The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 65
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.
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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
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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.