily
almost
withered
.
Perchance
she
weeps
because
they
killed
her
husband
,
Perchance
because
she
knows
them
innocent
.
If
they
did
kill
thy
husband
,
then
be
joyful
,
Because
the
law
hath
ta’en
revenge
on
them
.
—
No
,
no
,
they
would
not
do
so
foul
a
deed
.
Witness
the
sorrow
that
their
sister
makes
.
—
Gentle
Lavinia
,
let
me
kiss
thy
lips
,
Or
make
some
sign
how
I
may
do
thee
ease
.
Shall
thy
good
uncle
and
thy
brother
Lucius
And
thou
and
I
sit
round
about
some
fountain
,
Looking
all
downwards
to
behold
our
cheeks
,
How
they
are
stained
like
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
Pass
the
remainder
of
our
hateful
days
?
What
shall
we
do
?
Let
us
that
have
our
tongues
Plot
some
device
of
further
misery
To
make
us
wondered
at
in
time
to
come
.
Sweet
father
,
cease
your
tears
,
for
at
your
grief
See
how
my
wretched
sister
sobs
and
weeps
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Patience
,
dear
niece
.
—
Good
Titus
,
dry
thine
eyes
.
Ah
,
Marcus
,
Marcus
!
Brother
,
well
I
wot
Thy
napkin
cannot
drink
a
tear
of
mine
,
For
thou
,
poor
man
,
hast
drowned
it
with
thine
own
.
Ah
,
my
Lavinia
,
I
will
wipe
thy
cheeks
.
Mark
,
Marcus
,
mark
.
I
understand
her
signs
.
Had
she
a
tongue
to
speak
,
now
would
she
say
That
to
her
brother
which
I
said
to
thee
.
His
napkin
,
with
his
true
tears
all
bewet
,
Can
do
no
service
on
her
sorrowful
cheeks
.
O
,
what
a
sympathy
of
woe
is
this
,
As
far
from
help
as
limbo
is
from
bliss
.
Enter
Aaron
the
Moor
alone
.
Titus
Andronicus
,
my
lord
the
Emperor
Sends
thee
this
word
,
that
if
thou
love
thy
sons
,
Let
Marcus
,
Lucius
,
or
thyself
,
old
Titus
,
Or
any
one
of
you
,
chop
off
your
hand
And
send
it
to
the
King
;
he
for
the
same
Will
send
thee
hither
both
thy
sons
alive
,
And
that
shall
be
the
ransom
for
their
fault
.
O
gracious
emperor
!
O
gentle
Aaron
!
Did
ever
raven
sing
so
like
a
lark
,
That
gives
sweet
tidings
of
the
sun’s
uprise
?
With
all
my
heart
I’ll
send
the
Emperor
my
hand
.
Good
Aaron
,
wilt
thou
help
to
chop
it
off
?
Stay
,
father
,
for
that
noble
hand
of
thine
,
That
hath
thrown
down
so
many
enemies
,
Shall
not
be
sent
.
My
hand
will
serve
the
turn
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
My
youth
can
better
spare
my
blood
than
you
,
And
therefore
mine
shall
save
my
brothers’
lives
.
Which
of
your
hands
hath
not
defended
Rome
And
reared
aloft
the
bloody
battleax
,
Writing
destruction
on
the
enemy’s
castle
?
O
,
none
of
both
but
are
of
high
desert
.
My
hand
hath
been
but
idle
;
let
it
serve
To
ransom
my
two
nephews
from
their
death
.
Then
have
I
kept
it
to
a
worthy
end
.
Nay
,
come
,
agree
whose
hand
shall
go
along
,
For
fear
they
die
before
their
pardon
come
.
My
hand
shall
go
.
By
heaven
,
it
shall
not
go
!
Sirs
,
strive
no
more
.
Such
withered
herbs
as
these
Are
meet
for
plucking
up
,
and
therefore
mine
.
Sweet
father
,
if
I
shall
be
thought
thy
son
,
Let
me
redeem
my
brothers
both
from
death
.
And
for
our
father’s
sake
and
mother’s
care
,
Now
let
me
show
a
brother’s
love
to
thee
.
Agree
between
you
.
I
will
spare
my
hand
.
Then
I’ll
go
fetch
an
ax
.
But
I
will
use
the
ax
.
Lucius
and
Marcus
exit
.
Come
hither
,
Aaron
.
I’ll
deceive
them
both
.
Lend
me
thy
hand
,
and
I
will
give
thee
mine
.
,
aside
If
that
be
called
deceit
,
I
will
be
honest
And
never
whilst
I
live
deceive
men
so
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
But
I’ll
deceive
you
in
another
sort
,
And
that
you’ll
say
ere
half
an
hour
pass
.
He
cuts
off
Titus’
hand
.
Enter
Lucius
and
Marcus
again
.
Now
stay
your
strife
.
What
shall
be
is
dispatched
.
—
Good
Aaron
,
give
his
Majesty
my
hand
.
Tell
him
it
was
a
hand
that
warded
him
From
thousand
dangers
.
Bid
him
bury
it
.
More
hath
it
merited
;
that
let
it
have
.
As
for
my
sons
,
say
I
account
of
them
As
jewels
purchased
at
an
easy
price
,
And
yet
dear
,
too
,
because
I
bought
mine
own
.
I
go
,
Andronicus
,
and
for
thy
hand
Look
by
and
by
to
have
thy
sons
with
thee
.
Aside
.
Their
heads
,
I
mean
.
O
,
how
this
villainy
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
.
He
exits
.
O
,
here
I
lift
this
one
hand
up
to
heaven
,
And
bow
this
feeble
ruin
to
the
earth
.
He
kneels
.
If
any
power
pities
wretched
tears
,
To
that
I
call
.
(
Lavinia
kneels
.
)
What
,
wouldst
thou
kneel
with
me
?
Do
,
then
,
dear
heart
,
for
heaven
shall
hear
our
prayers
,
Or
with
our
sighs
we’ll
breathe
the
welkin
dim
And
stain
the
sun
with
fog
,
as
sometime
clouds
When
they
do
hug
him
in
their
melting
bosoms
.
O
brother
,
speak
with
possibility
,
And
do
not
break
into
these
deep
extremes
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Is
not
my
sorrow
deep
,
having
no
bottom
?
Then
be
my
passions
bottomless
with
them
.
But
yet
let
reason
govern
thy
lament
.
If
there
were
reason
for
these
miseries
,
Then
into
limits
could
I
bind
my
woes
.
When
heaven
doth
weep
,
doth
not
the
Earth
earth
o’erflow
?
If
the
winds
rage
,
doth
not
the
sea
wax
mad
,
Threat’ning
the
welkin
with
his
big-swoll’n
face
?
And
wilt
thou
have
a
reason
for
this
coil
?
I
am
the
sea
.
Hark
how
her
sighs
doth
flow
!
She
is
the
weeping
welkin
,
I
the
Earth
earth
.
Then
must
my
sea
be
movèd
with
her
sighs
;
Then
must
my
Earth
earth
with
her
continual
tears
Become
a
deluge
,
overflowed
and
drowned
,
Forwhy
my
bowels
cannot
hide
her
woes
But
like
a
drunkard
must
I
vomit
them
.
Then
give
me
leave
,
for
losers
will
have
leave
To
ease
their
stomachs
with
their
bitter
tongues
.
Enter
a
Messenger
with
two
heads
and
a
hand
.
Worthy
Andronicus
,
ill
art
thou
repaid
For
that
good
hand
thou
sent’st
the
Emperor
.
Here
are
the
heads
of
thy
two
noble
sons
,
And
here’s
thy
hand
in
scorn
to
thee
sent
back
.
Thy
grief
their
sports
,
thy
resolution
mocked
,
That
woe
is
me
to
think
upon
thy
woes
More
than
remembrance
of
my
father’s
death
.
He
exits
.
Now
let
hot
Etna
cool
in
Sicily
,
And
be
my
heart
an
everburning
hell
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
These
miseries
are
more
than
may
be
borne
.
To
weep
with
them
that
weep
doth
ease
some
deal
,
But
sorrow
flouted
at
is
double
death
.
Ah
,
that
this
sight
should
make
so
deep
a
wound
And
yet
detested
life
not
shrink
thereat
!
That
ever
death
should
let
life
bear
his
name
,
Where
life
hath
no
more
interest
but
to
breathe
.
Lavinia
kisses
Titus
.
Alas
,
poor
heart
,
that
kiss
is
comfortless
As
frozen
water
to
a
starvèd
snake
.
When
will
this
fearful
slumber
have
an
end
?
Now
farewell
,
flatt’ry
;
die
,
Andronicus
.
Thou
dost
not
slumber
.
See
thy
two
sons’
heads
,
Thy
warlike
hand
,
thy
mangled
daughter
here
,
Thy
other
banished
son
with
this
dear
sight
Struck
pale
and
bloodless
;
and
thy
brother
,
I
,
Even
like
a
stony
image
cold
and
numb
.
Ah
,
now
no
more
will
I
control
thy
griefs
.
Rent
off
thy
silver
hair
,
thy
other
hand
,
Gnawing
with
thy
teeth
,
and
be
this
dismal
sight
The
closing
up
of
our
most
wretched
eyes
.
Now
is
a
time
to
storm
.
Why
art
thou
still
?
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
Why
dost
thou
laugh
?
It
fits
not
with
this
hour
.
Titus
and
Lavinia
rise
.
Why
,
I
have
not
another
tear
to
shed
.
Besides
,
this
sorrow
is
an
enemy
And
would
usurp
upon
my
wat’ry
eyes
And
make
them
blind
with
tributary
tears
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Then
which
way
shall
I
find
Revenge’s
cave
?
For
these
two
heads
do
seem
to
speak
to
me
And
threat
me
I
shall
never
come
to
bliss
Till
all
these
mischiefs
be
returned
again
Even
in
their
throats
that
hath
committed
them
.
Come
,
let
me
see
what
task
I
have
to
do
.
You
heavy
people
,
circle
me
about
That
I
may
turn
me
to
each
one
of
you
And
swear
unto
my
soul
to
right
your
wrongs
.
The
vow
is
made
.
Come
,
brother
,
take
a
head
,
And
in
this
hand
the
other
will
I
bear
.
—
And
,
Lavinia
,
thou
shalt
be
employed
in
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
.
And
if
you
love
me
,
as
I
think
you
do
,
Let’s
kiss
and
part
,
for
we
have
much
to
do
.
All
but
Lucius
exit
.
Farewell
,
Andronicus
,
my
noble
father
,
The
woefull’st
man
that
ever
lived
in
Rome
.
Farewell
,
proud
Rome
,
till
Lucius
come
again
.
He
loves
his
pledges
dearer
than
his
life
.
Farewell
,
Lavinia
,
my
noble
sister
.
O
,
would
thou
wert
as
thou
tofore
hast
been
!
But
now
nor
Lucius
nor
Lavinia
lives
But
in
oblivion
and
hateful
griefs
.
If
Lucius
live
he
will
requite
your
wrongs
And
make
proud
Saturnine
and
his
empress
Beg
at
the
gates
like
Tarquin
and
his
queen
.
Now
will
I
to
the
Goths
and
raise
a
power
To
be
revenged
on
Rome
and
Saturnine
.
Lucius
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Scene
2
A
banquet
.
Enter
Titus
Andronicus
,
Marcus
,
Lavinia
,
and
the
boy
Young
Lucius
,
with
Servants
.
So
,
so
.
Now
sit
,
and
look
you
eat
no
more
Than
will
preserve
just
so
much
strength
in
us
As
will
revenge
these
bitter
woes
of
ours
.
Marcus
,
unknit
that
sorrow-wreathen
knot
.
Thy
niece
and
I
,
poor
creatures
,
want
our
hands
And
cannot
passionate
our
tenfold
grief
With
folded
arms
.
This
poor
right
hand
of
mine
Is
left
to
tyrannize
upon
my
breast
,
Who
,
when
my
heart
,
all
mad
with
misery
,
Beats
in
this
hollow
prison
of
my
flesh
,
Then
thus
I
thump
it
down
.
—
Thou
map
of
woe
,
that
thus
dost
talk
in
signs
,
When
thy
poor
heart
beats
with
outrageous
beating
,
Thou
canst
not
strike
it
thus
to
make
it
still
.
Wound
it
with
sighing
,
girl
,
kill
it
with
groans
;
Or
get
some
little
knife
between
thy
teeth
And
just
against
thy
heart
make
thou
a
hole
,
That
all
the
tears
that
thy
poor
eyes
let
fall
May
run
into
that
sink
and
,
soaking
in
,
Drown
the
lamenting
fool
in
sea-salt
tears
.
Fie
,
brother
,
fie
!
Teach
her
not
thus
to
lay
Such
violent
hands
upon
her
tender
life
.
How
now
!
Has
sorrow
made
thee
dote
already
?
Why
,
Marcus
,
no
man
should
be
mad
but
I
.
What
violent
hands
can
she
lay
on
her
life
?
Ah
,
wherefore
dost
thou
urge
the
name
of
hands
,
To
bid
Aeneas
tell
the
tale
twice
o’er
How
Troy
was
burnt
and
he
made
miserable
?
O
,
handle
not
the
theme
,
to
talk
of
hands
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
Lest
we
remember
still
that
we
have
none
.
—
Fie
,
fie
,
how
franticly
I
square
my
talk
,
As
if
we
should
forget
we
had
no
hands
If
Marcus
did
not
name
the
word
of
hands
!
Come
,
let’s
fall
to
,
and
,
gentle
girl
,
eat
this
.
Here
is
no
drink
!
—
Hark
,
Marcus
,
what
she
says
.
I
can
interpret
all
her
martyred
signs
.
She
says
she
drinks
no
other
drink
but
tears
Brewed
with
her
sorrow
,
mashed
upon
her
cheeks
.
—
Speechless
complainer
,
I
will
learn
thy
thought
.
In
thy
dumb
action
will
I
be
as
perfect
As
begging
hermits
in
their
holy
prayers
.
Thou
shalt
not
sigh
,
nor
hold
thy
stumps
to
heaven
,
Nor
wink
,
nor
nod
,
nor
kneel
,
nor
make
a
sign
,
But
I
of
these
will
wrest
an
alphabet
And
by
still
practice
learn
to
know
thy
meaning
.
,
weeping
Good
grandsire
,
leave
these
bitter
deep
laments
.
Make
my
aunt
merry
with
some
pleasing
tale
.
Alas
,
the
tender
boy
,
in
passion
moved
,
Doth
weep
to
see
his
grandsire’s
heaviness
.
Peace
,
tender
sapling
.
Thou
art
made
of
tears
,
And
tears
will
quickly
melt
thy
life
away
.
Marcus
strikes
the
dish
with
a
knife
.
What
dost
thou
strike
at
,
Marcus
,
with
thy
knife
?
At
that
that
I
have
killed
,
my
lord
,
a
fly
.
Out
on
thee
,
murderer
!
Thou
kill’st
my
heart
.
Mine
eyes
are
cloyed
with
view
of
tyranny
;
A
deed
of
death
done
on
the
innocent
Becomes
not
Titus’
brother
.
Get
thee
gone
.
I
see
thou
art
not
for
my
company
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Alas
,
my
lord
,
I
have
but
killed
a
fly
.
But
?
How
if
that
fly
had
a
father
and
mother
?
How
would
he
hang
his
slender
gilded
wings
And
buzz
lamenting
doings
in
the
air
!
Poor
harmless
fly
,
That
,
with
his
pretty
buzzing
melody
,
Came
here
to
make
us
merry
!
And
thou
hast
killed
him
.
Pardon
me
,
sir
.
It
was
a
black
,
ill-favored
fly
,
Like
to
the
Empress’
Moor
.
Therefore
I
killed
him
.
O
,
O
,
O
!
Then
pardon
me
for
reprehending
thee
,
For
thou
hast
done
a
charitable
deed
.
Give
me
thy
knife
.
I
will
insult
on
him
,
Flattering
myself
as
if
it
were
the
Moor
Come
hither
purposely
to
poison
me
.
There’s
for
thyself
,
and
that’s
for
Tamora
.
Ah
,
sirrah
!
Yet
I
think
we
are
not
brought
so
low
But
that
between
us
we
can
kill
a
fly
That
comes
in
likeness
of
a
coal-black
coalblack
Moor
.
Alas
,
poor
man
,
grief
has
so
wrought
on
him
He
takes
false
shadows
for
true
substances
.
Come
,
take
away
.
—
Lavinia
,
go
with
me
.
I’ll
to
thy
closet
and
go
read
with
thee
Sad
stories
chancèd
in
the
times
of
old
.
—
Come
,
boy
,
and
go
with
me
.
Thy
sight
is
young
,
And
thou
shalt
read
when
mine
begin
to
dazzle
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
Lucius’
son
and
Lavinia
running
after
him
,
and
the
boy
flies
from
her
with
his
books
under
his
arm
.
Enter
Titus
and
Marcus
.
Help
,
grandsire
,
help
!
My
aunt
Lavinia
Follows
me
everywhere
,
I
know
not
why
.
—
Good
uncle
Marcus
,
see
how
swift
she
comes
!
—
Alas
,
sweet
aunt
,
I
know
not
what
you
mean
.
Stand
by
me
,
Lucius
.
Do
not
fear
thine
aunt
.
She
loves
thee
,
boy
,
too
well
to
do
thee
harm
.
Ay
,
when
my
father
was
in
Rome
she
did
.
What
means
my
niece
Lavinia
by
these
signs
?
Fear
her
not
,
Lucius
.
Somewhat
doth
she
mean
.
See
,
Lucius
,
see
,
how
much
she
makes
of
thee
.
Somewhither
would
she
have
thee
go
with
her
.
Ah
,
boy
,
Cornelia
never
with
more
care
Read
to
her
sons
than
she
hath
read
to
thee
Sweet
poetry
and
Tully’s
Orator
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Canst
thou
not
guess
wherefore
she
plies
thee
thus
?
My
lord
,
I
know
not
,
I
,
nor
can
I
guess
,
Unless
some
fit
or
frenzy
do
possess
her
;
For
I
have
heard
my
grandsire
say
full
oft
,
Extremity
of
griefs
would
make
men
mad
,
And
I
have
read
that
Hecuba
of
Troy
Ran
mad
for
sorrow
.
That
made
me
to
fear
,
Although
,
my
lord
,
I
know
my
noble
aunt
Loves
me
as
dear
as
e’er
my
mother
did
,
And
would
not
but
in
fury
fright
my
youth
,
Which
made
me
down
to
throw
my
books
and
fly
,
Causeless
,
perhaps
.
—
But
pardon
me
,
sweet
aunt
.
And
,
madam
,
if
my
uncle
Marcus
go
,
I
will
most
willingly
attend
your
Ladyship
.
Lucius
,
I
will
.
How
now
,
Lavinia
?
—
Marcus
,
what
means
this
?
Some
book
there
is
that
she
desires
to
see
.
—
Which
is
it
,
girl
,
of
these
?
—
Open
them
,
boy
.
—
To
Lavinia
.
But
thou
art
deeper
read
and
better
skilled
.
Come
and
take
choice
of
all
my
library
,
And
so
beguile
thy
sorrow
till
the
heavens
Reveal
the
damned
contriver
of
this
deed
.
—
Why
lifts
she
up
her
arms
in
sequence
thus
?
I
think
she
means
that
there
were
more
than
one
Confederate
in
the
fact
.
Ay
,
more
there
was
,
Or
else
to
heaven
she
heaves
them
for
revenge
.
Lucius
,
what
book
is
that
she
tosseth
so
?
Grandsire
,
’tis
Ovid’s
Metamorphosis
.
My
mother
gave
it
me
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
For
love
of
her
that’s
gone
,
Perhaps
,
she
culled
it
from
among
the
rest
.
Soft
!
So
busily
she
turns
the
leaves
.
Help
her
!
What
would
she
find
?
—
Lavinia
,
shall
I
read
?
This
is
the
tragic
tale
of
Philomel
,
And
treats
of
Tereus’
treason
and
his
rape
.
And
rape
,
I
fear
,
was
root
of
thy
annoy
.
See
,
brother
,
see
!
Note
how
she
quotes
the
leaves
.
Lavinia
,
wert
thou
thus
surprised
,
sweet
girl
,
Ravished
and
wronged
as
Philomela
was
,
Forced
in
the
ruthless
,
vast
,
and
gloomy
woods
?
See
,
see
!
Ay
,
such
a
place
there
is
where
we
did
hunt
—
O
,
had
we
never
,
never
hunted
there
!
—
Patterned
by
that
the
poet
here
describes
,
By
nature
made
for
murders
and
for
rapes
.
O
,
why
should
nature
build
so
foul
a
den
,
Unless
the
gods
delight
in
tragedies
?
Give
signs
,
sweet
girl
,
for
here
are
none
but
friends
,
What
Roman
lord
it
was
durst
do
the
deed
.
Or
slunk
not
Saturnine
,
as
Tarquin
erst
,
That
left
the
camp
to
sin
in
Lucrece’
bed
?
Sit
down
,
sweet
niece
.
—
Brother
,
sit
down
by
me
.
They
sit
.
Apollo
,
Pallas
,
Jove
,
or
Mercury
Inspire
me
,
that
I
may
this
treason
find
.
—
My
lord
,
look
here
.
—
Look
here
,
Lavinia
.
He
writes
his
name
with
his
staff
and
guides
it
with
feet
and
mouth
.
This
sandy
plot
is
plain
;
guide
,
if
thou
canst
,
This
after
me
.
I
have
writ
my
name
ACT 4. SC. 1
Without
the
help
of
any
hand
at
all
.
Cursed
be
that
heart
that
forced
us
to
this
shift
!
Write
thou
,
good
niece
,
and
here
display
at
last
What
God
will
have
discovered
for
revenge
.
Heaven
guide
thy
pen
to
print
thy
sorrows
plain
,
That
we
may
know
the
traitors
and
the
truth
.
She
takes
the
staff
in
her
mouth
,
and
guides
it
with
her
stumps
and
writes
.
O
,
do
you
read
,
my
lord
,
what
she
hath
writ
?
Stuprum
.
Chiron
,
Demetrius
.
What
,
what
!
The
lustful
sons
of
Tamora
Performers
of
this
heinous
,
bloody
deed
?
Magni
Dominator
poli
,
Tam
lentus
audis
scelera
,
tam
lentus
vides
?
O
,
calm
thee
,
gentle
lord
,
although
I
know
There
is
enough
written
upon
this
earth
To
stir
a
mutiny
in
the
mildest
thoughts
And
arm
the
minds
of
infants
to
exclaims
.
My
lord
,
kneel
down
with
me
.
—
Lavinia
,
kneel
.
—
And
kneel
,
sweet
boy
,
the
Roman
Hector’s
hope
,
They
all
kneel
.
And
swear
with
me
—
as
,
with
the
woeful
fere
And
father
of
that
chaste
dishonored
dame
,
Lord
Junius
Brutus
swore
for
Lucrece’
rape
—
That
we
will
prosecute
by
good
advice
Mortal
revenge
upon
these
traitorous
Goths
,
And
see
their
blood
or
die
with
this
reproach
.
They
rise
.
’Tis
sure
enough
,
an
you
knew
how
.
But
if
you
hunt
these
bearwhelps
,
then
beware
;
The
dam
will
wake
an
if
she
wind
you
once
.
She’s
with
the
lion
deeply
still
in
league
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
And
lulls
him
whilst
she
playeth
on
her
back
;
And
when
he
sleeps
will
she
do
what
she
list
.
You
are
a
young
huntsman
,
Marcus
;
let
alone
.
And
come
,
I
will
go
get
a
leaf
of
brass
,
And
with
a
gad
of
steel
will
write
these
words
,
And
lay
it
by
.
The
angry
northern
wind
Will
blow
these
sands
like
Sibyl’s
leaves
abroad
,
And
where’s
our
lesson
then
?
—
Boy
,
what
say
you
?
I
say
,
my
lord
,
that
if
I
were
a
man
,
Their
mother’s
bedchamber
should
not
be
safe
For
these
base
bondmen
to
the
yoke
of
Rome
.
Ay
,
that’s
my
boy
!
Thy
father
hath
full
oft
For
his
ungrateful
country
done
the
like
.
And
,
uncle
,
so
will
I
,
an
if
I
live
.
Come
,
go
with
me
into
mine
armory
.
Lucius
,
I’ll
fit
thee
,
and
withal
my
boy
Shall
carry
from
me
to
the
Empress’
sons
Presents
that
I
intend
to
send
them
both
.
Come
,
come
.
Thou
’lt
do
my
message
,
wilt
thou
not
?
Ay
,
with
my
dagger
in
their
bosoms
,
grandsire
.
No
,
boy
,
not
so
.
I’ll
teach
thee
another
course
.
—
Lavinia
,
come
.
—
Marcus
,
look
to
my
house
.
Lucius
and
I’ll
go
brave
it
at
the
court
;
Ay
,
marry
,
will
we
,
sir
,
and
we’ll
be
waited
on
.
All
but
Marcus
exit
.
O
heavens
,
can
you
hear
a
good
man
groan
And
not
relent
,
or
not
compassion
him
?
Marcus
,
attend
him
in
his
ecstasy
,
That
hath
more
scars
of
sorrow
in
his
heart
ACT 4. SC. 2
Than
foemen’s
marks
upon
his
battered
shield
,
But
yet
so
just
that
he
will
not
revenge
.
Revenge
the
heavens
for
old
Andronicus
!
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
Aaron
,
Chiron
,
and
Demetrius
at
one
door
,
and
at
the
other
door
young
Lucius
and
another
,
with
a
bundle
of
weapons
and
verses
writ
upon
them
.
Demetrius
,
here’s
the
son
of
Lucius
.
He
hath
some
message
to
deliver
us
.
Ay
,
some
mad
message
from
his
mad
grandfather
.
My
lords
,
with
all
the
humbleness
I
may
,
I
greet
your
Honors
from
Andronicus
—
Aside
.
And
pray
the
Roman
gods
confound
you
both
.
Gramercy
,
lovely
Lucius
.
What’s
the
news
?
,
aside
That
you
are
both
deciphered
,
that’s
the
news
,
For
villains
marked
with
rape
.
—
May
it
please
you
,
My
grandsire
,
well
advised
,
hath
sent
by
me
The
goodliest
weapons
of
his
armory
To
gratify
your
honorable
youth
,
The
hope
of
Rome
;
for
so
he
bid
me
say
,
And
so
I
do
,
and
with
his
gifts
present
Your
Lordships
,
that
,
whenever
you
have
need
,
You
may
be
armèd
and
appointed
well
,
And
so
I
leave
you
both
—
(
aside
)
like
bloody
villains
.
He
exits
,
with
Attendant
.
What’s
here
?
A
scroll
,
and
written
round
about
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Let’s
see
:
He
reads
:
Integer
vitae
,
scelerisque
purus
,
Non
eget
Mauri
iaculis
,
nec
arcu
.
O
,
’tis
a
verse
in
Horace
;
I
know
it
well
.
I
read
it
in
the
grammar
long
ago
.
Ay
,
just
;
a
verse
in
Horace
;
right
,
you
have
it
.
Aside
.
Now
,
what
a
thing
it
is
to
be
an
ass
!
Here’s
no
sound
jest
.
The
old
man
hath
found
their
guilt
And
sends
them
weapons
wrapped
about
with
lines
That
wound
,
beyond
their
feeling
,
to
the
quick
.
But
were
our
witty
empress
well
afoot
,
She
would
applaud
Andronicus’
conceit
.
But
let
her
rest
in
her
unrest
awhile
.
—
And
now
,
young
lords
,
was
’t
not
a
happy
star
Led
us
to
Rome
,
strangers
,
and
,
more
than
so
,
Captives
,
to
be
advancèd
to
this
height
?
It
did
me
good
before
the
palace
gate
To
brave
the
tribune
in
his
brother’s
hearing
.
But
me
more
good
to
see
so
great
a
lord
Basely
insinuate
and
send
us
gifts
.
Had
he
not
reason
,
Lord
Demetrius
?
Did
you
not
use
his
daughter
very
friendly
?
I
would
we
had
a
thousand
Roman
dames
At
such
a
bay
,
by
turn
to
serve
our
lust
.
A
charitable
wish
,
and
full
of
love
!
Here
lacks
but
your
mother
for
to
say
amen
.
And
that
would
she
,
for
twenty
thousand
more
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Come
,
let
us
go
and
pray
to
all
the
gods
For
our
belovèd
mother
in
her
pains
.
,
aside
Pray
to
the
devils
;
the
gods
have
given
us
over
.
Trumpets
sound
offstage
.
Why
do
the
Emperor’s
trumpets
flourish
thus
?
Belike
for
joy
the
Emperor
hath
a
son
.
Soft
,
who
comes
here
?
Enter
Nurse
,
with
a
blackamoor
child
in
her
arms
.
Good
morrow
,
lords
.
O
,
tell
me
,
did
you
see
Aaron
the
Moor
?
Well
,
more
or
less
,
or
ne’er
a
whit
at
all
,
Here
Aaron
is
.
And
what
with
Aaron
now
?
O
,
gentle
Aaron
,
we
are
all
undone
!
Now
help
,
or
woe
betide
thee
evermore
.
Why
,
what
a
caterwauling
dost
thou
keep
!
What
dost
thou
wrap
and
fumble
in
thy
arms
?
O
,
that
which
I
would
hide
from
heaven’s
eye
,
Our
empress’
shame
and
stately
Rome’s
disgrace
.
She
is
delivered
,
lords
,
she
is
delivered
.
To
whom
?
I
mean
,
she
is
brought
abed
.
Well
,
God
give
her
good
rest
.
What
hath
he
sent
her
?
A
devil
.
Why
,
then
she
is
the
devil’s
dam
.
A
joyful
issue
!
ACT 4. SC. 2
A
joyless
,
dismal
,
black
,
and
sorrowful
issue
!
Here
is
the
babe
,
as
loathsome
as
a
toad
Amongst
the
fair-faced
breeders
of
our
clime
.
The
Empress
sends
it
thee
,
thy
stamp
,
thy
seal
,
And
bids
thee
christen
it
with
thy
dagger’s
point
.
Zounds
,
you
whore
,
is
black
so
base
a
hue
?
To
the
baby
.
Sweet
blowse
,
you
are
a
beauteous
blossom
,
sure
.
Villain
,
what
hast
thou
done
?
That
which
thou
canst
not
undo
.
Thou
hast
undone
our
mother
.
Villain
,
I
have
done
thy
mother
.
And
therein
,
hellish
dog
,
thou
hast
undone
her
.
Woe
to
her
chance
,
and
damned
her
loathèd
choice
!
Accursed
the
offspring
of
so
foul
a
fiend
!
It
shall
not
live
.
It
shall
not
die
.
Aaron
,
it
must
.
The
mother
wills
it
so
.
What
,
must
it
,
nurse
?
Then
let
no
man
but
I
Do
execution
on
my
flesh
and
blood
.
I’ll
broach
the
tadpole
on
my
rapier’s
point
.
Nurse
,
give
it
me
.
My
sword
shall
soon
dispatch
it
.
,
taking
the
baby
Sooner
this
sword
shall
plow
thy
bowels
up
!
Stay
,
murderous
villains
,
will
you
kill
your
brother
?
Now
,
by
the
burning
tapers
of
the
sky
That
shone
so
brightly
when
this
boy
was
got
,
He
dies
upon
my
scimitar’s
sharp
point
That
touches
this
my
firstborn
son
and
heir
.
I
tell
you
,
younglings
,
not
Enceladus
ACT 4. SC. 2
With
all
his
threat’ning
band
of
Typhon’s
brood
,
Nor
great
Alcides
,
nor
the
god
of
war
Shall
seize
this
prey
out
of
his
father’s
hands
.
What
,
what
,
you
sanguine
,
shallow-hearted
boys
,
You
white-limed
walls
,
you
alehouse
painted
signs
!
Coal-black
black
is
better
than
another
hue
In
that
it
scorns
to
bear
another
hue
;
For
all
the
water
in
the
ocean
Can
never
turn
the
swan’s
black
legs
to
white
,
Although
she
lave
them
hourly
in
the
flood
.
Tell
the
Empress
from
me
,
I
am
of
age
To
keep
mine
own
,
excuse
it
how
she
can
.
Wilt
thou
betray
thy
noble
mistress
thus
?
My
mistress
is
my
mistress
,
this
myself
,
The
vigor
and
the
picture
of
my
youth
.
This
before
all
the
world
do
I
prefer
;
This
maugre
all
the
world
will
I
keep
safe
,
Or
some
of
you
shall
smoke
for
it
in
Rome
.
By
this
our
mother
is
forever
shamed
.
Rome
will
despise
her
for
this
foul
escape
.
The
Emperor
in
his
rage
will
doom
her
death
.
I
blush
to
think
upon
this
ignomy
.
Why
,
there’s
the
privilege
your
beauty
bears
.
Fie
,
treacherous
hue
,
that
will
betray
with
blushing
The
close
enacts
and
counsels
of
thy
heart
.
Here’s
a
young
lad
framed
of
another
leer
.
Look
how
the
black
slave
smiles
upon
the
father
,
As
who
should
say
Old
lad
,
I
am
thine
own
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
He
is
your
brother
,
lords
,
sensibly
fed
Of
that
self
blood
that
first
gave
life
to
you
,
And
from
that
womb
where
you
imprisoned
were
He
is
enfranchisèd
and
come
to
light
.
Nay
,
he
is
your
brother
by
the
surer
side
,
Although
my
seal
be
stampèd
in
his
face
.
Aaron
,
what
shall
I
say
unto
the
Empress
?
Advise
thee
,
Aaron
,
what
is
to
be
done
,
And
we
will
all
subscribe
to
thy
advice
.
Save
thou
the
child
,
so
we
may
all
be
safe
.
Then
sit
we
down
,
and
let
us
all
consult
.
My
son
and
I
will
have
the
wind
of
you
.
Keep
there
.
Now
talk
at
pleasure
of
your
safety
.
,
to
the
Nurse
How
many
women
saw
this
child
of
his
?
Why
,
so
,
brave
lords
!
When
we
join
in
league
,
I
am
a
lamb
;
but
if
you
brave
the
Moor
,
The
chafèd
boar
,
the
mountain
lioness
,
The
ocean
swells
not
so
as
Aaron
storms
.
To
the
Nurse
.
But
say
again
,
how
many
saw
the
child
?
Cornelia
the
midwife
and
myself
,
And
no
one
else
but
the
delivered
Empress
.
The
Empress
,
the
midwife
,
and
yourself
.
Two
may
keep
counsel
when
the
third’s
away
.
Go
to
the
Empress
;
tell
her
this
I
said
.
He
kills
her
.
Wheak
,
wheak
!
So
cries
a
pig
preparèd
to
the
spit
.
What
mean’st
thou
,
Aaron
?
Wherefore
didst
thou
this
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
O
Lord
,
sir
,
’tis
a
deed
of
policy
.
Shall
she
live
to
betray
this
guilt
of
ours
,
A
long-tongued
babbling
gossip
?
No
,
lords
,
no
.
And
now
be
it
known
to
you
my
full
intent
:
Not
far
one
Muliteus
my
countryman
His
wife
but
yesternight
was
brought
to
bed
.
His
child
is
like
to
her
,
fair
as
you
are
.
Go
pack
with
him
,
and
give
the
mother
gold
,
And
tell
them
both
the
circumstance
of
all
,
And
how
by
this
their
child
shall
be
advanced
And
be
receivèd
for
the
Emperor’s
heir
,
And
substituted
in
the
place
of
mine
,
To
calm
this
tempest
whirling
in
the
court
;
And
let
the
Emperor
dandle
him
for
his
own
.
Hark
you
,
lords
,
you
see
I
have
given
her
physic
,
indicating
the
Nurse
And
you
must
needs
bestow
her
funeral
.
The
fields
are
near
,
and
you
are
gallant
grooms
.
This
done
,
see
that
you
take
no
longer
days
,
But
send
the
midwife
presently
to
me
.
The
midwife
and
the
nurse
well
made
away
,
Then
let
the
ladies
tattle
what
they
please
.
Aaron
,
I
see
thou
wilt
not
trust
the
air
With
secrets
.
For
this
care
of
Tamora
,
Herself
and
hers
are
highly
bound
to
thee
.
Demetrius
and
Chiron
exit
,
carrying
the
Nurse’s
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-lipped
slave
,
I’ll
bear
you
hence
,
ACT 4. SC. 3
For
it
is
you
that
puts
us
to
our
shifts
.
I’ll
make
you
feed
on
berries
and
on
roots
,
And
feed
on
curds
and
whey
,
and
suck
the
goat
,
And
cabin
in
a
cave
,
and
bring
you
up
To
be
a
warrior
and
command
a
camp
.
He
exits
with
the
baby
.
Scene
3
Enter
Titus
,
old
Marcus
,
his
son
Publius
,
young
Lucius
,
and
other
gentlemen
(
Caius
and
Sempronius
)
with
bows
,
and
Titus
bears
the
arrows
with
letters
on
the
ends
of
them
.
Come
,
Marcus
,
come
.
Kinsmen
,
this
is
the
way
.
—
Sir
boy
,
let
me
see
your
archery
.
Look
you
draw
home
enough
and
’tis
there
straight
.
—
Terras
Astraea
reliquit
.
Be
you
remembered
,
Marcus
,
she’s
gone
,
she’s
fled
.
—
Sirs
,
take
you
to
your
tools
.
You
,
cousins
,
shall
Go
sound
the
ocean
and
cast
your
nets
;
Happily
you
may
catch
her
in
the
sea
;
Yet
there’s
as
little
justice
as
at
land
.
No
;
Publius
and
Sempronius
,
you
must
do
it
.
’Tis
you
must
dig
with
mattock
and
with
spade
,
And
pierce
the
inmost
center
of
the
Earth
earth
.
Then
,
when
you
come
to
Pluto’s
region
,
I
pray
you
,
deliver
him
this
petition
.
Tell
him
it
is
for
justice
and
for
aid
,
And
that
it
comes
from
old
Andronicus
,
Shaken
with
sorrows
in
ungrateful
Rome
.
Ah
,
Rome
!
Well
,
well
,
I
made
thee
miserable
What
time
I
threw
the
people’s
suffrages
On
him
that
thus
doth
tyrannize
o’er
me
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
Go
,
get
you
gone
,
and
pray
be
careful
all
,
And
leave
you
not
a
man-of-war
unsearched
.
This
wicked
emperor
may
have
shipped
her
hence
,
And
,
kinsmen
,
then
we
may
go
pipe
for
justice
.
O
Publius
,
is
not
this
a
heavy
case
To
see
thy
noble
uncle
thus
distract
?
Therefore
,
my
lords
,
it
highly
us
concerns
By
day
and
night
t’
attend
him
carefully
,
And
feed
his
humor
kindly
as
we
may
,
Till
time
beget
some
careful
remedy
.
Kinsmen
,
his
sorrows
are
past
remedy
But
Join
with
the
Goths
,
and
with
revengeful
war
Take
wreak
on
Rome
for
this
ingratitude
,
And
vengeance
on
the
traitor
Saturnine
.
Publius
,
how
now
?
How
now
,
my
masters
?
What
,
have
you
met
with
her
?
No
,
my
good
lord
,
but
Pluto
sends
you
word
,
If
you
will
have
Revenge
from
hell
,
you
shall
.
Marry
,
for
Justice
,
she
is
so
employed
,
He
thinks
,
with
Jove
in
heaven
,
or
somewhere
else
,
So
that
perforce
you
must
needs
stay
a
time
.
He
doth
me
wrong
to
feed
me
with
delays
.
I’ll
dive
into
the
burning
lake
below
And
pull
her
out
of
Acheron
by
the
heels
.
Marcus
,
we
are
but
shrubs
,
no
cedars
we
,
No
big-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
;
ACT 4. SC. 3
And
sith
there’s
no
justice
in
Earth
earth
nor
hell
,
We
will
solicit
heaven
and
move
the
gods
To
send
down
Justice
for
to
wreak
our
wrongs
.
Come
,
to
this
gear
.
You
are
a
good
archer
,
Marcus
.
He
gives
them
the
arrows
.
Ad
Jovem
,
that’s
for
you
;
—
here
,
Ad
Apollinem
;
—
Ad
Martem
,
that’s
for
myself
;
—
Here
,
boy
,
to
Pallas
;
—
here
,
to
Mercury
;
—
To
Saturn
,
Caius
—
not
to
Saturnine
!
You
were
as
good
to
shoot
against
the
wind
.
To
it
,
boy
!
—
Marcus
,
loose
when
I
bid
.
Of
my
word
,
I
have
written
to
effect
;
There’s
not
a
god
left
unsolicited
.
Kinsmen
,
shoot
all
your
shafts
into
the
court
.
We
will
afflict
the
Emperor
in
his
pride
.
Now
,
masters
,
draw
.
(
They
shoot
.
)
O
,
well
said
,
Lucius
!
Good
boy
,
in
Virgo’s
lap
!
Give
it
Pallas
.
My
lord
,
I
aim
a
mile
beyond
the
moon
.
Your
letter
is
with
Jupiter
by
this
.
Ha
,
ha
!
Publius
,
Publius
,
what
hast
thou
done
?
See
,
see
,
thou
hast
shot
off
one
of
Taurus’
horns
!
This
was
the
sport
,
my
lord
;
when
Publius
shot
,
The
Bull
,
being
galled
,
gave
Aries
such
a
knock
That
down
fell
both
the
Ram’s
horns
in
the
court
,
And
who
should
find
them
but
the
Empress’
villain
?
She
laughed
and
told
the
Moor
he
should
not
choose
But
give
them
to
his
master
for
a
present
.
Why
,
there
it
goes
.
God
give
his
Lordship
joy
!
ACT 4. SC. 3
Enter
a
country
fellow
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
?
Ho
,
the
gibbet-maker
?
He
says
that
he
hath
taken
them
down
again
,
for
the
man
must
not
be
hanged
till
the
next
week
.
But
what
says
Jupiter
,
I
ask
thee
?
Alas
,
sir
,
I
know
not
Jubiter
;
I
never
drank
with
him
in
all
my
life
.
Why
,
villain
,
art
not
thou
the
carrier
?
Ay
,
of
my
pigeons
,
sir
;
nothing
else
.
Why
,
didst
thou
not
come
from
heaven
?
From
heaven
?
Alas
,
sir
,
I
never
came
there
.
God
forbid
I
should
be
so
bold
to
press
to
heaven
in
my
young
days
.
Why
,
I
am
going
with
my
pigeons
to
the
tribunal
plebs
,
to
take
up
a
matter
of
brawl
betwixt
my
uncle
and
one
of
the
Emperal’s
men
.
,
to
Titus
Why
,
sir
,
that
is
as
fit
as
can
be
to
serve
for
your
oration
;
and
let
him
deliver
the
pigeons
to
the
Emperor
from
you
.
Tell
me
,
can
you
deliver
an
oration
to
the
Emperor
with
a
grace
?
Nay
,
truly
,
sir
,
I
could
never
say
grace
in
all
my
life
.
Sirrah
,
come
hither
.
Make
no
more
ado
,
But
give
your
pigeons
to
the
Emperor
.
By
me
thou
shalt
have
justice
at
his
hands
.
Hold
,
hold
;
meanwhile
here’s
money
for
thy
ACT 4. SC. 4
charges
.
—
Give
me
pen
and
ink
.
—
Sirrah
,
can
you
with
a
grace
deliver
up
a
supplication
?
He
writes
.
Ay
,
sir
.
Then
here
is
a
supplication
for
you
,
and
when
you
come
to
him
,
at
the
first
approach
you
must
kneel
,
then
kiss
his
foot
,
then
deliver
up
your
pigeons
,
and
then
look
for
your
reward
.
I’ll
be
at
hand
,
sir
.
See
you
do
it
bravely
.
He
hands
him
a
paper
.
I
warrant
you
,
sir
.
Let
me
alone
.
Sirrah
,
hast
thou
a
knife
?
Come
,
let
me
see
it
.
—
He
takes
the
knife
and
gives
it
to
Marcus
.
Here
,
Marcus
,
fold
it
in
the
oration
,
For
thou
hast
made
it
like
an
humble
suppliant
.
—
And
when
thou
hast
given
it
to
the
Emperor
,
Knock
at
my
door
and
tell
me
what
he
says
.
God
be
with
you
,
sir
.
I
will
.
He
exits
.
Come
,
Marcus
,
let
us
go
.
—
Publius
,
follow
me
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Emperor
Saturninus
and
Empress
Tamora
and
her
two
sons
Chiron
and
Demetrius
,
with
Attendants
.
The
Emperor
brings
the
arrows
in
his
hand
that
Titus
shot
at
him
.
Why
,
lords
,
what
wrongs
are
these
!
Was
ever
seen
An
emperor
in
Rome
thus
overborne
,
Troubled
,
confronted
thus
,
and
for
the
extent
Of
equal
justice
,
used
in
such
contempt
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
My
lords
,
you
know
,
as
know
the
mightful
gods
,
However
these
disturbers
of
our
peace
Buzz
in
the
people’s
ears
,
there
naught
hath
passed
But
even
with
law
against
the
willful
sons
Of
old
Andronicus
.
And
what
an
if
His
sorrows
have
so
overwhelmed
his
wits
?
Shall
we
be
thus
afflicted
in
his
wreaks
,
His
fits
,
his
frenzy
,
and
his
bitterness
?
And
now
he
writes
to
heaven
for
his
redress
!
See
,
here’s
to
Jove
,
and
this
to
Mercury
,
This
to
Apollo
,
this
to
the
god
of
war
.
Sweet
scrolls
to
fly
about
the
streets
of
Rome
!
What’s
this
but
libeling
against
the
Senate
And
blazoning
our
unjustice
everywhere
?
A
goodly
humor
is
it
not
,
my
lords
?
As
who
would
say
,
in
Rome
no
justice
were
.
But
if
I
live
,
his
feignèd
ecstasies
Shall
be
no
shelter
to
these
outrages
,
But
he
and
his
shall
know
that
justice
lives
In
Saturninus’
health
,
whom
,
if
he
sleep
,
He’ll
so
awake
as
he
in
fury
shall
Cut
off
the
proud’st
conspirator
that
lives
.
My
gracious
lord
,
my
lovely
Saturnine
,
Lord
of
my
life
,
commander
of
my
thoughts
,
Calm
thee
,
and
bear
the
faults
of
Titus’
age
,
Th’
effects
of
sorrow
for
his
valiant
sons
,
Whose
loss
hath
pierced
him
deep
and
scarred
his
heart
,
And
rather
comfort
his
distressèd
plight
Than
prosecute
the
meanest
or
the
best
For
these
contempts
.
(
Aside
.
)
Why
,
thus
it
shall
become
High-witted
Tamora
to
gloze
with
all
.
But
,
Titus
,
I
have
touched
thee
to
the
quick
.
Thy
lifeblood
out
,
if
Aaron
now
be
wise
,
Then
is
all
safe
,
the
anchor
in
the
port
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Enter
Country
Fellow
.
How
now
,
good
fellow
,
wouldst
thou
speak
with
us
?
Yea
,
forsooth
,
an
your
Mistresship
be
emperial
.
Empress
I
am
,
but
yonder
sits
the
Emperor
.
’Tis
he
!
—
God
and
Saint
Stephen
give
you
good
e’en
.
I
have
brought
you
a
letter
and
a
couple
of
pigeons
here
.
Saturninus
reads
the
letter
.
Go
,
take
him
away
,
and
hang
him
presently
.
How
much
money
must
I
have
?
Come
,
sirrah
,
you
must
be
hanged
.
Hanged
!
By
’r
Lady
,
then
I
have
brought
up
a
neck
to
a
fair
end
.
He
exits
with
Attendants
.
Despiteful
and
intolerable
wrongs
!
Shall
I
endure
this
monstrous
villainy
?
I
know
from
whence
this
same
device
proceeds
.
May
this
be
borne
?
—
as
if
his
traitorous
sons
,
That
died
by
law
for
murder
of
our
brother
,
Have
by
my
means
been
butchered
wrongfully
!
Go
,
drag
the
villain
hither
by
the
hair
.
Nor
age
nor
honor
shall
shape
privilege
.
For
this
proud
mock
,
I’ll
be
thy
slaughterman
,
Sly
,
frantic
wretch
,
that
holp’st
to
make
me
great
In
hope
thyself
should
govern
Rome
and
me
.
Enter
nuntius
,
Aemilius
.
What
news
with
thee
,
Aemilius
?
Arm
,
my
lords
!
Rome
never
had
more
cause
.
The
Goths
have
gathered
head
,
and
with
a
power
ACT 4. SC. 4
Of
high-resolvèd
men
bent
to
the
spoil
,
They
hither
march
amain
under
conduct
Of
Lucius
,
son
to
old
Andronicus
,
Who
threats
,
in
course
of
this
revenge
,
to
do
As
much
as
ever
Coriolanus
did
.
Is
warlike
Lucius
general
of
the
Goths
?
These
tidings
nip
me
,
and
I
hang
the
head
As
flowers
with
frost
or
grass
beat
down
with
storms
.
Ay
,
now
begins
our
sorrows
to
approach
.
’Tis
he
the
common
people
love
so
much
.
Myself
hath
often
heard
them
say
,
When
I
have
walkèd
like
a
private
man
,
That
Lucius’
banishment
was
wrongfully
,
And
they
have
wished
that
Lucius
were
their
emperor
.
Why
should
you
fear
?
Is
not
your
city
strong
?
Ay
,
but
the
citizens
favor
Lucius
And
will
revolt
from
me
to
succor
him
.
King
,
be
thy
thoughts
imperious
like
thy
name
.
Is
the
sun
dimmed
that
gnats
do
fly
in
it
?
The
eagle
suffers
little
birds
to
sing
And
is
not
careful
what
they
mean
thereby
,
Knowing
that
with
the
shadow
of
his
wings
He
can
at
pleasure
stint
their
melody
.
Even
so
mayst
thou
the
giddy
men
of
Rome
.
Then
cheer
thy
spirit
,
for
know
,
thou
emperor
,
I
will
enchant
the
old
Andronicus
With
words
more
sweet
and
yet
more
dangerous
Than
baits
to
fish
or
honey-stalks
to
sheep
,
Whenas
the
one
is
wounded
with
the
bait
,
The
other
rotted
with
delicious
feed
.
But
he
will
not
entreat
his
son
for
us
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
If
Tamora
entreat
him
,
then
he
will
,
For
I
can
smooth
and
fill
his
agèd
ears
With
golden
promises
,
that
were
his
heart
Almost
impregnable
,
his
old
ears
deaf
,
Yet
should
both
ear
and
heart
obey
my
tongue
.
To
Aemilius
.
Go
thou
before
to
be
our
ambassador
.
Say
that
the
Emperor
requests
a
parley
Of
warlike
Lucius
,
and
appoint
the
meeting
Even
at
his
father’s
house
,
the
old
Andronicus
.
Aemilius
,
do
this
message
honorably
,
And
if
he
stand
in
hostage
for
his
safety
,
Bid
him
demand
what
pledge
will
please
him
best
.
Your
bidding
shall
I
do
effectually
.
He
exits
.
Now
will
I
to
that
old
Andronicus
And
temper
him
with
all
the
art
I
have
To
pluck
proud
Lucius
from
the
warlike
Goths
.
And
now
,
sweet
emperor
,
be
blithe
again
,
And
bury
all
thy
fear
in
my
devices
.
Then
go
successantly
,
and
plead
to
him
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Flourish
.
Enter
Lucius
with
an
army
of
Goths
,
with
Drums
and
Soldiers
.
Approvèd
warriors
and
my
faithful
friends
,
I
have
receivèd
letters
from
great
Rome
Which
signifies
what
hate
they
bear
their
emperor
And
how
desirous
of
our
sight
they
are
.
Therefore
,
great
lords
,
be
as
your
titles
witness
,
Imperious
,
and
impatient
of
your
wrongs
,
And
wherein
Rome
hath
done
you
any
scathe
,
Let
him
make
treble
satisfaction
.
Brave
slip
sprung
from
the
great
Andronicus
,
Whose
name
was
once
our
terror
,
now
our
comfort
,
Whose
high
exploits
and
honorable
deeds
Ingrateful
Rome
requites
with
foul
contempt
,
Be
bold
in
us
.
We’ll
follow
where
thou
lead’st
,
Like
stinging
bees
in
hottest
summer’s
day
Led
by
their
master
to
the
flowered
fields
,
And
be
avenged
on
cursèd
Tamora
.
And
as
he
saith
,
so
say
we
all
with
him
.
I
humbly
thank
him
,
and
I
thank
you
all
.
But
who
comes
here
,
led
by
a
lusty
Goth
?
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enter
a
Goth
,
leading
of
Aaron
with
his
child
in
his
arms
.
Renownèd
Lucius
,
from
our
troops
I
strayed
To
gaze
upon
a
ruinous
monastery
,
And
as
I
earnestly
did
fix
mine
eye
Upon
the
wasted
building
,
suddenly
I
heard
a
child
cry
underneath
a
wall
.
I
made
unto
the
noise
,
when
soon
I
heard
The
crying
babe
controlled
with
this
discourse
:
Peace
,
tawny
slave
,
half
me
and
half
thy
dame
!
Did
not
thy
hue
bewray
whose
brat
thou
art
,
Had
nature
lent
thee
but
thy
mother’s
look
,
Villain
,
thou
mightst
have
been
an
emperor
.
But
where
the
bull
and
cow
are
both
milk
white
,
They
never
do
beget
a
coal-black
calf
.
Peace
,
villain
,
peace
!
—
even
thus
he
rates
the
babe
—
For
I
must
bear
thee
to
a
trusty
Goth
Who
,
when
he
knows
thou
art
the
Empress’
babe
,
Will
hold
thee
dearly
for
thy
mother’s
sake
.
With
this
,
my
weapon
drawn
,
I
rushed
upon
him
,
Surprised
him
suddenly
,
and
brought
him
hither
To
use
as
you
think
needful
of
the
man
.
O
worthy
Goth
,
this
is
the
incarnate
devil
That
robbed
Andronicus
of
his
good
hand
;
This
is
the
pearl
that
pleased
your
empress’
eye
;
And
here’s
the
base
fruit
of
her
burning
lust
.
—
Say
,
wall-eyed
slave
,
whither
wouldst
thou
convey
This
growing
image
of
thy
fiendlike
face
?
Why
dost
not
speak
?
What
,
deaf
?
Not
a
word
?
—
A
halter
,
soldiers
!
Hang
him
on
this
tree
,
And
by
his
side
his
fruit
of
bastardy
.
Touch
not
the
boy
.
He
is
of
royal
blood
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Too
like
the
sire
for
ever
being
good
.
First
hang
the
child
,
that
he
may
see
it
sprawl
,
A
sight
to
vex
the
father’s
soul
withal
.
Get
me
a
ladder
.
A
ladder
is
brought
,
which
Aaron
is
made
to
climb
.
Lucius
,
save
the
child
And
bear
it
from
me
to
the
Empress
.
If
thou
do
this
,
I’ll
show
thee
wondrous
things
That
highly
may
advantage
thee
to
hear
.
If
thou
wilt
not
,
befall
what
may
befall
,
I’ll
speak
no
more
but
Vengeance
rot
you
all
!
Say
on
,
and
if
it
please
me
which
thou
speak’st
,
Thy
child
shall
live
,
and
I
will
see
it
nourished
.
And
if
it
please
thee
?
Why
,
assure
thee
,
Lucius
,
’Twill
vex
thy
soul
to
hear
what
I
shall
speak
;
For
I
must
talk
of
murders
,
rapes
,
and
massacres
,
Acts
of
black
night
,
abominable
deeds
,
Complots
of
mischief
,
treason
,
villainies
,
Ruthful
to
hear
,
yet
piteously
performed
.
And
this
shall
all
be
buried
in
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
?
What
if
I
do
not
?
As
indeed
I
do
not
.
Yet
,
for
I
know
thou
art
religious
And
hast
a
thing
within
thee
callèd
conscience
,
With
twenty
popish
tricks
and
ceremonies
ACT 5. SC. 1
Which
I
have
seen
thee
careful
to
observe
,
Therefore
I
urge
thy
oath
;
for
that
I
know
An
idiot
holds
his
bauble
for
a
god
And
keeps
the
oath
which
by
that
god
he
swears
,
To
that
I’ll
urge
him
.
Therefore
thou
shalt
vow
By
that
same
god
,
what
god
soe’er
it
be
That
thou
adorest
and
hast
in
reverence
,
To
save
my
boy
,
to
nourish
and
bring
him
up
,
Or
else
I
will
discover
naught
to
thee
.
Even
by
my
god
I
swear
to
thee
I
will
.
First
know
thou
,
I
begot
him
on
the
Empress
.
O
,
most
insatiate
and
luxurious
woman
!
Tut
,
Lucius
,
this
was
but
a
deed
of
charity
To
that
which
thou
shalt
hear
of
me
anon
.
’Twas
her
two
sons
that
murdered
Bassianus
.
They
cut
thy
sister’s
tongue
,
and
ravished
her
,
And
cut
her
hands
,
and
trimmed
her
as
thou
sawest
.
O
detestable
villain
,
call’st
thou
that
trimming
?
Why
,
she
was
washed
,
and
cut
,
and
trimmed
;
and
’twas
Trim
sport
for
them
which
had
the
doing
of
it
.
O
,
barbarous
beastly
villains
,
like
thyself
!
Indeed
,
I
was
their
tutor
to
instruct
them
.
That
codding
spirit
had
they
from
their
mother
,
As
sure
a
card
as
ever
won
the
set
;
That
bloody
mind
I
think
they
learned
of
me
,
As
true
a
dog
as
ever
fought
at
head
.
Well
,
let
my
deeds
be
witness
of
my
worth
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
I
trained
thy
brethren
to
that
guileful
hole
Where
the
dead
corpse
of
Bassianus
lay
.
I
wrote
the
letter
that
thy
father
found
,
And
hid
the
gold
within
that
letter
mentioned
,
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
played
the
cheater
for
thy
father’s
hand
,
And
,
when
I
had
it
,
drew
myself
apart
And
almost
broke
my
heart
with
extreme
laughter
.
I
pried
me
through
the
crevice
of
a
wall
When
,
for
his
hand
,
he
had
his
two
sons’
heads
,
Beheld
his
tears
,
and
laughed
so
heartily
That
both
mine
eyes
were
rainy
like
to
his
.
And
when
I
told
the
Empress
of
this
sport
,
She
sounded
almost
at
my
pleasing
tale
,
And
for
my
tidings
gave
me
twenty
kisses
.
What
,
canst
thou
say
all
this
and
never
blush
?
Ay
,
like
a
black
dog
,
as
the
saying
is
.
Art
thou
not
sorry
for
these
heinous
deeds
?
Ay
,
that
I
had
not
done
a
thousand
more
.
Even
now
I
curse
the
day
—
and
yet
,
I
think
,
Few
come
within
the
compass
of
my
curse
—
Wherein
I
did
not
some
notorious
ill
,
As
kill
a
man
,
or
else
devise
his
death
;
Ravish
a
maid
or
plot
the
way
to
do
it
;
Accuse
some
innocent
and
forswear
myself
;
Set
deadly
enmity
between
two
friends
;
Make
poor
men’s
cattle
break
their
necks
;
Set
fire
on
barns
and
haystalks
in
the
night
,
And
bid
the
owners
quench
them
with
their
tears
.
Oft
have
I
digged
up
dead
men
from
their
graves
And
set
them
upright
at
their
dear
friends’
door
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
Even
when
their
sorrows
almost
was
forgot
,
And
on
their
skins
,
as
on
the
bark
of
trees
,
Have
with
my
knife
carvèd
in
Roman
letters
Let
not
your
sorrow
die
,
though
I
am
dead
.
But
I
have
done
a
thousand
dreadful
things
As
willingly
as
one
would
kill
a
fly
,
And
nothing
grieves
me
heartily
indeed
But
that
I
cannot
do
ten
thousand
more
.
Bring
down
the
devil
,
for
he
must
not
die
So
sweet
a
death
as
hanging
presently
.
Aaron
is
brought
down
from
the
ladder
.
If
there
be
devils
,
would
I
were
a
devil
,
To
live
and
burn
in
everlasting
fire
,
So
I
might
have
your
company
in
hell
But
to
torment
you
with
my
bitter
tongue
.
Sirs
,
stop
his
mouth
,
and
let
him
speak
no
more
.
Enter
Aemilius
.
My
lord
,
there
is
a
messenger
from
Rome
Desires
to
be
admitted
to
your
presence
.
Let
him
come
near
.
Aemilius
comes
forward
.
Welcome
,
Aemilius
.
What’s
the
news
from
Rome
?
Lord
Lucius
,
and
you
princes
of
the
Goths
,
The
Roman
Emperor
greets
you
all
by
me
;
And
,
for
he
understands
you
are
in
arms
,
He
craves
a
parley
at
your
father’s
house
,
Willing
you
to
demand
your
hostages
,
And
they
shall
be
immediately
delivered
.
What
says
our
general
?
Aemilius
,
let
the
Emperor
give
his
pledges
ACT 5. SC. 2
Unto
my
father
and
my
uncle
Marcus
,
And
we
will
come
.
March
away
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Tamora
and
her
two
sons
,
disguised
.
Thus
,
in
this
strange
and
sad
habiliment
I
will
encounter
with
Andronicus
And
say
I
am
Revenge
,
sent
from
below
To
join
with
him
and
right
his
heinous
wrongs
.
Knock
at
his
study
,
where
they
say
he
keeps
To
ruminate
strange
plots
of
dire
revenge
.
Tell
him
Revenge
is
come
to
join
with
him
And
work
confusion
on
his
enemies
.
They
knock
,
and
Titus
(
above
)
opens
his
study
door
.
Who
doth
molest
my
contemplation
?
Is
it
your
trick
to
make
me
ope
the
door
,
That
so
my
sad
decrees
may
fly
away
And
all
my
study
be
to
no
effect
?
You
are
deceived
,
for
what
I
mean
to
do
,
See
here
,
in
bloody
lines
I
have
set
down
,
And
what
is
written
shall
be
executed
.
Titus
,
I
am
come
to
talk
with
thee
.
No
,
not
a
word
.
How
can
I
grace
my
talk
,
Wanting
a
hand
to
give
it
action
?
Thou
hast
the
odds
of
me
;
therefore
,
no
more
.
If
thou
didst
know
me
,
thou
wouldst
talk
with
me
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
am
not
mad
.
I
know
thee
well
enough
.
Witness
this
wretched
stump
;
witness
these
crimson
lines
;
Witness
these
trenches
made
by
grief
and
care
;
Witness
the
tiring
day
and
heavy
night
;
Witness
all
sorrow
that
I
know
thee
well
For
our
proud
empress
,
mighty
Tamora
.
Is
not
thy
coming
for
my
other
hand
?
Know
,
thou
sad
man
,
I
am
not
Tamora
.
She
is
thy
enemy
,
and
I
thy
friend
.
I
am
Revenge
,
sent
from
th’
infernal
kingdom
To
ease
the
gnawing
vulture
of
thy
mind
By
working
wreakful
vengeance
on
thy
foes
.
Come
down
and
welcome
me
to
this
world’s
light
.
Confer
with
me
of
murder
and
of
death
.
There’s
not
a
hollow
cave
or
lurking-place
,
No
vast
obscurity
or
misty
vale
Where
bloody
murder
or
detested
rape
Can
couch
for
fear
but
I
will
find
them
out
,
And
in
their
ears
tell
them
my
dreadful
name
,
Revenge
,
which
makes
the
foul
offender
quake
.
Art
thou
Revenge
?
And
art
thou
sent
to
me
To
be
a
torment
to
mine
enemies
?
I
am
.
Therefore
come
down
and
welcome
me
.
Do
me
some
service
ere
I
come
to
thee
.
Lo
,
by
thy
side
,
where
Rape
and
Murder
stands
,
Now
give
some
surance
that
thou
art
Revenge
:
Stab
them
,
or
tear
them
on
thy
chariot
wheels
,
And
then
I’ll
come
and
be
thy
wagoner
,
And
whirl
along
with
thee
about
the
globe
,
Provide
thee
two
proper
palfreys
,
black
as
jet
,
To
hale
thy
vengeful
wagon
swift
away
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
find
out
murderers
in
their
guilty
caves
.
And
when
thy
car
is
loaden
with
their
heads
,
I
will
dismount
and
by
thy
wagon
wheel
Trot
like
a
servile
footman
all
day
long
,
Even
from
Hyperion’s
rising
in
the
east
Until
his
very
downfall
in
the
sea
.
And
day
by
day
I’ll
do
this
heavy
task
,
So
thou
destroy
Rapine
and
Murder
there
.
These
are
my
ministers
and
come
with
me
.
Are
they
thy
ministers
?
What
are
they
called
?
Rape
and
Murder
;
therefore
callèd
so
’Cause
they
take
vengeance
of
such
kind
of
men
.
Good
Lord
,
how
like
the
Empress’
sons
they
are
,
And
you
the
Empress
!
But
we
worldly
men
Have
miserable
,
mad
,
mistaking
eyes
.
O
sweet
Revenge
,
now
do
I
come
to
thee
,
And
if
one
arm’s
embracement
will
content
thee
,
I
will
embrace
thee
in
it
by
and
by
.
He
exits
above
.
This
closing
with
him
fits
his
lunacy
.
Whate’er
I
forge
to
feed
his
brainsick
humors
,
Do
you
uphold
and
maintain
in
your
speeches
,
For
now
he
firmly
takes
me
for
Revenge
;
And
,
being
credulous
in
this
mad
thought
,
I’ll
make
him
send
for
Lucius
his
son
;
And
whilst
I
at
a
banquet
hold
him
sure
,
I’ll
find
some
cunning
practice
out
of
hand
To
scatter
and
disperse
the
giddy
Goths
,
Or
,
at
the
least
,
make
them
his
enemies
.
See
,
here
he
comes
,
and
I
must
ply
my
theme
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Enter
Titus
.
Long
have
I
been
forlorn
,
and
all
for
thee
.
Welcome
,
dread
Fury
,
to
my
woeful
house
.
—
Rapine
and
Murder
,
you
are
welcome
too
.
How
like
the
Empress
and
her
sons
you
are
!
Well
are
you
fitted
,
had
you
but
a
Moor
.
Could
not
all
hell
afford
you
such
a
devil
?
For
well
I
wot
the
Empress
never
wags
But
in
her
company
there
is
a
Moor
;
And
,
would
you
represent
our
queen
aright
,
It
were
convenient
you
had
such
a
devil
.
But
welcome
as
you
are
.
What
shall
we
do
?
What
wouldst
thou
have
us
do
,
Andronicus
?
Show
me
a
murderer
;
I’ll
deal
with
him
.
Show
me
a
villain
that
hath
done
a
rape
,
And
I
am
sent
to
be
revenged
on
him
.
Show
me
a
thousand
that
hath
done
thee
wrong
,
And
I
will
be
revengèd
on
them
all
.
,
to
Demetrius
Look
round
about
the
wicked
streets
of
Rome
,
And
when
thou
findst
a
man
that’s
like
thyself
,
Good
Murder
,
stab
him
;
he’s
a
murderer
.
To
Chiron
.
Go
thou
with
him
,
and
when
it
is
thy
hap
To
find
another
that
is
like
to
thee
,
Good
Rapine
,
stab
him
;
he
is
a
ravisher
.
To
Tamora
.
Go
thou
with
them
;
and
in
the
Emperor’s
court
There
is
a
queen
attended
by
a
Moor
.
Well
shalt
thou
know
her
by
thine
own
proportion
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
For
up
and
down
she
doth
resemble
thee
.
I
pray
thee
,
do
on
them
some
violent
death
.
They
have
been
violent
to
me
and
mine
.
Well
hast
thou
lessoned
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
,
The
Emperor
himself
,
and
all
thy
foes
,
And
at
thy
mercy
shall
they
stoop
and
kneel
,
And
on
them
shalt
thou
ease
thy
angry
heart
.
What
says
Andronicus
to
this
device
?
,
(
calling
)
Marcus
,
my
brother
,
’tis
sad
Titus
calls
.
Enter
Marcus
.
Go
,
gentle
Marcus
,
to
thy
nephew
Lucius
.
Thou
shalt
inquire
him
out
among
the
Goths
.
Bid
him
repair
to
me
and
bring
with
him
Some
of
the
chiefest
princes
of
the
Goths
.
Bid
him
encamp
his
soldiers
where
they
are
.
Tell
him
the
Emperor
and
the
Empress
too
Feast
at
my
house
,
and
he
shall
feast
with
them
.
This
do
thou
for
my
love
,
and
so
let
him
,
As
he
regards
his
agèd
father’s
life
.
This
will
I
do
,
and
soon
return
again
.
Marcus
exits
.
Now
will
I
hence
about
thy
business
And
take
my
ministers
along
with
me
.
Nay
,
nay
,
let
Rape
and
Murder
stay
with
me
,
Or
else
I’ll
call
my
brother
back
again
And
cleave
to
no
revenge
but
Lucius
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
,
aside
to
Chiron
and
Demetrius
What
say
you
,
boys
?
Will
you
abide
with
him
Whiles
I
go
tell
my
lord
the
Emperor
How
I
have
governed
our
determined
jest
?
Yield
to
his
humor
,
smooth
and
speak
him
fair
,
And
tarry
with
him
till
I
turn
again
.
,
aside
I
knew
them
all
,
though
they
supposed
me
mad
,
And
will
o’erreach
them
in
their
own
devices
—
A
pair
of
cursèd
hellhounds
and
their
dam
!
,
aside
to
Tamora
Madam
,
depart
at
pleasure
.
Leave
us
here
.
Farewell
,
Andronicus
.
Revenge
now
goes
To
lay
a
complot
to
betray
thy
foes
.
I
know
thou
dost
;
and
,
sweet
Revenge
,
farewell
.
Tamora
exits
.
Tell
us
,
old
man
,
how
shall
we
be
employed
?
Tut
,
I
have
work
enough
for
you
to
do
.
—
Publius
,
come
hither
;
Caius
,
and
Valentine
.
Publius
,
Caius
,
and
Valentine
enter
.
What
is
your
will
?
Know
you
these
two
?
The
Empress’
sons
,
I
take
them
—
Chiron
,
Demetrius
.
Fie
,
Publius
,
fie
,
thou
art
too
much
deceived
.
The
one
is
Murder
,
and
Rape
is
the
other’s
name
;
And
therefore
bind
them
,
gentle
Publius
.
Caius
and
Valentine
,
lay
hands
on
them
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
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
.
Titus
exits
.
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
.
Enter
Titus
Andronicus
with
a
knife
,
and
Lavinia
with
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
.
—
O
villains
,
Chiron
and
Demetrius
!
Here
stands
the
spring
whom
you
have
stained
with
mud
,
This
goodly
summer
with
your
winter
mixed
.
You
killed
her
husband
,
and
for
that
vile
fault
Two
of
her
brothers
were
condemned
to
death
,
My
hand
cut
off
and
made
a
merry
jest
,
Both
her
sweet
hands
,
her
tongue
,
and
that
more
dear
Than
hands
or
tongue
,
her
spotless
chastity
,
Inhuman
traitors
,
you
constrained
and
forced
.
What
would
you
say
if
I
should
let
you
speak
?
Villains
,
for
shame
you
could
not
beg
for
grace
.
Hark
,
wretches
,
how
I
mean
to
martyr
you
.
This
one
hand
yet
is
left
to
cut
your
throats
,
Whiles
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
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
And
with
your
blood
and
it
I’ll
make
a
paste
,
And
of
the
paste
a
coffin
I
will
rear
,
And
make
two
pasties
of
your
shameful
heads
,
And
bid
that
strumpet
,
your
unhallowed
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
Procne
I
will
be
revenged
.
And
now
prepare
your
throats
.
—
Lavinia
,
come
,
Receive
the
blood
.
He
cuts
their
throats
.
And
when
that
they
are
dead
,
Let
me
go
grind
their
bones
to
powder
small
,
And
with
this
hateful
liquor
temper
it
,
And
in
that
paste
let
their
vile
heads
be
baked
.
Come
,
come
,
be
everyone
officious
To
make
this
banquet
,
which
I
wish
may
prove
More
stern
and
bloody
than
the
Centaurs’
feast
.
So
.
Now
bring
them
in
,
for
I’ll
play
the
cook
And
see
them
ready
against
their
mother
comes
.
They
exit
,
carrying
the
dead
bodies
.
Scene
3
Enter
Lucius
,
Marcus
,
and
the
Goths
,
with
Aaron
,
Guards
,
and
an
Attendant
carrying
the
baby
.
Uncle
Marcus
,
since
’tis
my
father’s
mind
That
I
repair
to
Rome
,
I
am
content
.
And
ours
with
thine
,
befall
what
fortune
will
.
Good
uncle
,
take
you
in
this
barbarous
Moor
,
This
ravenous
tiger
,
this
accursèd
devil
.
Let
him
receive
no
sust’nance
.
Fetter
him
ACT 5. SC. 3
Till
he
be
brought
unto
the
Empress’
face
For
testimony
of
her
foul
proceedings
.
And
see
the
ambush
of
our
friends
be
strong
.
I
fear
the
Emperor
means
no
good
to
us
.
Some
devil
whisper
curses
in
my
ear
And
prompt
me
that
my
tongue
may
utter
forth
The
venomous
malice
of
my
swelling
heart
.
Away
,
inhuman
dog
,
unhallowed
slave
!
—
Sirs
,
help
our
uncle
to
convey
him
in
.
Sound
trumpets
.
The
trumpets
show
the
Emperor
is
at
hand
.
Guards
and
Aaron
exit
.
Enter
Emperor
Saturninus
and
Empress
Tamora
with
Aemilius
,
Tribunes
,
Attendants
,
and
others
.
What
,
hath
the
firmament
more
suns
than
one
?
What
boots
it
thee
to
call
thyself
a
sun
?
Rome’s
emperor
,
and
nephew
,
break
the
parle
.
These
quarrels
must
be
quietly
debated
.
The
feast
is
ready
which
the
careful
Titus
Hath
ordained
to
an
honorable
end
,
For
peace
,
for
love
,
for
league
and
good
to
Rome
.
Please
you
therefore
draw
nigh
and
take
your
places
.
Marcus
,
we
will
.
Trumpets
sounding
,
enter
Titus
like
a
cook
,
placing
the
dishes
,
with
young
Lucius
and
others
,
and
Lavinia
with
a
veil
over
her
face
.
Welcome
,
my
lord
;
—
welcome
,
dread
queen
;
—
Welcome
,
you
warlike
Goths
;
—
welcome
,
Lucius
;
—
ACT 5. SC. 3
And
welcome
,
all
.
Although
the
cheer
be
poor
,
’Twill
fill
your
stomachs
.
Please
you
eat
of
it
.
They
begin
to
eat
.
Why
art
thou
thus
attired
,
Andronicus
?
Because
I
would
be
sure
to
have
all
well
To
entertain
your
Highness
and
your
empress
.
We
are
beholding
to
you
,
good
Andronicus
.
An
if
your
Highness
knew
my
heart
,
you
were
.
—
My
lord
the
Emperor
,
resolve
me
this
:
Was
it
well
done
of
rash
Virginius
To
slay
his
daughter
with
his
own
right
hand
Because
she
was
enforced
,
stained
,
and
deflowered
?
It
was
,
Andronicus
.
Your
reason
,
mighty
lord
?
Because
the
girl
should
not
survive
her
shame
,
And
by
her
presence
still
renew
his
sorrows
.
A
reason
mighty
,
strong
,
and
effectual
;
A
pattern
,
precedent
,
and
lively
warrant
For
me
,
most
wretched
,
to
perform
the
like
.
Die
,
die
,
Lavinia
,
and
thy
shame
with
thee
,
And
with
thy
shame
thy
father’s
sorrow
die
.
He
kills
Lavinia
.
What
hast
thou
done
,
unnatural
and
unkind
?
Killed
her
for
whom
my
tears
have
made
me
blind
.
I
am
as
woeful
as
Virginius
was
,
And
have
a
thousand
times
more
cause
than
he
To
do
this
outrage
,
and
it
now
is
done
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
What
,
was
she
ravished
?
Tell
who
did
the
deed
.
Will
’t
please
you
eat
?
—
Will
’t
please
your
Highness
feed
?
Why
hast
thou
slain
thine
only
daughter
thus
?
Not
I
;
’twas
Chiron
and
Demetrius
.
They
ravished
her
and
cut
away
her
tongue
,
And
they
,
’twas
they
,
that
did
her
all
this
wrong
.
Go
fetch
them
hither
to
us
presently
.
Why
,
there
they
are
,
both
bakèd
in
this
pie
,
Whereof
their
mother
daintily
hath
fed
,
Eating
the
flesh
that
she
herself
hath
bred
.
’Tis
true
,
’tis
true
!
Witness
my
knife’s
sharp
point
.
He
stabs
the
Empress
.
Die
,
frantic
wretch
,
for
this
accursèd
deed
.
He
kills
Titus
.
Can
the
son’s
eye
behold
his
father
bleed
?
He
kills
Saturninus
.
There’s
meed
for
meed
,
death
for
a
deadly
deed
.
A
great
tumult
.
Lucius
,
Marcus
,
and
others
go
aloft
to
the
upper
stage
.
You
sad-faced
men
,
people
and
sons
of
Rome
,
By
uproars
severed
as
a
flight
of
fowl
Scattered
by
winds
and
high
tempestuous
gusts
,
O
,
let
me
teach
you
how
to
knit
again
This
scattered
corn
into
one
mutual
sheaf
,
These
broken
limbs
again
into
one
body
,
Lest
Rome
herself
be
bane
unto
herself
,
And
she
whom
mighty
kingdoms
curtsy
to
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
Like
a
forlorn
and
desperate
castaway
,
Do
shameful
execution
on
herself
.
But
if
my
frosty
signs
and
chaps
of
age
,
Grave
witnesses
of
true
experience
,
Cannot
induce
you
to
attend
my
words
,
He
turns
to
Lucius
.
Speak
,
Rome’s
dear
friend
,
as
erst
our
ancestor
,
When
with
his
solemn
tongue
he
did
discourse
To
lovesick
Dido’s
sad-attending
ear
The
story
of
that
baleful
burning
night
When
subtle
Greeks
surprised
King
Priam’s
Troy
.
Tell
us
what
Sinon
hath
bewitched
our
ears
,
Or
who
hath
brought
the
fatal
engine
in
That
gives
our
Troy
,
our
Rome
,
the
civil
wound
.
—
My
heart
is
not
compact
of
flint
nor
steel
,
Nor
can
I
utter
all
our
bitter
grief
,
But
floods
of
tears
will
drown
my
oratory
And
break
my
utterance
even
in
the
time
When
it
should
move
you
to
attend
me
most
And
force
you
to
commiseration
.
Here’s
Rome’s
young
captain
.
Let
him
tell
the
tale
,
While
I
stand
by
and
weep
to
hear
him
speak
.
Then
,
gracious
auditory
,
be
it
known
to
you
That
Chiron
and
the
damned
Demetrius
Were
they
that
murderèd
our
emperor’s
brother
,
And
they
it
were
that
ravishèd
our
sister
.
For
their
fell
faults
our
brothers
were
beheaded
,
Our
father’s
tears
despised
,
and
basely
cozened
Of
that
true
hand
that
fought
Rome’s
quarrel
out
And
sent
her
enemies
unto
the
grave
;
Lastly
,
myself
unkindly
banishèd
,
The
gates
shut
on
me
,
and
turned
weeping
out
To
beg
relief
among
Rome’s
enemies
,
Who
drowned
their
enmity
in
my
true
tears
And
oped
their
arms
to
embrace
me
as
a
friend
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
I
am
the
turned-forth
,
be
it
known
to
you
,
That
have
preserved
her
welfare
in
my
blood
And
from
her
bosom
took
the
enemy’s
point
,
Sheathing
the
steel
in
my
advent’rous
body
.
Alas
,
you
know
I
am
no
vaunter
,
I
;
My
scars
can
witness
,
dumb
although
they
are
,
That
my
report
is
just
and
full
of
truth
.
But
soft
,
methinks
I
do
digress
too
much
,
Citing
my
worthless
praise
.
O
,
pardon
me
,
For
when
no
friends
are
by
,
men
praise
themselves
.
Now
is
my
turn
to
speak
.
Behold
the
child
.
Of
this
was
Tamora
deliverèd
,
The
issue
of
an
irreligious
Moor
,
Chief
architect
and
plotter
of
these
woes
.
The
villain
is
alive
in
Titus’
house
,
And
as
he
is
to
witness
,
this
is
true
.
Now
judge
what
cause
had
Titus
to
revenge
These
wrongs
unspeakable
,
past
patience
,
Or
more
than
any
living
man
could
bear
.
Now
have
you
heard
the
truth
.
What
say
you
,
Romans
?
Have
we
done
aught
amiss
?
Show
us
wherein
,
And
from
the
place
where
you
behold
us
pleading
,
The
poor
remainder
of
Andronici
Will
,
hand
in
hand
,
all
headlong
hurl
ourselves
,
And
on
the
ragged
stones
beat
forth
our
souls
,
And
make
a
mutual
closure
of
our
house
.
Speak
,
Romans
,
speak
,
and
if
you
say
we
shall
,
Lo
,
hand
in
hand
,
Lucius
and
I
will
fall
.
Come
,
come
,
thou
reverend
man
of
Rome
,
And
bring
our
emperor
gently
in
thy
hand
,
Lucius
our
emperor
,
for
well
I
know
The
common
voice
do
cry
it
shall
be
so
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Lucius
,
all
hail
,
Rome’s
royal
emperor
!
,
to
Attendants
Go
,
go
into
old
Titus’
sorrowful
house
,
And
hither
hale
that
misbelieving
Moor
To
be
adjudged
some
direful
slaught’ring
death
As
punishment
for
his
most
wicked
life
.
Attendants
exit
.
Lucius
and
Marcus
come
down
from
the
upper
stage
.
Lucius
,
all
hail
,
Rome’s
gracious
governor
!
Thanks
,
gentle
Romans
.
May
I
govern
so
To
heal
Rome’s
harms
and
wipe
away
her
woe
!
But
,
gentle
people
,
give
me
aim
awhile
,
For
nature
puts
me
to
a
heavy
task
.
Stand
all
aloof
,
but
,
uncle
,
draw
you
near
To
shed
obsequious
tears
upon
this
trunk
.
He
kisses
Titus
.
O
,
take
this
warm
kiss
on
thy
pale
cold
lips
,
These
sorrowful
drops
upon
thy
bloodstained
face
,
The
last
true
duties
of
thy
noble
son
.
Tear
for
tear
,
and
loving
kiss
for
kiss
,
Thy
brother
Marcus
tenders
on
thy
lips
.
He
kisses
Titus
.
O
,
were
the
sum
of
these
that
I
should
pay
Countless
and
infinite
,
yet
would
I
pay
them
.
,
to
Young
Lucius
Come
hither
,
boy
.
Come
,
come
,
and
learn
of
us
To
melt
in
showers
.
Thy
grandsire
loved
thee
well
.
Many
a
time
he
danced
thee
on
his
knee
,
Sung
thee
asleep
,
his
loving
breast
thy
pillow
;
Many
a
story
hath
he
told
to
thee
,
And
bid
thee
bear
his
pretty
tales
in
mind
And
talk
of
them
when
he
was
dead
and
gone
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
How
many
thousand
times
hath
these
poor
lips
,
When
they
were
living
,
warmed
themselves
on
thine
!
O
,
now
,
sweet
boy
,
give
them
their
latest
kiss
.
Bid
him
farewell
;
commit
him
to
the
grave
.
Do
them
that
kindness
,
and
take
leave
of
them
.
O
grandsire
,
grandsire
,
ev’n
with
all
my
heart
Would
I
were
dead
so
you
did
live
again
!
He
kisses
Titus
.
O
Lord
,
I
cannot
speak
to
him
for
weeping
.
My
tears
will
choke
me
if
I
ope
my
mouth
.
Enter
Aaron
with
Guards
.
You
sad
Andronici
,
have
done
with
woes
.
Give
sentence
on
this
execrable
wretch
That
hath
been
breeder
of
these
dire
events
.
Set
him
breast-deep
in
earth
and
famish
him
.
There
let
him
stand
and
rave
and
cry
for
food
.
If
anyone
relieves
or
pities
him
,
For
the
offense
he
dies
.
This
is
our
doom
.
Some
stay
to
see
him
fastened
in
the
earth
.
Ah
,
why
should
wrath
be
mute
and
fury
dumb
?
I
am
no
baby
,
I
,
that
with
base
prayers
I
should
repent
the
evils
I
have
done
.
Ten
thousand
worse
than
ever
yet
I
did
Would
I
perform
,
if
I
might
have
my
will
.
If
one
good
deed
in
all
my
life
I
did
,
I
do
repent
it
from
my
very
soul
.
Aaron
is
led
off
by
Guards
.
Some
loving
friends
convey
the
Emperor
hence
,
And
give
him
burial
in
his
fathers’
grave
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
My
father
and
Lavinia
shall
forthwith
Be
closèd
in
our
household’s
monument
.
As
for
that
ravenous
tiger
,
Tamora
,
No
funeral
rite
,
nor
man
in
mourning
weed
;
No
mournful
bell
shall
ring
her
burial
;
But
throw
her
forth
to
beasts
and
birds
to
prey
.
Her
life
was
beastly
and
devoid
of
pity
,
And
being
dead
,
let
birds
on
her
take
pity
.
They
exit
,
carrying
the
dead
bodies
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation
text from the Folio in the passages based on the Quarto