The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 649
your warrior's hand, your mangled daughter there;
your other exiled son struck pale and terrified
with this awful sight, and me, your brother,
cold and numb like a statue.
I will no longer tell you to hold your grief in check:
tear out your silver hair, chew off your
other hand with your teeth, and let this terrible sight
close up our wretched eyes.
Now is the time to rage. Why are you calm?
TITUS.
Ha, ha, ha!
Hah, hah, hah!
MARCUS.
Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour.
Why are you laughing? It doesn't suit this time.
TITUS.
Why, I have not another tear to shed;
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,
And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes
And make them blind with tributary tears.
Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave?
For these two heads do seem to speak to me,
And threat me I shall never come to bliss
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again
Even in their throats that have committed them.
Come, let me see what task I have to do.
You heavy people, circle me about,
That I may turn me to each one of you
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.
The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head,
And in this hand the other will I bear.
And, Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in this;
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.
As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight;
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay.
Hie to the Goths and raise an army there;
And if ye love me, as I think you do,
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
Exeunt all but Lucius
Why? I have no more tears to shed.
Besides, sorrow is an enemy
that wants to overthrow my watery eyes
and blind them with my tears.
Then how would I find my way to the home of revenge?
These two heads seem to speak to me
and tell me that I shall never find happiness
until these evil deeds are thrown back
in the faces of those who did them.
Come, let me see what has to be done.
You sad people, gather around me,
so that I can turn to each one of you
and swear to myself that I will revenge your wrongs.
We have made a vow. Come, brother, take a head,
and I will carry the other in this hand.
And, Lavinia, you shall have a job:
carry my hand, sweet girl, between your teeth.
As for you, boy, take yourself out of my sight:
you are an exile and you must not stay here;
go to the Goths and raise an army there,
and if you love me, as I think you do,
let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.
LUCIUS.
Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father,
The woefull'st man that ever liv'd in Rome.
Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been!
But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives
But in oblivion and hateful griefs.
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs
And make proud Saturnine and his emperess
Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen.
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a pow'r
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine.
Exit
Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father,
the saddest man that ever lived in Rome.
Farewell, proud Rome; until Lucius comes again,
he leaves guarantees dearer than his life.
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;
oh, if only you were the same as you were before!
But now neither Lucius nor Lavinia lives
except in their oblivion and hateful griefs.
If I live I will revenge the wrongs which have been done to you
and makeproud Saturnine and his Empress
beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen.
Now I will go to the Goths and raise an army,
to take revenge on Rome and Saturnine.
A banquet.
Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and the boy YOUNG LUCIUS
TITUS.
So so, now sit; and look you eat no more
Than will preserve just so much strength in us
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot;
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
Then thus I thump it down.
[To LAVINIA] Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;
Or get some little knife between thy teeth
And just against thy heart make thou a hole,
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
May run into that sink and, soaking in,
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
So, now sit down; and make sure you eat just enough
to keep us just strong enough
to take revenge for our bitter sorrows.
Marcus, don't hug yourself in sorrow;
your niece and I, poor creatures, are missing our hands,
and cannot express our ten times worse sorrows
by folding our arms.This poor right hand of mine
is left to thump my breast;
when my heart is mad with misery
and thumps inside my body's prison
then I thump it down like this.
You sorrowful figure, that has to talk in sign language!
When your poor heart thumps with sorrow,
you can't strike it like this to calm it.
Wound it with your sighs, girl, kill it with your groans;
or take a little knife between your teeth
and make a hole next to your heart,
so that all the tears that fall from your poor eyes
run down to that hole and sinking in
drown your sorrowing heart with salty tears.
MARCUS.
Fie, brother, fie! Teach her not thus to lay
Such violent hands upon her tender life.
Stop it, brother!Don't encourage her to
do such violent deeds.
TITUS.
How now! Has sorrow made thee dote already?
Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.
What violent hands can she lay on her life?
Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands?
To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice o'er
How Troy was burnt and he made miserable?
O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
Lest we remember still that we have none.
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,
As if we should forget we had no hands,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands!
Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:
Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says-
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;
She says she drinks no o
ther drink but tears,
Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks.
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect
As begging hermits in their holy prayers.
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
But I of these will wrest an alphabet,
And by still practice learn to know thy meaning.
What's this?Has sorrow made you feeble minded already?
Why, Marcus, no man has more right to be mad than I.
What violence can her hands do to her?
And why do you have to mention hands?
Would you make Aeneas tell the story twice
of how Troy was burned and he was made miserable?
Don't use the motif of hands in your talk,
to remind us that we have none.
Oh, how stupidly I talk,
as if we should forget that we have no hands
if Marcus didn't use the word hands!
Come, let's eat; and eat this, sweet girl:
there's no drink here.Listen to what she says, Marcus -
I can interpret all her tortured signs;
she says she drinks no other fluid than her tears,
brewed in her sorrow, mashed* on her cheeks. [*part of brewing]
Speechless speaker, I will learn what you think;
I will get to know your dumb signs as well
as begging hermits know their holy prayers.
You shall not sigh, nor hold your stumps up to heaven,
nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,
without me turning them into an alphabet,
and by careful study I shall learn what you mean.
BOY.
Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments;
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
Good grandfather, leave these sorrowful speeches alone;
cheer my aunt up with a merry story.
MARCUS.
Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
Alas, the sensitive boy, moved by emotion,
weeps to see his grandfather so sad.
TITUS.
Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
[MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife]
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?
Be calm, little one; you are full of tears,
and tears will quickly melt away your life.
What are you striking at, Marcus, with your knife?
MARCUS.
At that that I have kill'd, my lord- a fly.
At the thing I have killed, my lord - a fly.
TITUS.
Out on thee, murderer, thou kill'st my heart!
Mine eyes are cloy'd 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.
Get out murderer, you've stabbed at my heart!
My eyes are choked with seeing so much tyranny;
killing the innocent is not a fitting
deed for Titus' brother.Get out;
I see you are not fit for my company.
MARCUS.
Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
But, my lord, I've only killed a fly.
TITUS.
'But!' How if that fly had a father and mother?
How would he hang his slender gilded wings
And buzz lamenting doings in the air!
Poor harmless fly,
That with his pretty buzzing melody
Came here to make us merry! And thou hast kill'd him.
'Only!'What if that fly had a mother and a father?
How his slender shining wings would droop
and buzz sad laments in the air!
Poor harmless fly,
that with his pretty buzzing song
came here to cheer us up!And you have killed him.
MARCUS.
Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly,
Like to the Empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
Excuse me sir; it was a black ugly fly,
like the Empress' Moor; and so 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.
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.
Oh-ho!
Then excuse me for telling you off,
for you have done a good deed.
Give me your knife, I will attack him,
pretending it is the Moor,
come here deliberately to poison me.
That one's for you, and that one for Tamora.
Ah, sir!
I see we have not been brought down so low
that we can't kill a fly between us
which looks like a coal-black Moor.
MARCUS.
Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances.
Alas, poor man!Grief has so turned his mind,
that he mistakes phantoms for reality.
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
Come, clear the table.Lavinia, come with me;
I'll come to your room, and read with you
sad stories from the olden days.
Come, boy, come with me; your eyes are young,
and you shall read when my old eyes start to fade.
Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm.
Enter TITUS and MARCUS
BOY.
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.
Help, grandfather, help!My aunt Lavinia
follows me everywhere, I don't know why.
Good uncle Marcus, look how she rushes at me!
Alas, sweet aunt, I can't understand you.
MARCUS.
Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.
Stand next to me, Lucius; don't be frightened of your aunt.
TITUS.
She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
She loves you very much, boy, too much to harm you.
BOY.
Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.
Yes, she did when my father was in Rome.
MARCUS.
What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
What does my niece Lavinia mean by these signs?
TITUS.
Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean.
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.
Don't be frightened of her, Lucius; she does mean something.
See, Lucius, what a fuss she makes of you.
She wants you to go somewhere wit
h her.
Ah, boy, Cornelia never took more trouble
to read to her sons than she has, reading
you sweet poetry and Cicero on rhetoric.
MARCUS.
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
Can't you guess why she is so attentive to you?
BOY.
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.
My lord, I don't know, nor can I guess,
unless she's overcome with some fit or madness;
for I have often heard my grandfather say
that great grief could drive men mad;
and I have read that Hecuba of Troy
went mad through sorrow.That made me worry;
although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
loves me as dearly as my mother ever did,
and would not want to scare me unless she was in a rage;
that was what made me throw down my books and run-
there was no reason to, perhaps.But forgive me, sweet aunt;
and, madam, if my uncle Marcius is going,
I will be very happy to wait on your ladyship.
MARCUS.
Lucius, I will. [LAVINIA turns over with her
stumps the books which Lucius has let fall]
Lucius, that’s what I want.
TITUS.
How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this?
Some book there is that she desires to see.