Internet Shakespeare Editions


Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: Titus Andronicus (Quarto 1, 1594)

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Quarto 1, 1594)

    of Titus Andronicus.
    The worse to her the better lou'd of mee.
    Lauinia. Oh Tamora be calld a Gentle Queene,
    915And with thine owne hands kill me in this place,
    For tis not life that I haue begd so long,
    Poore I was slaine when Bascianus dide.
    Tamora. What begst thou then fond woman let me(goe?
    Lauinia. Tis present death I beg, and one thing more,
    920That woman-hood denies my tong to tell,
    Oh keepe me from there worse than killing lust,
    And tumble me into some lothsome pit,
    Where neuer mans eye may behold my bodie,
    Doe this and be a charitable murderer.
    925Tamora. So should I rob my sweet sonnes of their fee,
    No let them satisfiee their lust on thee.
    Demetrius. Away for thou hast staide vs here too long.
    Lauinia. No grace, no womanhood, ah beastly creature,
    The blot and enemie to our generall name,
    Confusion fall
    Chiron. Nay then Ile stop your mouth, bring thou her(husband,
    935This is the hole where Aron bid vs hide him.
    Tamora. Farewell my sons, see that you make her sure,
    Nere let my hart know merry cheare indeede,
    Till all the Andronicie be made away:
    Now will I hence to seeke my louely Moore,
    940And let my spleenfull sonnes this Trull defloure.

    Enter Aron with two of Titus sonnes.
    Come on my Lords the better foot before,
    Straight will I bring you to the lothsome pit,
    Where I espied the Panther fast asleepe.
    945Quintus. My sight is verie dull what ere it bodes.
    Mart. And mine I promise you, were it not for shame,
    Well could I leaue our sport to sleepe a while.
    Quintus. What art thou fallen what subtill hole is this,
    950Whose mouth is couered with rude growing briers,