MARCUS

Long live Lord Titus my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Room. And welcome Nephews from successful wars You that survive, and you that sleep in fame: Fair Lords, your Fortune's are alike in all, That in your Countries service drew your swords, But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, That hath aspired to Solons happiness, And triumphs over chance in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Room, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust, This Parliament of white and spotless hue, And name thee in election for the Empire, With these our late deceased Emperors sons: Be Candidatus then and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Room. Titus thou shalt obtain & ask the Empery. Suum cuiqum is our Roman justice, This Prince in justice ceazeth but his own. Oh Titus see: Oh see what thou hast done In a bade quarrel slain a virtuous son. My Lord this is impiety in you, My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him, He must be buried with his brothers. And shall or him we will accompany. No Noble Titus, but entreat of thee. To pardon Mutius and to bury him. Brother, for in that name does nature plead. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul, My Lord to S ep out of these driry dumps, How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths, Is of a sudden thus advanced in Room. That on mine honour here do I protest. I have Dogs my Lord, Will rouse the proudest Panther in the Chase, And climb the highest promontarie top. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep, Or if not so, thy Noble heart to break: I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. This was thy Daughter. O that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, W ere Like a sweet melodious bird it sung, Sweet varied notes enchanting every ear. O thus I found her straying in the Park, Seeking to hide her self, as does the Dear That hath receaude some unrecuring wound. Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband, Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Patience deer niece, good Titus dry thine eyes. which of your hands hath not defended Room, And reared aloft the bloody Battleaxe, wrighting destruction on the enemies Case le? 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. My hand shall go. And for our father's sake, and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. But I will use the Axe. Exeunt. O Brother speak with possibility, And do not break into these deep extremes. But yet let reason govern thy lament. Now let hight Aetna cool in Cycili , And be my heart and euerburning hell: These Misery's are more than may be born. To weep with them that weep does ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at, is double death. Alas poor har , that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. Stand by me Lucius, do not fear thine Aunt. For love of her thats gone, Perhaps she could it from among the rest. See brother see, note how she coats the leaves, What, what, the lus full sons of Tamora, Performers of this heinous bloody deed. 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 And swear with me as with the woeful fear, And father of that chased dishonoured Dame, Lord Junius Brutus swear 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. Oh heavens, can you hear a goodman groan And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Than oe-mens marks upon his battered shield, But yet so joust, that he will not revenge, Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus. Exit. Oh Publius, is not this a heavy c see To see thy Noble Uncle thus distract? Kinsmen his sorrows are passed remedy Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war, Take wreak on Room for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court, We will afflict the Emperor in his pride. My Lord, I aim a mile beyond the Moon, Your letter is with Iubiter by this. This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot The Bull being galled, gave Aries such a knock, That down fell both the Rams horns in the Court, And who should find them but the Empress villain: She laughed, and told the More he should not choose, But give them to his Master for a present. 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. This will I do, and soon return again. You sad fa de men, people and sons of Room By uproars severed as a flight of fowl, Scattered by winds and high Tempes vous gus S, O let me teach you how to knit again, This scattered corn into one mutual sheaffe, These broken limbs again into one body. Now is my turn to speak, behold the child, Of this was Tamora delivered, The issue of and irreligious More, 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 course had Titus to revenge. These wrongs unspeakable passed patience, Or more than any living man could bear, Now have you herd the truth, what say you Romans Have we done ought amiss, show us wherein, And from the place where you behold us pleading, The poor remainder of Andronicie, Will hand in hand, all headlong hurl our selves, And on the ragged stones Beatrice forth our souls, And make a mutual closure of our house, Speak Roman speak, and if you say we Shall, Lo hand in hand Lucius and I will fallen. Lucius, all hail Rome's royal Emperor Go go into old Titus sorrowful house, And hither hale that misbelieving More, To be adjudge some direful slaughtering death, As punishment for his most wicked life. Lucius all hail Rome's gracious governor. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips, O were the sum of these that I should pay, Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them. 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 graven, Do them that kindness and take leave of them. With voices and applause of every sor ricians and Plebeans, we create worser Saturninus Rome's great Emperor, worser say Long live our Emperor Saturnine. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter, His Noble Nephew here in virtues nest, That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous: The Greeks upon advise did bury A ax That slew himself: and wise Laertes son, Did graciously plead for his Funerals: Let not young Mutius then that was thy joy, Be barred his entrance here. I thats my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his ungrateful Country done the Like. Now farewell flattery, die Andronicus, Thou dost not slumber, see thy two sons heads, Thy warlike hand, thy mangled Daughter here: Thy other banished son with this deer sighed, 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, Rend off thy silue hair, thy other hand, Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismal sighed The closing up of our most wretched eyes: Now is a time to storm, why art thou still? Lucius I will. Oh why should nature built so fowl a den. Unless the Gods delight in Tragedies, Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, These quarrels must be quietly debated, The feast is ready which the careful Titus, Hath ordainde to and honourable end, For peace, for love, for league and good to Room, Please you therefore, draw ni and take your places. Fit down sweet Niece, brother fit down by me, Apollo, Pallas, Jove or Mercury, Inspire me that I may this treason find, My Lord look here, look here Lavinia, This sandy plot is plain, guide if thou canst This after me, I have writ my name, Without the help of any hand at all. Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift: Write thou good Ne ce, 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, O do ye read my Lord what she hath writ, Stuprum, Chiron, Worser etrius. Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour. What means my Niece Lavinia by these signs I think she means that there were more than one Confederate in the fact, I more there was: Or else to heaven, she heaves them for revenge.