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  • Title: Titus Andronicus (Folio, 1623)

    • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Titus Andronicus (Folio, 1623)

    34The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus.
    To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome.
    350Tit. These words are Razors to my wounded hart.
    Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes,
    That like the stately Thebe mong'st her Nimphs
    Dost ouer-shine the Gallant'st Dames of Rome,
    If thou be pleas'd with this my sodaine choyse,
    355Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride,
    And will Create thee Empresse of Rome.
    Speake Queene of Goths dost thou applau'd my choyse?
    And heere I sweare by all the Romaine Gods,
    Sith Priest and Holy-water are so neere,
    360And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing
    In readines for Hymeneus stand,
    I will not resalute the streets of Rome,
    Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place,
    I leade espous'd my Bride along with me,
    365Tamo. And heere in sight of heauen to Rome I sweare,
    If Saturnine aduance the Queen of Gothes,
    Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires,
    A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth.
    Satur. Ascend Faire Qeene,
    370Panthean Lords, accompany
    Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride,
    Sent by the heauens for Prince Saturnine,
    Whose wisedome hath her Fortune Conquered,
    There shall we Consummate our Spousall rites.
    375Exeunt 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?

    Enter Marcus and Titus Sonnes.

    380Mar O Titus see! O see what thou hast done!
    In a bad quarrell, slaine a Vertuous sonne.
    Tit. No foolish Tribune, no: No sonne of mine,
    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.
    Tit. Traytors away, he rest's not in this Tombe:
    This Monument fiue hundreth yeares hath stood,
    390Which I haue Sumptuously re-edified:
    Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors,
    Repose in Fame: None basely slaine in braules,
    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.
    Titus two Sonnes speakes.
    And shall, or him we will accompany.
    Ti. And shall! What villaine was it spake that word?
    400Titus sonne speakes.
    He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere.
    Tit. What would you bury him in my despight?
    Mar. No Noble Titus, but intreat of thee,
    To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
    405Tit. Marcus, Euen thou hast stroke vpon my Crest,
    And with these Boyes mine Honour thou hast wounded,
    My foes I doe repute you euery one.
    So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
    1.Sonne. He is not himselfe, let vs withdraw.
    4102.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.
    The Brother and the sonnes kneele.
    Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd.
    2.Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature speake.
    Tit. Speake thou no more if all the rest will speede.
    415Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my soule.
    Luc. Deare Father, soule and substance of vs all.
    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
    That slew himselfe: And Laertes sonne,
    Did graciously plead for his Funerals:
    Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy,
    425Be bar'd his entrance heere.
    Tit. Rise Marcus, rise,
    The dismall'st day is this that ere I saw,
    To be dishonored by my Sonnes in Rome:
    Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
    430They put him in the Tombe.
    Luc. There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy (friends
    Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe.
    They all kneele and say.
    No man shed teares for Noble Mutius,
    435He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause. Exit.
    Mar. My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps,
    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.

    Flourish.
    445Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moore
    at one doore. Enter at the other doore Bassianus and
    Lauinia with others.
    Sat. So Bassianus, you haue plaid your prize,
    God giue you ioy sir of your Gallant Bride.
    450Bass. And you of yours my Lord: I say no more,
    Nor wish no lesse, and so I take my leaue.
    Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power,
    Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape.
    Bass. Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my owne,
    455My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife?
    But let the lawes of Rome determine all,
    Meanewhile I am possest of that is mine.
    Sat. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with vs,
    But if we liue, weele be as sharpe with you.
    460Bass. My Lord, what I haue done as best I may,
    Answere I must, and shall do with my life,
    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,
    With his owne hand did slay his youngest Son,
    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,
    That hath expre'st himselfe in all his deeds,
    A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome.
    Tit. Prince Bassianus leaue to plead my Deeds,
    'Tis thou, and those, that haue dishonoured me,
    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
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