1135Ti. Heare me graue fathers, noble Tribunes stay,

1136For pitty of mine age, whose youth was spent

1137In dangerous warres, whilst you securely slept:

1138For all my blood in Romes great quarrell shed,

1139For all the frosty nights that I haue watcht,

1140And for these bitter teares, which now you see,

1141Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheekes,

1142Be pittifull to my condemned Sonnes,

1143Whose soules is not corrupted as 'tis thought:

1144For two and twenty sonnes I neuer wept,

1145Because they died in honours lofty bed.

1147For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write

1148My harts deepe languor, and my soules sad teares:

1149Let my teares stanch the earths drie appetite.

1150My sonnes sweet blood, will make it shame and blush:

1151O earth! I will befriend thee more with raine Exeunt

1152That shall distill from these two ancient ruines,

1153Then youthfull Aprill shall with all his showres

1154In summers drought: Ile drop vpon thee still,

1155In Winter with warme teares Ile melt the snow,

1156And keepe erernall springtime on thy face,

1157So thou refuse to drinke my deare sonnes blood.

1159Oh reuerent Tribunes, oh gentle aged men,

1160Vnbinde my sonnes, reuerse the doome of death,

1161And let me say (that neuer wept before)

1162My teares are now preualing Oratours.

1163Lu. Oh noble father, you lament in vaine,

1164The Tribunes heare not, no man is by,

1165And you recount your sorrowes to a stone.

1166Ti. Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead,

1167Graue Tribunes, once more I intreat of you.

1168Lu. My gracious Lord, no Tribune heares you speake.

1169Ti. Why 'tis no matter man, if they did heare

1170They would not marke me: oh if they did heare

1171They would not pitty me.

1172Therefore I tell my sorrowes bootles to the stones.

1173Who though they cannot answere my distresse,

1174Yet in some sort they are better then the Tribunes,

1175For that they will not intercept my tale;

1176When I doe weepe, they humbly at my feete

1177Receiue my teares, and seeme to weepe with me,

1178And were they but attired in graue weedes,

1179Rome could afford no Tribune like to these.

1180A stone is as soft waxe,

1181Tribunes more hard then stones:

1182A stone is silent, and offendeth not,

1183And Tribunes with their tongues doome men to death.

1184But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawne?

1185Lu. To rescue my two brothers from their death,

1186For which attempt the Iudges haue pronounc'st

1187My euerlasting doome of banishment.

1188Ti. O happy man, they haue befriended thee:

1189Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceiue

1190That Rome is but a wildernes of Tigers?

1191Tigers must pray, and Rome affords no prey

1192But me and and mine: how happy art thou then,

1193From these deuourers to be banished?

1194But who comes with our brother Marcus heere?

1196Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weepe,

1197Or if not so, thy noble heart to breake:

1198I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

1199Ti. Will it consume me? Let me see it then.

1200Mar. This was thy daughter.

1201Ti. Why Marcus so she is.

1202Luc. Aye me this obiect kils me.

1203Ti. Faint-harted boy, arise and looke vpon her,

1204Speake Lauinia, what accursed hand

1205Hath made thee handlesse in thy Fathers sight?

1206What foole hath added water to the Sea?

1207Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy?

1208My griefe was at the height before thou cam'st,

1209And now like Nylus it disdaineth bounds:

1210Giue me a sword, Ile chop off my hands too,

1211For they haue fought for Rome, and all in vaine:

1212And they haue nur'st this woe,

1213In feeding life:

1214In bootelesse prayer haue they bene held vp,

1215And they haue seru'd me to effectlesse vse.

1216Now all the seruice I require of them,

1217Is that the one will helpe to cut the other:

1218'Tis well Lauinia, that thou hast no hands,

1219For hands to do Rome seruice, is but vaine.

1220Luci. Speake gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee?

1221Mar. O that delightfull engine of her thoughts,

1222That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence,

1223Is torne from forth that pretty hollow cage,

1224Where like a sweet mellodius bird it sung,

1225Sweet varied notes inchanting euery eare.

1226Luci. Oh say thou for her,

1227Who hath done this deed?

1228Marc. Oh thus I found her straying in the Parke,

1229Seeking to hide herselfe as doth the Deare

1230That hath receiude some vnrecuring wound.

1231Tit. It was my Deare,

1232And he that wounded her,

1233Hath hurt me more, then had he kild me dead:

1234For now I stand as one vpon a Rocke,

1235Inuiron'd with a wildernesse of Sea.

1236Who markes the waxing tide,

1237Grow waue by waue,

The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus. 41

1238Expecting euer when some enuious surge,

1239Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

1240This way to death my wretched sonnes are gone:

1241Heere stands my other sonne, a banisht man,

1242And heere my brother weeping at my woes.

1243But that which giues my soule the greatest spurne,

1244Is deere Lauinia, deerer then my soule.

1245Had I but seene thy picture in this plight,

1246It would haue madded me. What shall I doe?

1247Now I behold thy liuely body so?

1248Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy teares,

1249Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:

1250Thy husband he is dead, and for his death

1251Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.

1252Looke Marcus, ah sonne Lucius looke on her:

1253When I did name her brothers, then fresh teares

1254Stood on her cheekes, as doth the hony dew,

1255Vpon a gathred Lillie almost withered.,

1256Mar. Perchance she weepes because they kil'd her

1257husband,

1258Perchance because she knowes him innocent.

1259Ti. If they did kill thy husband then be ioyfull,

1260Because the law hath tane reuenge on them.

1261No, no, they would not doe so foule a deede,

1262Witnes the sorrow that their sister makes.

1263Gentle Lauinia let me kisse thy lips,

1264Or make some signes how I may do thee ease:

1265Shall thy good Vncle, and thy brother Lucius,

1266And thou and I sit round about some Fountaine,

1267Looking all downewards to behold our cheekes

1268How they are stain'd in meadowes, yet not dry

1269With miery slime left on them by a flood:

1270And in the Fountaine shall we gaze so long,

1271Till the fresh taste be taken from that cleerenes,

1272And made a brine pit with our bitter teares?

1273Or shall we cut away our hands like thine?

1274Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumbe shewes

1275Passe the remainder of our hatefull dayes?

1276What shall we doe? Let vs that haue our tongues

1277Plot some deuise of further miseries

1278To make vs wondred at in time to come.

1279Lu. Sweet Father cease your teares, for at your griefe

1280See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.

1281Mar. Patience deere Neece, good Titus drie thine

1282eyes.

1283Ti. Ah Marcus, Marcus, Brother well I wot,

1284Thy napkin cannot drinke a teare of mine,

1285For thou poore man hast drown'd it with thine owne.

1286Lu. Ah my Lauinia I will wipe thy cheekes.

1287Ti Marke Marcus marke, I vnderstand her signes,

1288Had she a tongue to speake, now would she say

1289That to her brother which I said to thee.

1290His Napkin with her true teares all bewet,

1291Can do no seruice on her sorrowfull cheekes.

1292Oh what a simpathy of woe is this!

1293As farre from helpe as Limbo is from blisse,

1295Moore. Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperour,

1296Sends thee this word, that if thou loue thy sonnes,

1297Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyselfe old Titus,

1298Or any one of you, chop off your hand,

1299And send it to the King: he for the same,

1300Will send thee hither both thy sonnes aliue,

1301And that shall be the ransome for their fault.

1302Ti. Oh gracious Emperour, oh gentle Aaron.

1303Did euer Rauen sing so like a Larke,

1304That giues sweet tydings of the Sunnes vprise?

1305With all my heart, Ile send the Emperour my hand,

1306Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off?

1307Lu. Stay Father, for that noble hand of thine,

1308That hath throwne downe so many enemies,

1309Shall not be sent: my hand will serue the turne,

1310My youth can better spare my blood then you,

1311And therfore mine shall saue my brothers liues.

1312Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,

1313And rear'd aloft the bloody Battleaxe,

1314Writing destruction on the enemies Castle?

1315Oh none of both but are of high desert:

1316My hand hath bin but idle, let it serue

1317To ransome my two nephewes from their death,

1318Then haue I kept it to a worthy end.

1319Moore. Nay come agree, whose hand shall goe along

1320For feare they die before their pardon come.

1321Mar. My hand shall goe.

1322Lu. By heauen it shall not goe.

1323Ti. Sirs striue no more, such withered hearbs as these

1324Are meete for plucking vp, and therefore mine.

1325Lu. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy sonne,

1326Let me redeeme my brothers both from death.

1327Mar. And for our fathers sake, and mothers care,

1328Now let me shew a brothers loue to thee.

1329Ti. Agree betweene you, I will spare my hand.

1330Lu. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe.

1331Mar. But I will vse the Axe. Exeunt

1332Ti. Come hither Aaron, Ile deceiue them both,

1333Lend me thy hand, and I will giue thee mine,

1334Moore. If that be cal'd deceit, I will be honest,

1335And neuer whil'st I liue deceiue men so:

1336But Ile deceiue you in another sort,

1337And that you'l say ere halfe an houre passe.

1340Ti. Now stay you strife, what shall be, is dispatcht:

1341Good Aron giue his Maiestie me hand,

1342Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

1343From thousand dangers: bid him bury it:

1344More hath it merited: That let it haue.

1345As for for my sonnes, say I account of them,

1346As iewels purchast at an easie price,

1347And yet deere too, because I bought mine owne.

1348Aron. I goe Andronicus, and for thy hand,

1349Looke by and by to haue thy sonnes with thee:

1350Their heads I meane: Oh how this villany

1351Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it.

1352Let fooles doe good, and faire men call for grace,

1353Aron will haue his soule blacke like his face. Exit.

1354Ti. O heere I lift this one hand vp to heauen,

1355And bow this feeble ruine to the earth,

1356If any power pitties wretched teares,

1357To that I call: what wilt thou kneele with me?

1358Doe then deare heart, for heauen shall heare our prayers,

1359Or with our sighs weele breath the welkin dimme,

1360And staine the Sun with fogge as somtime cloudes,

1361When they do hug him in their melting bosomes.

1362Mar. Oh brother speake with possibilities,

1363And do not breake into these deepe extreames.

1364Ti. Is not my sorrow deepe, hauing no bottome?

dd₃ Then

42The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus.

1365Then be my passions bottomlesse with them.

1366Mar. But yet let reason gouerne thy lament.

1367Titus. If there were reason for these miseries,

1368Then into limits could I binde my woes:

1369When heauen doth weepe, doth not the earth oreflow?

1370If the windes rage, doth not the Sea wax mad,

1371Threatning the welkin with his big-swolne face?

1372And wilt thou haue a reason for this coile?

1373I am the Sea. Harke how her sighes doe flow:

1374Shee is the weeping welkin, I the earth:

1375Then must my Sea be moued with her sighes,

1376Then must my earth with her continuall teares,

1377Become a deluge: ouerflow'd and drown'd:

1378For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes,

1379But like a drunkard must I vomit them:

1380Then giue me leaue, for loosers will haue leaue,

1381To ease their stomackes with their bitter tongues,

1383Me"ss". Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid,

1384For that good hand thou sentst the Emperour:

1385Heere are the heads of thy two noble sonnes.

1386And heeres thy hand in scorne to thee sent backe:

1387Thy griefes, their sports: Thy resolution mockt,

1388That woe is me to thinke vpon thy woes,

1389More then remembrance of my fathers death. Exit.

1390Marc. Now let hot AEtna coole in Cicilie,

1391And be my heart an euer-burning hell:

1392These miseries are more then may be borne.

1393To weepe with them that weepe, doth ease some deale,

1394But sorrow flouted at, is double death.

1395Luci. Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound,

1396And yet detested life not shrinke thereat:

1397That euer death should let life beare his name,

1398Where life hath no more interest but to breath.

1399Mar. Alas poore hart that kisse is comfortlesse,

1400As frozen water to a starued snake.

1401Titus. When will this fearefull slumber haue an end?

1402Mar. Now farwell flatterie, die Andronicus,

1403Thou dost not slumber, see thy two sons heads,

1404Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here:

1405Thy other banisht sonnes with this deere sight

1406Strucke pale and bloodlesse, and thy brother I,

1407Euen like a stony Image, cold and numme.

1408Ah now no more will I controule my griefes,

1409Rent off thy siluer haire, thy other hand

1410Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismall sight

1411The closing vp of our most wretched eyes:

1412Now is a time to storme, why art thou still?

1413Titus. Ha, ha, ha,

1414Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this houre.

1415Ti. Why I haue not another teare to shed:

1416Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,

1417And would vsurpe vpon my watry eyes,

1418And make them blinde with tributarie teares.

1419Then which way shall I finde Reuenges Caue?

1420For these two heads doe seeme to speake to me,

1421And threat me, I shall neuer come to blisse,

1422Till all these mischiefes be returned againe,

1423Euen in their throats that haue committed them.

1424Come let me see what taske I haue to doe,

1425You heauie people, circle me about,

1426That I may turne me to each one of you,

1427And sweare vnto my soule to right your wrongs.

1428The vow is made, come Brother take a head,

1429And in this hand the other will I beare.

1430And Lauinia thou shalt be employd in these things:

1431Beare thou my hand sweet wench betweene thy teeth:

1432As for thee boy, goe get thee from my sight,

1433Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay,

1434Hie to the Gothes, and raise an army there,

1435And if you loue me, as I thinke you doe,

1436Let's kisse and part, for we haue much to doe. Exeunt.

1438Luci. Farewell Andronicus my noble Father:

1439The woful'st man that euer liu'd in Rome:

1440Farewell proud Rome, til Lucius come againe,

1441He loues his pledges dearer then his life:

1442Farewell Lauinia my noble sister,

1443O would thou wert as thou tofore hast beene,

1444But now, nor Lucius nor Lauinia liues

1445But in obliuion and hateful griefes:

1446If Lucius liue, he will requit your wrongs,

1447And make proud Saturnine and his Empresse

1448Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his Queene.

1449Now will I to the Gothes and raise a power,

1450To be reueng'd on Rome and Saturnine. Exit Lucius