The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

Home > Fiction > The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works > Page 65
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 65

by William Shakespeare


  Mine eyes are cloyed with view of tyranny.

  A deed of death done on the innocent

  Becomes not Titus’ brother. Get thee gone.

  I see thou art not for my company.

  MARCUS

  Alas, my lord, I have but killed a fly.

  TITUS

  ‘But’? How if that fly had a father, brother?

  How would he hang his slender gilded wings

  And buzz lamenting dirges in the air!

  Poor harmless fly,

  That with his pretty buzzing melody

  Came here to make us merry—and thou hast killed him!

  MARCUS

  Pardon me, sir, it was a black ill-favoured fly,

  Like to the Empress’ Moor. Therefore I killed him.

  TITUS O, O, O!

  Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

  For thou hast done a charitable deed.

  Give me thy knife. I will insult on him,

  Flattering myself as if it were the Moor

  Come hither purposely to poison me.

  He takes a knife and strikes

  There’s for thyself, and that’s for Tamora. Ah, sirrah!

  Yet I think we are not brought so low

  But that between us we can kill a fly

  That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.

  MARCUS

  Alas, poor man! Grief has so wrought on him

  He takes false shadows for true substances.

  TITUS

  Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me.

  I’ll to thy closet and go read with thee

  Sad stories chanced in the times of old.

  Come, boy, and go with me. Thy sight is young,

  And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.

  Exeunt

  4.1 Enter Lucius’ son and Lavinia running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm. Enter Titus and Marcus

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  Help, grandsire, help! My aunt Lavinia

  Follows me everywhere, I know not why.

  Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.

  Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

  ⌈He drops his books⌉

  MARCUS

  Stand by me, Lucius. Do not fear thine aunt.

  TITUS

  She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

  MARCUS

  What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

  TITUS

  Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean. ⌈MARCUS⌉

  See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee.

  Somewhither would she have thee go with her.

  Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

  Read to her sons than she hath read to thee

  Sweet poetry and Tully’s Orator.

  Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,

  Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her;

  For I have heard my grandsire say full oft

  Extremity of griefs would make men mad,

  And I have read that Hecuba of Troy

  Ran mad for sorrow. That made me to fear,

  Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt

  Loves me as dear as e’er my mother did,

  And would not but in fury fright my youth,

  Which made me down to throw my books and fly,

  Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt;

  And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go

  I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

  MARCUS

  Lucius, I will.

  Lavinia turns the books over with her stumps

  TITUS

  How now, Lavinia? Marcus, what means this?

  Some book there is that she desires to see.

  Which is it, girl, of these?-Open them, boy.

  (To Lavinia) But thou art deeper read and better skilled.

  Come and take choice of all my library,

  And so beguile thy sorrow till the heavens

  Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.—

  Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

  MARCUS

  I think she means that there were more than one

  Confederate in the fact. Ay, more there was,

  Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

  TITUS

  Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  Grandsire, ’tis Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

  My mother gave it me.

  MARCUS

  For love of her that’s gone,

  Perhaps, she culled it from among the rest.

  TITUS

  Soft, so busily she turns the leaves.

  Help her. What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?

  This is the tragic tale of Philomel,

  And treats of Tereus’ treason and his rape,

  And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy.

  MARCUS

  See, brother, see. Note how she quotes the leaves.

  TITUS

  Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,

  Ravished and wronged as Philomela was,

  Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?

  See, see. Ay, such a place there is where we did

  hunt—

  O, had we never, never hunted there!—

  Patterned by that the poet here describes,

  By nature made for murders and for rapes.

  MARCUS

  O, why should nature build so foul a den,

  Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

  TITUS

  Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends,

  What Roman lord it was durst do the deed.

  Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,

  That left the camp to sin in Lucrece’ bed?

  MARCUS

  Sit down, sweet niece. Brother, sit down by me.

  They sit

  Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury

  Inspire me, that I may this treason find.

  My lord, look here. Look here, Lavinia.

  This sandy plot is plain. Guide if thou canst

  This after me.

  He writes his name with his staff, and guides it

  with feet and mouth

  I here have writ my name

  Without the help of any hand at all.

  Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!

  Write thou, good niece, and here display at last

  What God will have discovered for revenge.

  Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,

  That we may know the traitors and the truth.

  She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with

  her stumps, and writes

  O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?

  ⌈TITUS⌉ ‘Stuprum—Chiron—Demetrius.’

  MARCUS

  What, what!—The lustful sons of Tamora

  Performers of this heinous bloody deed?

  TITUS

  Magni dominator poli,

  Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?

  MARCUS

  O, calm thee, gentle lord, although I know

  There is enough written upon this earth

  To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts,

  And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.

  My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;

  And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector’s hope,

  All kneel

  And swear with me—as, with the woeful fere

  And father of that chaste dishonoured dame

  Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece’ rape—

  That we will prosecute by good advice

  Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,

  And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
/>
  They rise

  TITUS

  ’Tis sure enough an you knew how,

  But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware.

  The dam will wake, and if she wind ye once

  She’s with the lion deeply still in league,

  And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,

  And when he sleeps will she do what she list.

  You are a young huntsman, Marcus. Let alone,

  And come, I will go get a leaf of brass

  And with a gad of steel will write these words,

  And lay it by. The angry northern wind

  Will blow these sands like Sibyl’s leaves abroad,

  And where’s our lesson then? Boy, what say you?

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  I say, my lord, that if I were a man

  Their mother’s bedchamber should not be safe

  For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome.

  MARCUS

  Ay, that’s my boy! Thy father hath full oft

  For his ungrateful country done the like.

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

  TITUS

  Come go with me into mine armoury.

  Lucius, I’ll fit thee; and withal, my boy,

  Shall carry from me to the Empress’ sons

  Presents that I intend to send them both.

  Come, come, thou’lt do my message, wilt thou not?

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.

  TITUS

  No, boy, not so. I’ll teach thee another course.

  Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house.

  Lucius and I’ll go brave it at the court.

  Ay, marry, will we, sir, and we’ll be waited on.

  Exeunt all but Marcus

  MARCUS

  O heavens, can you hear a good man groan

  And not relent, or not compassion him?

  Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,

  That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart

  Than foemen’s marks upon his battered shield,

  But yet so just that he will not revenge.

  Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! Exit

  4.2 Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius at one door, and at the other door young Lucius and another with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them

  CHIRON

  Demetrius, here’s the son of Lucius.

  He hath some message to deliver us.

  AARON

  Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

  YOUNG LUCIUS

  My lords, with all the humbleness I may

  I greet your honours from Andronicus

  (Aside) And pray the Roman gods confound you both.

  DEMETRIUS

  Gramercy, lovely Lucius. What’s the news?

  YOUNG LUCIUS (aside)

  That you are both deciphered, that’s the news,

  For villains marked with rape. (Aloud) May it please

  you,

  My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me

  The goodliest weapons of his armoury

  To gratify your honourable youth,

  The hope of Rome, for so he bid me say;

  His attendant gives the weapons

  And so I do, and with his gifts present

  Your lordships that, whenever you have need,

  You may be armed and appointed well;

  And so I leave you both (aside) like bloody villains.

  Exit with attendant

  DEMETRIUS

  What’s here—a scroll, and written round about?

  Let’s see.

  ‘Integer vitae, scelerisque purus,

  Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arcu.’

  CHIRON

  O, ’tis a verse in Horace, I know it well.

  I read it in the grammar long ago.

  AARON

  Ay, just, a verse in Horace; right, you have it.

  (Aside) Now what a thing it is to be an ass!

  Here’s no sound jest. The old man hath found their

  guilt,

  And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines

  That wound beyond their feeling to the quick.

  But were our witty Empress well afoot

  She would applaud Andronicus’ conceit.

  But let her rest in her unrest a while.

  (To Chiron and Demetrius)

  And now, young lords, was’t not a happy star

  Led us to Rome, strangers and, more than so,

  Captives, to be advanced to this height?

  It did me good before the palace gate

  To brave the Tribune in his brother’s hearing.

  DEMETRIUS

  But me more good to see so great a lord

  Basely insinuate and send us gifts.

  AARON

  Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?

  Did you not use his daughter very friendly?

  DEMETRIUS

  I would we had a thousand Roman dames

  At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.

  CHIRON

  A charitable wish, and full of love.

  AARON

  Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.

  CHIRON

  And that would she, for twenty thousand more.

  DEMETRIUS

  Come, let us go and pray to all the gods

  For our beloved mother in her pains.

  AARON

  Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.

  Trumpets sound

  DEMETRIUS

  Why do the Emperor’s trumpets flourish thus?

  CHIRON

  Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son.

  DEMETRIUS

  Soft, who comes here?

  Enter Nurse with a blackamoor child

  NURSE

  Good morrow, lords.

  O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

  AARON

  Well, more or less, or ne’er a whit at all,

  Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now?

  NURSE

  O gentle Aaron, we are all undone.

  Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

  AARON

  Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!

  What dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms?

  NURSE

  O, that which I would hide from heaven’s eye,

  Our Empress’ shame and stately Rome’s disgrace.

  She is delivered, lords, she is delivered.

  AARON

  To whom?

  NURSE

  I mean she is brought abed.

  AARON

  Well, God give her good rest. What hath he sent her?

  NURSE

  A devil.

  AARON

  Why then, she is the devil’s dam.

  A joyful issue!

  NURSE

  A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue.

  Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad

  Amongst the fair-faced breeders of our clime.

  The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,

  And bids thee christen it with thy dagger’s point.

  AARON

  Zounds, ye whore, is black so base a hue?

  Sweet blowze, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

  DEMETRIUS

  Villain, what hast thou done?

  AARON

  That which thou canst not undo.

  CHIRON

  Thou hast undone our mother. AARON

  Villain, I have done thy mother.

  DEMETRIUS

  And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone her.

  Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice,

  Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend.

  CHIRON

  It shall not live.

  AARON

  It shall not die.

  NURSE

  Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so.

  AARON

&nb
sp; What, must it, nurse? Then let no man but I

  Do execution on my flesh and blood.

  DEMETRIUS

  I’ll broach the tadpole on my rapier’s point.

  Nurse, give it me. My sword shall soon dispatch it.

  AARON

  Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.

  He takes the child and draws his sword

  Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother?

  Now, by the burning tapers of the sky

  That shone so brightly when this boy was got,

  He dies upon my scimitar’s sharp point

  That touches this, my first-born son and heir.

  I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus

  With all his threat’ning band of Typhon’s brood,

  Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war

  Shall seize this prey out of his father’s hands.

  What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys,

  Ye whitelimed walls, ye alehouse painted signs,

  Coal-black is better than another hue

  In that it scorns to bear another hue;

  For all the water in the ocean

  Can never turn the swan’s black legs to white,

  Although she lave them hourly in the flood.

  Tell the Empress from me I am of age

  To keep mine own, excuse it how she can.

  DEMETRIUS

  Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?

  AARON

  My mistress is my mistress, this myself,

  The figure and the picture of my youth.

  This before all the world do I prefer;

  This maugre all the world will I keep safe,

  Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. no

  DEMETRIUS

  By this our mother is for ever shamed.

  CHIRON

  Rome will despise her for this foul escape.

  NURSE

  The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.

  CHIRON

  I blush to think upon this ignomy.

  AARON

  Why, there’s the privilege your beauty bears.

  Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing

  The close enacts and counsels of thy heart.

  Here’s a young lad framed of another leer.

  Look how the black slave smiles upon the father,

  As who should say ‘Old lad, I am thine own.’

  He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed

  Of that self blood that first gave life to you,

  And from that womb where you imprisoned were

  He is enfranchised and come to light.

  Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,

  Although my seal be stamped in his face.

 

‹ Prev