Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Not Peer Reviewed

Titus Andronicus (Quarto 1, 1594)


of Titus Andronicus.
VVitnes the sorrow that their sister makes.
Gentle Lauinia, let me kisse thy lips,
Or make some signe how I may doe thee ease:
1265Shall thy good Vncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I,sit round about some Fountaine,
Looking all downewards to behold our cheekes,
How they are staind like meadowes yet not drie,
VVith mierie slime left on them by a flood?
1270And in the fountaine shall wee gaze so long,
Till the fresh tast be taken from that clearenes,
And made a brine pit with our bitter teares?
Or shall we cut away our hands like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues? and in dumbe showes
1275Passe the remainder of our hatefull daies?
VVhat shall we doe? Let vs that haue our tongues,
Plot some deuise of further miserie,
To make vs wonderd at in time to come.
Lucius. Sweete father cease your teares, for at your grief
1280See how my wretched sister sobs and weepes.
Marcus. Patience deare niece, good Titus dry thine eies.
Titus. Ah M arcus, Marcus, Brother well I wote,
Thy napkin cannot drinke a teare of mine,
1285For thou poore man, hast drownd it with thine owne.
Lucius. Ah my Lauinia, I will wipe thy cheekes.
Titus. Marke Marcus, marke, I vnderstand her signes,
Had shee a tongue to speake, now would shee say
That to her Brother, which I said to thee.
1290His napking with her true teares all bewet,
Can doe no seruice on her sorrowfull cheekes,
Oh what a simpathie of woe is this,
As farre from helpe, as Lymbo is from blisse.
Enter Aron the M oore alone.
1295Moore. Titus Andronicus, My Lord the Emperour,
Sends thee this word, that if thou loue thy sonnes,
Let M arcus, Lucius, or thy selfe olde Titus,
F
Or