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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    The most Lamentable Tragedie
    Here stands the spring whome you haue staind with mud,
    2460This goodly sommer with your winter mixt,
    You kild her husband, and for that vild fault,
    Two of her brothers were condemnd to death,
    My hand cut off and made a merrie iest,
    Both her sweete hands, hir tongue, and that more deare
    2465Than hands or tongue, her spotlesse chastitie,
    Inhumane traitors you constraind and forst.
    What would you say if I should let you speake?
    Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace.
    Harke wretches how I meane to marter you,
    2470This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
    Whiles that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold,
    The bason that receaues your guiltie blood.
    You know your Mother meanes to feast with me,
    And calles herselfe Reuenge and thinks me mad.
    2475Harke villaines I will grinde your bones to dust,
    And with your blood and it Ile make a paste,
    And of the paste a coffen I will reare,
    And make two pasties of your shamefull heades,
    And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam,
    2480Like to the earth swallow her owne increase.
    This is the feast that I haue bid her too,
    And this the banket she shall surfet on,
    For worse than Philomell you vsde my daughter,
    And worse than Progne I will be reuengd.
    2485And now prepare your throats, Lauinia come,
    Receaue the blood, and when that they are dead,
    Let me goe grinde their bones to powder small,
    And with this hatefull liquour temper it,
    And in that paste let their vile heades be bakt,
    2490Come, come, be euerie one officius,
    To make this banket which I wish may proue
    More sterne and bloodie than the Centaurs feast,
    He cuts their throats.
    So now bring them in for Ile play the Cooke,