Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  And how by this their child shall be advanced,

  And be received for the emperor’s heir,

  And substituted in the place of mine,

  To calm this tempest whirling in the court;

  And let the emperor dandle him for his own.

  Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic,

  Pointing to the nurse

  And you must needs bestow her funeral;

  The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms:

  This done, see that you take no longer days,

  But send the midwife presently to me.

  The midwife and the nurse well made away,

  Then let the ladies tattle what they please.

  Chiron

  Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air

  With secrets.

  Demetrius

  For this care of Tamora,

  Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.

  Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron bearing off the Nurse’s body

  Aaron

  Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies;

  There to dispose this treasure in mine arms,

  And secretly to greet the empress’ friends.

  Come on, you thick lipp’d slave, I’ll bear you hence;

  For it is you that puts us to our shifts:

  I’ll make you feed on berries and on roots,

  And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat,

  And cabin in a cave, and bring you up

  To be a warrior, and command a camp.

  Exit

  SCENE III. THE SAME. A PUBLIC PLACE.

  Enter Titus, bearing arrows with letters at the ends of them; with him, Marcus, Young Lucius, Publius, Sempronius, Caius, and other Gentlemen, with bows

  Titus Andronicus

  Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way.

  Sir boy, now let me see your archery;

  Look ye draw home enough, and ’tis there straight.

  Terras Astraea reliquit:

  Be you remember’d, Marcus, she’s gone, she’s fled.

  Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall

  Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;

  Happily you may catch her in the sea;

  Yet there’s as little justice as at land:

  No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;

  ’Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,

  And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:

  Then, when you come to Pluto’s region,

  I pray you, deliver him this petition;

  Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,

  And that it comes from old Andronicus,

  Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.

  Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable

  What time I threw the people’s suffrages

  On him that thus doth tyrannize o’er me.

  Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,

  And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch’d:

  This wicked emperor may have shipp’d her hence;

  And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

  Marcus Andronicus

  O Publius, is not this a heavy case,

  To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

  Publius

  Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns

  By day and night to attend him carefully,

  And feed his humour kindly as we may,

  Till time beget some careful remedy.

  Marcus Andronicus

  Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.

  Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war

  Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,

  And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

  Titus Andronicus

  Publius, how now! how now, my masters!

  What, have you met with her?

  Publius

  No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,

  If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:

  Marry, for Justice, she is so employ’d,

  He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,

  So that perforce you must needs stay a time.

  Titus Andronicus

  He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.

  I’ll dive into the burning lake below,

  And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.

  Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we

  No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops’ size;

  But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,

  Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:

  And, sith there’s no justice in earth nor hell,

  We will solicit heaven and move the gods

  To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.

  Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;

  He gives them the arrows

  ‘Ad Jovem,’ that’s for you: here, ‘Ad Apollinem:’

  ‘Ad Martem,’ that’s for myself:

  Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:

  To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;

  You were as good to shoot against the wind.

  To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.

  Of my word, I have written to effect;

  There’s not a god left unsolicited.

  Marcus Andronicus

  Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:

  We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

  Titus Andronicus

  Now, masters, draw.

  They shoot

  O, well said, Lucius!

  Good boy, in Virgo’s lap; give it Pallas.

  Marcus Andronicus

  My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;

  Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

  Titus Andronicus

  Ha, ha!

  Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?

  See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’ horns.

  Marcus Andronicus

  This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,

  The Bull, being gall’d, gave Aries such a knock

  That down fell both the Ram’s horns in the court;

  And who should find them but the empress’ villain?

  She laugh’d, and told the Moor he should not choose

  But give them to his master for a present.

  Titus Andronicus

  Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy!

  Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it

  News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.

  Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?

  Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?

  Clown

  O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.

  Titus Andronicus

  But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?

  Clown

  Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.

  Titus Andronicus

  Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?

  Clown

  Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.

  Titus Andronicus

  Why, didst thou not come from heaven?

  Clown

  From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial’s men.

  Marcus Andronicus

  Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.

  Titus Andronicus

  Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?

  Clown

  Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.

  Titus Andronicus

  Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado,

  But give your pigeons to the emperor:

  By me thou shalt ha
ve justice at his hands.

  Hold, hold; meanwhile here’s money for thy charges.

  Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?

  Clown

  Ay, sir.

  Titus Andronicus

  Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I’ll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely.

  Clown

  I warrant you, sir, let me alone.

  Titus Andronicus

  Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it.

  Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;

  For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.

  And when thou hast given it the emperor,

  Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.

  Clown

  God be with you, sir; I will.

  Titus Andronicus

  Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.

  Exeunt

  SCENE IV. THE SAME. BEFORE THE PALACE.

  Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron, Lords, and others; Saturninus with the arrows in his hand that Titus shot

  Saturninus

  Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen

  An emperor in Rome thus overborne,

  Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent

  Of egal justice, used in such contempt?

  My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,

  However these disturbers of our peace

  Buz in the people’s ears, there nought hath pass’d,

  But even with law, against the willful sons

  Of old Andronicus. And what an if

  His sorrows have so overwhelm’d his wits,

  Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks,

  His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness?

  And now he writes to heaven for his redress:

  See, here’s to Jove, and this to Mercury;

  This to Apollo; this to the god of war;

  Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome!

  What’s this but libelling against the senate,

  And blazoning our injustice every where?

  A goodly humour, is it not, my lords?

  As who would say, in Rome no justice were.

  But if I live, his feigned ecstasies

  Shall be no shelter to these outrages:

  But he and his shall know that justice lives

  In Saturninus’ health, whom, if she sleep,

  He’ll so awake as she in fury shall

  Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives.

  Tamora

  My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,

  Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,

  Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus’ age,

  The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,

  Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr’d his heart;

  And rather comfort his distressed plight

  Than prosecute the meanest or the best

  For these contempts.

  Aside

  Why, thus it shall become

  High-witted Tamora to gloze with all:

  But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick,

  Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,

  Then is all safe, the anchor’s in the port.

  Enter Clown

  How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us?

  Clown

  Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.

  Tamora

  Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.

  Clown

  ’Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den:

  I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.

  Saturninus reads the letter

  Saturninus

  Go, take him away, and hang him presently.

  Clown

  How much money must I have?

  Tamora

  Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.

  Clown

  Hanged! by’r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.

  Exit, guarded

  Saturninus

  Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!

  Shall I endure this monstrous villany?

  I know from whence this same device proceeds:

  May this be borne?— as if his traitorous sons,

  That died by law for murder of our brother,

  Have by my means been butcher’d wrongfully!

  Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;

  Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege:

  For this proud mock I’ll be thy slaughterman;

  Sly frantic wretch, that holp’st to make me great,

  In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

  Enter Aemilius

  What news with thee, Aemilius?

  Aemilius

  Arm, arm, my lord;— Rome never had more cause.

  The Goths have gather’d head; and with a power

  High-resolved men, bent to the spoil,

  They hither march amain, under conduct

  Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;

  Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do

  As much as ever Coriolanus did.

  Saturninus

  Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?

  These tidings nip me, and I hang the head

  As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms:

  Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach:

  ’Tis he the common people love so much;

  Myself hath often over-heard them say,

  When I have walked like a private man,

  That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully,

  And they have wish’d that Lucius were their emperor.

  Tamora

  Why should you fear? is not your city strong?

  Saturninus

  Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius,

  And will revolt from me to succor him.

  Tamora

  King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.

  Is the sun dimm’d, that gnats do fly in it?

  The eagle suffers little birds to sing,

  And is not careful what they mean thereby,

  Knowing that with the shadow of his wings

  He can at pleasure stint their melody:

  Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.

  Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor,

  I will enchant the old Andronicus

  With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous,

  Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep,

  When as the one is wounded with the bait,

  The other rotted with delicious feed.

  Saturninus

  But he will not entreat his son for us.

  Tamora

  If Tamora entreat him, then he will:

  For I can smooth and fill his aged ear

  With golden promises; that, were his heart

  Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,

  Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.

  To Aemilius

  Go thou before, be our ambassador:

  Say that the emperor requests a parley

  Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting

  Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus.

  Saturninus

  Aemilius, do this message honourably:

  And if he stand on hostage for his safety,

  Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

  Aemilius

  Your bidding shall I do effectually.

  Exit

  Tamora

  Now will I to that old Andronicus;

  And temper him with all the art I have,

  To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.

  And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again,

  And bury all thy fear in my devices.

  Saturninus

  T
hen go successantly, and plead to him.

  Exeunt

  ACT V

  SCENE I. PLAINS NEAR ROME.

  Enter Lucius with an army of Goths, with drum and colours

  Lucius

  Approved warriors, and my faithful friends,

  I have received letters from great Rome,

  Which signify what hate they bear their emperor

  And how desirous of our sight they are.

  Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness,

  Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,

  And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,

  Let him make treble satisfaction.

  First Goth

  Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,

  Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;

  Whose high exploits and honourable deeds

  Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,

  Be bold in us: we’ll follow where thou lead’st,

  Like stinging bees in hottest summer’s day

  Led by their master to the flowered fields,

  And be avenged on cursed Tamora.

  All the Goths

  And as he saith, so say we all with him.

  Lucius

  I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

  But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?

  Enter a Goth, leading Aaron with his Child in his arms

  Second Goth

  Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray’d

  To gaze upon a ruinous monastery;

  And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye

  Upon the wasted building, suddenly

  I heard a child cry underneath a wall.

  I made unto the noise; when soon I heard

  The crying babe controll’d with this discourse:

  ‘Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam!

  Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,

  Had nature lent thee but thy mother’s look,

  Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor:

  But where the bull and cow are both milk-white,

  They never do beget a coal-black calf.

  Peace, villain, peace!’— even thus he rates the babe,—

  ‘For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth;

  Who, when he knows thou art the empress’ babe,

  Will hold thee dearly for thy mother’s sake.’

  With this, my weapon drawn, I rush’d upon him,

  Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither,

  To use as you think needful of the man.

  Lucius

  O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil

  That robb’d Andronicus of his good hand;

  This is the pearl that pleased your empress’ eye,

  And here’s the base fruit of his burning lust.

  Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey

  This growing image of thy fiend-like face?

  Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word?