TITUS

Hail Room, 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; Comes Andronicus, bound with Laurel bows, To resalute his Country with his tears, Tears of true joy for his return to Room, Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rights 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 sur iue, let Room reward with love: These that I bring unto their latest home, With but In l amongst their ancestors. Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my sword, Titus unkind, and careless of thine own, Why sufferest thou thy sons unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful h re of stix, Make way to lay them by their brothers. There greet in silence as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your Countries wars: Oh 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. I give him you the Noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed Queen. Patient your self Madam, and pardon me, These are their brothers, whom your Goths beheld Alive and dead, and for their brothers slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice: To this your son is mark , and die he must, T'appease their groaning shadows that are gone. Let it be so, and let Andronicus, Make this his latest farewell to their souls. In peace and honour rest you here my sons, Rooms readiest Champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps: Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned drug, here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep, In peace and honour rest you here my sons. In peace and honour, live Lord Titus long, My Noble Lord and father live in fame: Lo at this Tomb my tributary tears, I render for my brothers' obsequies: And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy Shed on this earth, for thy return to Room, Oh bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose Fortune's Rooms best Citizens applaud. Kind Room that hast thus lovingly reserude, The Cordial of mine age to glad my heart, Lavinia live, outlive thy father's days, And fame's eternal date for virtues praise. Thanks gentle Tribune, Noble brother Marcus. A better head her glorious body fits, Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: What should I done this Robe and trouble you? Be chosen with Proclamations to day, To morrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all. Room I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my Countries strength successfully, And buried one and twenty valiant sons Knighted in Field, slain manfully in Arms, In right and service of their Noble Country: Give me a staff of Honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world, Upright he held it Lords that held it last Patience Prince Saturninus. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee The peoples hearts, and wean them from themselves. People of Room, and peoples Tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages, Will ye bestow them friendly on Andronicus. Tribunes I thank you, and this suit I make, That you create our Emperors eldest son, Lord Sa urnine : whose virtues will I hope, Reflect on Room as Titus Rays on earth, And ripen justice in this Common weal: Then if you will elect by my advise, Crown him and say, Long live our Emperor. It does my worthy Lord, and in this match, I hold me highly Honoured of your Grace, And here in sighed of Room to Saturnine, King and Commander of our common weal, 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 honours Ensigns humbled at thy feet. Now Madam are you prisoner to and Emperor. To him that for your honour and your state, Will use you Nobly, and your followers. How sir, are you in earnest then my Lord? Traitors avant, where is the Emperors guard? Treason my Lord, Lavinia is surprised. Follow my Lord, and I'll soon bring her back. What villain boy, barst me my way in Room? Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine My sons would never so dishonour me, Traitor restore Lavinia to the Emperor. These words are razors to my wounded heart. I am not bid to wait upon this bride, Titus when Wertenberg thou wont to walk alone, Dishonoured thus and challenged of wrongs. No foolish Tribune, no: No son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed, That hath dishonoured all our Family, Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons. Traitors away, he rests not in this tomb This monument five hundredth years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously reedified: Here no e but soldiers and Rome's servitors Repose in fame: None basely slain in braule S Bury him where you can he comes not here. And shall what villain was it spoke that word? He that would vouch it n any place but here. What would you bury him in my despite? Marcus : Even thou hast stroke upon my Crest. And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded, My foes I do repute you every one, So trouble me no more, but get you gone. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. Rise Marcus, rise, The dismalst day is this that ere I saw, To be dishonoured by my sons in Room: Well bury him, and bury me the next. I know not Marcus, but I know it is. (Whither by devise or no, the heavens can tell.) Is she not then beholding to the man, That brought herfor this igh good turn so fair. Prince Bascianus leave to plead my deeds, 'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me, Room and the righteous heavens be my judge, How I have loud and honoured Saturnine. I thank your Maiesti , and her my Lord, These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. To morrow and it please your Majesty, To hunt the Panther and the Heart with me, With horn and hound, weel give your grace boniour. The hunt is up the Moon is bright and grey, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green, Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, And wake the Emperor, and his lovely Bride, And rouse the Prince, and ring a Hunter's peal, That all the Court may echo with the noise. Sons let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the Emperors person carefully: I have been troubled in my sleep this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspire. Many good morrows to your Majesty, Madam to you as many, and as good, I promised your Grace a Hunter's peal. And I have horse will follow where the game M k S way and runs Like swallows over the plain. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee, I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the faults be proud in them. I did my Lord, yet let me be their bail, For by my Father's reverent tomb I vow, They shall be ready at your highness will, To answer their suspicion with their lives. Come Lucius come, stay not to talk with them Hear me graven Father's, Noble Tribunes stay, For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whi st you securely slept. For all my blood in Rooms great quarrel shed, For all the frosty nights that I have watched, And for these bitter tears which now you see, Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls is not corrupted as 'tis thought. For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honours lofty bed, For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write My hearts deep languor, and my souls sad tears: Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite, My sons sweet blood will make it shame and blush: Oh earth I will be friend thee more with rain, That shall distil from these two ancient ruins, Than youthful April shall with all his showers. In sum S drought, I'll drop upon thee still, In win er with warm tears I'll melt the snow, And keep eternal pring time out high face, So thou refuse to drink my deer sons blood. O reverent Tribunes, O gentle aged men Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, And let me say, (that never wept before) My tears are now prevailing Orators. Ah Lucius, for thy brother's let me plead, ra e Tribunes, once more I entreat of you. 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 attired in graven weeds, Room could afford no Tribunes Like to these: A stone is soft as wax, Tribunes more hard than stones: A stone is silent, and offends not, And Tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore standest thou with thy weapon drawn? Oh happy man, they have befriended that e: why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Room is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers mu to pray, and Room affords no pray But me and mine, how happy art thou then, From these devourers to be banished. But who comes with our brother Marcus here? will it consume me? Let me see it then. why Marcus so she is. Faint-harted-boy, arise and look upon her, Speak Lavinea, what accursed hand, Hath made thee handles in thy father's sighed? what fool hath added water to the sea? Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou camest, And now Like Nylus it disdains bounds. Give me a sword I'll chop off my hands too, For they have fought for Room, and all in vain: And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life: In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectles 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 Room service is but vain. 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 oule the greatest spurn Is deer Lavinia, dearer than my soul. Had I but seen thy picture in this plighted, It would have madded me: what shall I do, Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyred thee: Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brother's are condemnde, and dead by this. Look Marcus, Ah son Lucius look on her, When I did name her brother's, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as does the honey Due, Upon a gathered Lily almost withered. If they did kill thy husband then be joyful, Because the Law hath to ne revenge on them. No, no, they would not do so fowl 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, fit round about some Fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks, How they are stained Like meadows yet not dry, With mierie 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 devise of further misery, To make us wondered at in time to come. 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. 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 napking with her true tears all hew , Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks O what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help, as ymbo is from bliss. O gracious Emperor, O gentle Aron, Did ever Raven sing so Like a Lark, That gives sweet tidings of the Suns uprise? With all my heart, I'll send the Emperor my hand, Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off? Sirs strive no more, such withered herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Agree between you, I will spare my hand. Come hither Aron, I'll deceive them both, Lend me thy would worser, and I will give thee mine. Now stay your strife, what shall be, is dispatched Good Aron 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 and easy price, And yet deer too, because I bought mine own. O here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth, If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call: what wouldst thou kneel with me? Do then deer heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers, Or with our sighs wele breath the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Is not my sorrow deep having no bottom? Then be my passion bottomless with them. If there were reason for these Misery's, Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven does weep, does not the earth overflow? If the winds rage, does not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his bigswolne face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea. Hark how her sighs does flow: She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs, Then must my earth with her continual tears, Become a deluge: overflowed and drowned: For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes, But Like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave, for losers' will have leave, To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. When will this fearful slumber have and end? Would, would, would. Why I have not another tear to shed; Beside this sorrow is and enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes, And make them blind with tributary tears. Then which way shall I find Revenges Cave, For these two heads do seem to speak to me And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, Till all these mischiefs be returned again, Even in their throats that hath committed them Come let me see what task I have to do, You heavy people cirkle 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 imployde in these Arms, Bear thou my hand sweet wench between thy teeth: As for thee boy, go get thee from my sighed, Thou art and Exile, and thou must not stay, High to the Goths and raise and army there, And if ye love me as I think you do, Lets kiss and partly for we have much to do. She loves thee boy too well to do thee harm. How now Lavinia, Marcus what means this? Some book there is that she desires to see: Which is it girl of these, open them boy, But thou art deeper read and better skilled, Come and take choice of all my Lybrarie, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damned contriver of this deed. Why lifts she up her Arms in sequence thus? Lucius what book is that she tosses so 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 trea S of Tereus treason and his rape, And rape I fear, was root of thy annoy, Lavinia Wertenberg thou thus surprised sweet girl? Ravished and wronged as Phlomela was, Frocd in the ruthless Vast and gloomy woods; See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt, (Oh had we never, never hunted that re,) Patternd by that the Poet here describes, By nature made for murders and for rapes, Give signs sweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman Lord it was durst do the deed? Or slonke not Saturnine as Tarquin erst, That left the Camp to sin in Lucrece bed Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides? 'Tis sure enough, and you knew how, But if you hunt these Bear whelps then beware, The Dam will wake and if she wind ye once, She's with the Lion deeply still in league, And luls him while she playeth on her back. And when he fleepes, 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 Sibels leaves a broad, And whereas our lesson then, boy what say you? Come go with me into mine Armory, Luci S le fit thee, and withal my boy Sh ll carry from me to the Empress sons, Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come, thoult do my message wilt thou not? 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, I marry will we sir, and weel be waited on. Ex unt. Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way, Sir boy let me see your Archery, Look ee draw home enough and 'tis there straight, Terras Astreáreliquit, be you remembered Marcus, She's gone, she's fled, sirs take you to your tools, You Cosens shall go found the Ocean, And cast your nets, happily you may catch her in the sea, Yet ther's as little justice as at land: No Publius and Sempronius, you must do it, 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, And pierce the inmost Centre of the earth, Then when you come to Pluto's Region, I pray you deliver him this petition, Tell him it is for justice and for aid, And that it comes from old Andronicus Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Room. Ah Room, well, well, I made thee miserable, What time I threw the peoples suffrages On him that thus does tyrannise over me. 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. Publius how now, how now my Master's, What have you met with her? He does me wrong to feed me with delays, I'll dive into the burning lake below, And pull her out of Acaron by the heals. Marcus we are but hrubs, no Cedars we, No big-boand-men framed of the Cyclops size, But mettle Marcus, steel to the very back, Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear: And sith ther's no justice in earth nor hell, We will solicit heaven and move the Gods, To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs: Come to this gear, you are a good Archer Marcus, And Jovem, thats for you, here and Apollonem, And Martem, thats for my self, Here boy to Pallas, here to Mercury, To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine, You were as good to shoot against the wind Too it boy, Marcus lose when I bid, Of my word I have written to effect, Ther's not a God left unsolicited. Now Master's draw, O well said Lucius, Good boy in Virgo's lap, give it Pallas. Would, would, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Ta rus horns. Why there it goes, God give his Lordship joy. Sirrah what tidings, have you any letters, Shall I have justice, what says Iubiter ? But what says Iubiter I ask thee? Why villain art not thou the Carrier. Why didst thou not come from heaven? Tell me, can you deliver and Oration to the Em perour with a grace. 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, mean while here's money for thy charges, Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a Supplication? 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. Sirrah hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. Here Marcus, fold it in the Oration, For thou hast made it Like and humble Suppliant. And when thou hast given it to the Emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Come Marcus let us go, Publius follow me. Who does molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me open the door, That so my saddecrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect. You are deceiude, for what I mean to do, See here in bloody lines I have set down. And what is written shall be executed. No not a word, how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give that accord, Thou hast the odds of me therefore no more. I am not mad, I know thee well enough, Witness this wretched S ump, 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. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies. 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 wherle along with thee about the Globes. Provide thee two proper palfrays, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away And find out murder in their guilty cares. And when thy Car is loaded with that ir heads I will dismount and by thy wagon wheel, rot Like a servile footman all day long, Even from Epeons 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. Are them thy ministers, what are they called? 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 More, Could not all hell afford you such a Devil? For well I wot the Empress never wags, But in her company there is a More. And would you represent our Queen a right, It were convenient you had such a Devil: But welcome as you are, what shall we do? Look round about the wicked streets of Room, And when thou findest a man that's Like thy self, Good murder stab him, he's a murderer. Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap, To find another that is Like to thee, Good Rapine stab him, he is a ravisher. Go thou with them, and in the Emperors Court, There is a Queen attended by a More, Well shalt thou know her by thine own proportion. For up and down she does resemble thee, I pray thee do on them some violent death, They have been violent to me and mine. Marcus my brother, 'tis sad Titus calls, Go gentle Marcus to thy nephew Lucius, Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths, Bid him repair to me and bring with him, Some of the chiefest Princes of the Goths, Bid him encamp his Soldiers where they are. Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them, This do thou for my love, and so let him, As he regards his aged Father's life. 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. I knew them all though they supposed me mad, And will over reach them in their own devises, A pair of cursed hell hounds and their Dame. I know thou dost and sweet Revenge farewell. Tut I have work enough for you to do Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine. Know you these two. Fie, Publius fie, thou art too much deceaude, The one is Murder and Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them gentle Publius, Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them, Oft have you herd me wish for such and hour, And now I find it therefore bind them sure, And stop their mouths if they begin to cry. Come, come, Lavinia look thy foes are bound, Sirs stop their mouths let them not speak to me, But let them hear what earefull words I utter. O villains Chiron and Worser metrius, Here stands the spring whom you have stained with mud, TO is goodly summer with your winter mixed, You killed her husband, and for that vild fault, Two of her brother's were condemned to death, My hand cut off and made a merry jest, Both her sweet hands, his tongue, and that more deer Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhumame 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, While that Lavinia tween her stumps does hold, The basin that receives your guilty blood. You know your Mother means to feast with me, And calls herself Revenge and thinks me mad. Hark villains I will grind your bones to dust, And with your blood and it I'll make a past, And of the past a coffen 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 too, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on, For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be revenged. And now prepare your throats, Lavinia come, Receive the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me go grind their bones to powder small, And with this hateful liquour temper it, And in that past let their vile heads be bakt, Come, come, be every one officius, 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, Welcome my Lord, welcome dread Queen ene, Welcome ye warlike Goths, welcome Lucius, And welcome all although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs, please you eat of it. Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your Empress. And if your highness knew my heart you were, My Lord the Emperor resolve me this, Was it well done of rash Viginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand Because she was inforced, stained, and deflowrde? A reason mighty, strong, and effectual, A pattern president, 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. Not I, it Chiron, and Demetrius, They Ravished her and cut away her tongue, And they, it they, that did her all this wrong. Why there they are both baked in this Pie. Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she her self hath bred, 'Tis true, 'tis true witness my knives sharp point. Oh monstrous, what reproachful words are these? Fear her not Luci S, somewhat does she mean, See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee: Some whither would she have the egoe with her. A boy, Cornelia never with more care, Read to her sons than she hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry and Tully's Orator: Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus. Good Lord how Like the Empress sons they are, And you the Empress, but we wordly men Have miserable mad mistaking eyes: O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee, And if one arms embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by. 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. Your reason mighty Lord. Wilt please you eat, wilt please your highness feed.