Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Not Peer Reviewed

Titus Andronicus (Quarto 1, 1594)


of Titus Andronicus.
Tis true, tis true, witnes my kniues sharpe point.
He stabs the Empresse.
Emperour. Die franticke wretch for this accursed deede,
Lucius. Can the sonnes eie behold his father bleede?
2570Ther's meede for meede, death for a deadly deede.
Marcus. You sad facde men, people and sons of Rome
By vprores seuerd as a flight of fowle,
Scatterd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
Oh let me teach you how to knit againe,
2575This scattered corne into one mutuall sheaffe,
These broken limbs againe into one bodie.
Romane Lord. Let Rome her selfe bee bane vnto her
And shee whome mightie kingdomes cursie too,
Like a forlorne and desperate cast away,
2580Doe shamefull execution on her selfe.
But if my frostie signes and chappes of age,
Graue witnesses of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,
Speake Roomes deare friend as erst our Ancestor,
2585when with his solemne tongue he did discourse
To loue sicke Didoes sad attending eare,
The storie of that balefull burning night,
VVhen subtile Greekes surprizd King Priams Troy.
Tell vs what Sinon hath bewicht our eares,
2590Or who hath brought the fatall engine in
That giues our Troy, our Rome the ciuill wound.
My hart is not compact of flint nor steele,
Nor can I vtter all our bitter greefe,
But flouds of teares will drowne my Oratorie,
2595And breake my vttrance euen in the time,
VVhen it should moue yee to attend me most,
And force you to commiseration,
Her's Romes young Captaine let him tell the tale,
VVhile I stand by and weepe to heare him speake.
2600Lucius. Then gratious auditorie be it knowne to you,
That Chiron and the damn'd Demetrius,
K3
were