Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    Ioine with the Gothes, and with reuengefull warre,
    Take wreake on Rome for this ingratitude,
    1900And vengeance on the traitour Saturnine.
    Titus. Publius how now, how now my Masters,
    What haue you met with her?
    Publius. No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word,
    If you will haue reuenge from hell you shall,
    1905Marrie for Iustice shee is so imploid,
    He thinks with Ioue in heauen, or somewhere else,
    So that perforce you must needs staie a time.
    Titus. He doth me wrong to feede me with delaies,
    Ile diue into the burning lake belowe,
    1910And pull her out of Acaron by the heeles.
    Marcus we are but shrubs, no Cedars wee,
    No big-boand-men framde of the Cyclops size,
    But mettall Marcus, steele to the verie backe,
    Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can beare:
    1915And sith ther's no iustice in earth nor hell,
    We will sollicite heauen and moue the Gods,
    To send downe Iustice for to wreake our wrongs:
    Come to this geare, you are a good Archer Marcus,
    He giues them the Arrowes.
    1920Ad Iouem, thats for you, here ad Apollonem,
    Ad Martem, thats for myselfe,
    Here boy to Pallas, here to Mercurie,
    To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine,
    You were as good to shoote against the winde.
    1925Too it boy, Marcus loose when I bid,
    Of my word I haue written to effect,
    Ther's not a God left vnsollicited.
    Marcus. Kinsemen, shoot all your shafts into the Court,
    Wee will afflict the Emperour in his pride.
    1930Titus. Now Masters draw, Oh well said Lucius,
    Good boy in Virgoes lappe, giue it Pallas.
    Marcus. My Lord, I aime a mile beyond the Moone,
    H Your