Titus Andronicus (Folio, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
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Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.
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Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft And then
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enter Saturninus and his Followers at one doore,
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and Bassianus and his Followers at the
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other, with Drum & Colours.
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Saturninus.
¶NOble Patricians, Patrons of my right,
¶And Countrey-men, my louing Followers,
¶That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome:
¶Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me,
¶Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie.
15Bassianus. Romaines, Friends, Followers,
¶Fauourers of my Right:
¶Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome,
¶Th'Imperiall Seate to Vertue: consecrate
¶To Iustice, Continence, and Nobility:
¶And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice.
¶Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends,
¶Ambitiously for Rule and Empery:
¶Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand
¶A speciall Party, haue by Common voyce
30In Election for the Romane Emperie,
¶Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious,
¶For many good and great deserts to Rome.
¶A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour,
¶Liues not this day within the City Walles.
35He by the Senate is accited home
¶From weary Warres against the barbarous Gothes,
¶That with his Sonnes (a terror to our Foes)
¶Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes.
¶Our Enemies pride. Fiue times he hath return'd
¶Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes
¶In Coffins from the Field.
¶And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles,
45Returnes the good Andronicus to Rome,
¶Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes.
¶Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name,
¶Whom (worthily) you would haue now succeede,
¶And in the Capitoll and Senates right,
50Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore,
¶That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength,
55To calme my thoughts.
¶And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine,
¶Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes,
60And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled all)
¶Gracious Lauinia, Romes rich Ornament,
¶And to my Fortunes, and the Peoples Fauour,
¶Commit my Cause in ballance to be weigh'd.
¶Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene
¶Thus forward in my Right,
¶And to the Loue and Fauour of my Countrey,
¶Rome, be as iust and gracious vnto me,
¶As I am confident and kinde to thee.
¶Open the Gates, and let me in.
¶Bassia. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.
¶Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus,
¶Patron of Vertue, Romes best Champion,
80With Honour and with Fortune is return'd,
¶From whence he circumscribed with his Sword,
¶And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.
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Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered
90Andronicus. Haile Rome:
¶Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes:
¶Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught,
¶Returnes with precious lading to the Bay,
95Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes,
¶To resalute his Country with his teares,
¶Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome,
¶Thou great defender of this Capitoll,
¶Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend.
100Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes,
¶Halfe of the number that King Priam had,
¶Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead!
¶These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue:
¶Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword:
¶To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix?
110Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.
¶There greete in silence as the dead are wont,
¶O sacred receptacle of my ioyes,
115Sweet Cell of vertue and Noblitie,
¶That thou wilt neuer render to me more?
¶That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile
¶Before this earthly prison of their bones,
¶Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.
¶Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror,
¶Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed,
¶And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee,
130Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee.
¶Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
¶To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne
¶Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake,
135For Valiant doings in their Countries cause?
¶O! If to fight for King and Common-weale,
¶Were piety in thine, it is in these:
¶Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood.
¶Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods?
140Draw neere them then in being mercifull.
¶Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge,
¶These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld
145Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine,
150And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood,
¶Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.
¶Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety.
¶To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes,
160With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge
¶Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,
¶May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes,
¶(When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene)
¶To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes.
¶Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd
¶Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt,
170Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren,
¶And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome.
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Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.
¶In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes,
¶Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps:
180Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no stormes,
¶In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes.
¶Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long,
185My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame:
¶Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares,
¶I render for my Bretherens Obsequies:
¶And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy
¶Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome.
¶Ti. Kind Rome,
¶The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart,
195Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes:
¶And Fames eternall date for vertues praise.
¶Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother,
¶Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome.
¶Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune,
200Noble brother Marcus.
¶Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all,
¶That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords.
205But safer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe,
¶That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines,
¶And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed.
¶Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
210Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust,
¶And name thee in Election for the Empire,
¶Be Candidatus then, and put it on,
¶Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits,
¶What should I d'on this Robe and trouble you,
¶Be chosen with proclamations to day,
220To morrow yeeld vp rule, resigne my life,
¶Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares,
¶And buried one and twenty Valiant Sonnes,
225Knighted in Field, slaine manfully in Armes,
¶In right and Seruice of their Noble Countrie:
¶Giue me a staffe of Honour for mine age,
¶But not a Scepter to controule the world,
¶Vpright he held it Lords, that held it last.
¶Titus. Patience Prince Saturninus.
¶Sat. Romaines do me right.
¶Patricians draw your Swords, and sheath them not
235Till Saturninus be Romes Emperour:
¶Andronicus would thou wert shipt to hell,
¶Rather then rob me of the peoples harts.
¶Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
¶That Noble minded Titus meanes to thee.
¶The peoples harts, and weane them from themselues.
¶Bass. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee
¶But Honour thee, and will doe till I die:
¶My Faction if thou strengthen with thy Friend?
245I will most thankefull be, and thankes to men
¶Of Noble mindes, is Honourable Meede.
¶Tit. People of Rome, and Noble Tribunes heere,
¶I aske your voyces and your Suffrages,
¶Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
250Tribunes. To gratifie the good Andronicus,
¶And Gratulate his safe returne to Rome,
¶The people will accept whom he admits.
255Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope,
¶Reflect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth,
¶And ripen Iustice in this Common-weale:
¶Then if you will elect by my aduise,
¶Crowne him, and say: Long liue our Emperour.
¶Patricians and Plebeans we Create
¶Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour.
¶And say, Long liue our Emperour Saturnine.
265Satu. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done,
¶To vs in our Election this day,
¶I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deserts,
¶And for an Onset Titus to aduance
270Thy Name, and Honorable Familie,
¶Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee?
275Tit. It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match,
¶I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace,
¶And heere in sight of Rome, to Saturnine,
¶King and Commander of our Common-weale,
¶The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Consecrate,
280My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prisonerss,
¶Presents well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord:
¶Receiue them then, the Tribute that I owe,
¶Mine Honours Ensignes humbled at my feete.
¶Satu. Thankes Noble Titus, Father of my life,
285How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts
¶Rome shall record, and when I do forget
¶Romans forget your Fealtie to me.
290To him that for you Honour and your State,
¶Will vse you Nobly and your followers.
¶Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance,
295Though chance of warre
¶Hath wrought this change of cheere,
300Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you,
¶Can make your Greater then the Queene of Gothes?
¶Lauinia you are not displeas'd with this?
¶Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and Drum.
¶Bass. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine.
¶This Prince in Iustice ceazeth but his owne.
315Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde?
¶Sat. Surpris'd, by whom?
¶Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away.
320Muti. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away,
¶And with my Sword Ile keepe this doore safe.
330Traytor restore Lauinia to the Emperour.
¶Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife,
¶That is anothers lawfull promist Loue.
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sonnes, and Aaron the Moore.
335Empe. No Titus, no, the Emperour needs her not,
¶Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stocke:
¶Thee neuer: nor thy Trayterous haughty sonnes,
¶Confederates all, thus to dishonour me.
340Was none in Rome to make a stale
¶But Saturnine? Full well Andronicus
¶Agree these Deeds, with that proud bragge of thine,
345Sat. But goe thy wayes, goe giue that changing peece,
¶To him that flourisht for her with his Sword:
¶To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome.
¶Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes,
355Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride,
¶And heere I sweare by all the Romaine Gods,
360And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing
¶In readines for Hymeneus stand,
¶Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place,
¶I leade espous'd my Bride along with me,
¶If Saturnine aduance the Queen of Gothes,
¶Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires,
¶A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth.
370Panthean Lords, accompany
¶Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride,
¶Sent by the heauens for Prince Saturnine,
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Exeunt omnes.
¶Tit. I am not bid to waite vpon this Bride:
¶Titus when wer't thou wont to walke alone,
¶Dishonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs?
¶Nor thou, nor these Confedrates in the deed,
¶That hath dishonoured all our Family,
385Vnworthy brother, and vnworthy Sonnes.
¶Luci. But let vs giue him buriall as becomes:
¶Giue Mutius buriall with our Bretheren.
¶This Monument fiue hundreth yeares hath stood,
390Which I haue Sumptuously re-edified:
¶Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors,
¶Bury him where you can, he comes not heere.
¶Mar. My Lord this is impiety in you,
395My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him,
¶He must be buried with his bretheren.
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Titus two Sonnes speakes.
¶And shall, or him we will accompany.
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Titus sonne speakes.
¶He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere.
¶Mar. No Noble Titus, but intreat of thee,
¶To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
¶My foes I doe repute you euery one.
¶So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
4102.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.
¶Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd.
¶Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre
¶His Noble Nephew heere in vertues nest,
¶That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause.
420Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous:
¶The Greekes vpon aduise did bury Aiax
¶Did graciously plead for his Funerals:
¶Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy,
425Be bar'd his entrance heere.
¶To be dishonored by my Sonnes in Rome:
¶Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
¶Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe.
¶No man shed teares for Noble Mutius,
435He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause.
Exit.
¶How comes it that the subtile Queene of Gothes,
¶Is of a sodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome?
¶Ti. I know not Marcus: but I know it is,
440(Whether by deuise or no) the heauens can tell,
¶Is she not then beholding to the man,
¶That brought her for this high good turne so farre?
¶Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.
445
_Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moore
¶God giue you ioy sir of your Gallant Bride.
¶Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power,
¶Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape.
455My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife?
¶But let the lawes of Rome determine all,
¶But if we liue, weele be as sharpe with you.
¶Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know,
¶By all the duties that I owe to Rome,
¶This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere,
465Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd,
¶That in the rescue of Lauinia,
¶In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath.
¶To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue:
470Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine,
¶A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome.
475Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge,
¶How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine.
¶Tam. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora,
¶Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine,
¶Then heare me speake indifferently for all:
¶And basely put it vp without reuenge?
¶The Gods of Rome fore-fend,
¶But on mine honour dare, I vndertake
¶For good Lord Titus innocence in all:
¶Nor with sowre lookes afflict his gentle heart.
¶My Lord, be rul'd by me, be wonne at last,
¶You are but newly planted in your Throne,
495Least then the people, and Patricians too,
¶Which Rome reputes to be a hainous sinne.
¶Yeeld at intreats, and then let me alone:
¶And race their faction, and their familie,
¶The cruell Father, and his trayt'rous sonnes,
¶And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene.
505Kneele in the streetes, and beg for grace in vaine.
¶Come, come, sweet Emperour, (come Andronicus)
¶Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart,
¶That dies in tempest of thy angry frowne.
¶And her my Lord.
¶Infuse new life in me.
515Tamo. Titus, I am incorparate in Rome,
¶A Roman now adopted happily.
¶This day all quarrels die Andronicus.
¶And let it be mine honour good my Lord,
520That I haue reconcil'd your friends and you.
¶My word and promise to the Emperour,
¶That you will be more milde and tractable.
¶And feare not Lords:
525And you Lauinia,
¶By my aduise all humbled on your knees,
¶Son. We doe,
¶And vow to heauen, and to his Highnes,
530That what we did, was mildly, as we might,
¶King. Away and talke not, trouble vs no more.
¶Tamora. Nay, nay,
535Sweet Emperour, we must all be friends,
¶The Tribune and his Nephews kneele for grace,
¶I will not be denied, sweet hart looke back.
¶King. Marcus,
¶For thy sake and thy brothers heere,
540And at my louely Tamora's intreats,
¶I doe remit these young mens haynous faults.
¶Stand vp: Lauinia, though you left me like a churle,
¶I would not part a Batchellour from the Priest.
545Come, if the Emperours Court can feast two Brides,
¶You are my guest Lauinia, and your friends:
¶This day shall be a Loue-day Tamora.
¶To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me,
550With horne and Hound,
¶Weele giue your Grace Bon iour.
