Complete Plays, The (3 page)

S
CENE
IV. A
NOTHER
PART
OF
THE
FOREST
.

A
CT
III

S
CENE
I. R
OME
. A
STREET
.

S
CENE
II. A
ROOM
IN
T
ITUS
’
S
HOUSE
. A
BANQUET
SET
OUT
.

A
CT
IV

S
CENE
I. R
OME
. T
ITUS
’
S
GARDEN
.

S
CENE
II. T
HE
SAME
. A
ROOM
IN
THE
PALACE
.

S
CENE
III. T
HE
SAME
. A
PUBLIC
PLACE
.

S
CENE
IV. T
HE
SAME
. B
EFORE
THE
PALACE
.

A
CT
V

S
CENE
I. P
LAINS
NEAR
R
OME
.

S
CENE
II. R
OME
. B
EFORE
T
ITUS
’
S
HOUSE
.

S
CENE
III. C
OURT
OF
T
ITUS
’
S
HOUSE
. A
BANQUET
SET
OUT
.

C
HARACTERS
OF
THE
P
LAY

Saturninus, son to the late Emperor of Rome, afterwards Emperor.
Bassianus, brother to Saturninus.
Titus Andronicus, a noble Roman.
Marcus Andronicus, Tribune of the People, and brother to Titus.

Lucius, Quintus, Martius, Mutius, sons to Titus Andronicus.

Young Lucius, a boy, son to Lucius.
Publius, son to Marcus Andronicus.

Sempronius, Caius, Valentine, kinsmen to Titus.

Aemilius, a noble Roman.

Alarbus, Demetrius, Chiron, sons to Tamora.

Aaron, a Moor, beloved by Tamora.
A Captain.
A Messenger.
A Clown.

Tamora, Queen of the Goths.
Lavinia, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
A Nurse, and a black Child.
Romans and Goths, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants.

Scene: Rome and the neighbourhood.

A
CT
I

S
CENE
I. R
OME
. B
EFORE
THE
C
APITOL
.

The Tomb of the Andronici appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, Saturninus and his Followers; and, from the other side, Bassianus and his Followers; with drum and colours

Saturninus

Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms,
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father’s honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.

Bassianus

Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right,
If ever Bassianus, Caesar’s son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence and nobility;
But let desert in pure election shine,
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

Enter Marcus Andronicus, aloft, with the crown

Marcus Andronicus

Princes, that strive by factions and by friends
Ambitiously for rule and empery,
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party, have, by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius
For many good and great deserts to Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accit’d home
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yoked a nation strong, train’d up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome and chastised with arms
Our enemies’ pride: five times he hath return’d
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;
And now at last, laden with horror’s spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat, by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed.
And in the Capitol and senate’s right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
That you withdraw you and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.

Saturninus

How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!

Bassianus

Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome’s rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people’s favor
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh’d.

Exeunt the followers of Bassianus

Saturninus

Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,
I thank you all and here dismiss you all,
And to the love and favor of my country
Commit myself, my person and the cause.

Exeunt the followers of Saturninus

Rome, be as just and gracious unto me
As I am confident and kind to thee.
Open the gates, and let me in.

Bassianus

Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.

Flourish. Saturninus and Bassianus go up into the Capitol

Enter a Captain

Captain

Romans, make way: the good Andronicus.
Patron of virtue, Rome’s best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is return’d
From where he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.

Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter Martius and Mutius; After them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then Lucius and Quintus. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, with Alarbus, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the coffin, and Titus speaks

Titus Andronicus

Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,
Returns with precious jading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh’d her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive let Rome reward with love;
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.
Titus, unkind and careless of thine own,
Why suffer’st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.

The tomb is opened

There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country’s wars!
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!

Lucius

Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeased,
Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth.

Titus Andronicus

I give him you, the noblest that survives,
The eldest son of this distressed queen.

Tamora

Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother’s tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my son to be as dear to me!
Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome,
To beautify thy triumphs and return,
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke,
But must my sons be slaughter’d in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country’s cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge:
Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son.

Titus Andronicus

Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark’d, and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.

Lucius

Away with him! and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let’s hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.

Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with Alarbus

Tamora

O cruel, irreligious piety!

Chiron

Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?

Demetrius

Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
To tremble under Titus’ threatening looks.
Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal
The self-same gods that arm’d the Queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths —
When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen —
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.

Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius and Mutius, with their swords bloody

Lucius

See, lord and father, how we have perform’d
Our Roman rites: Alarbus’ limbs are lopp’d,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud ’larums welcome them to Rome.

Titus Andronicus

Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome’s readiest champions, repose you here in rest,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!

Enter Lavinia

Lavinia

In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
I render, for my brethren’s obsequies;
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome’s best citizens applaud!

Titus Andronicus

Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father’s days,
And fame’s eternal date, for virtue’s praise!

Enter, below, Marcus Andronicus and Tribunes; re-enter Saturninus and Bassianus, attended

Marcus Andronicus

Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

Titus Andronicus

Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

Marcus Andronicus

And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country’s service drew your swords:
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath aspired to Solon’s happiness
And triumphs over chance in honour’s bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue;
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late-deceased emperor’s sons:
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.

Titus Andronicus

A better head her glorious body fits
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country’s strength successfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world:
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.