Complete Plays, The
Page 4
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!
Tamora
I know not what it means; away with her!
Lavinia
O, let me teach thee! for my father’s sake,
That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee,
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.
Tamora
Hadst thou in person ne’er offended me,
Even for his sake am I pitiless.
Remember, boys, I pour’d forth tears in vain,
To save your brother from the sacrifice;
But fierce Andronicus would not relent;
Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will,
The worse to her, the better loved of me.
Lavinia
O Tamora, be call’d a gentle queen,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place!
For ’tis not life that I have begg’d so long;
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.
Tamora
What begg’st thou, then? fond woman, let me go.
Lavinia
’Tis present death I beg; and one thing more
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
Where never man’s eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Tamora
So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Demetrius
Away! for thou hast stay’d us here too long.
Lavinia
No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!
The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall —
Chiron
Nay, then I’ll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband:
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
Demetrius throws the body of Bassianus into the pit; then exeunt Demetrius and Chiron, dragging off Lavinia
Tamora
Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure.
Ne’er let my heart know merry cheer indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away.
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow’r.
Exit
Re-enter Aaron, with Quintus and Martius
Aaron
Come on, my lords, the better foot before:
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
Where I espied the panther fast asleep.
Quintus
My sight is very dull, whate’er it bodes.
Martius
And mine, I promise you; were’t not for shame,
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
Falls into the pit
Quintus
What art thou fall’n? What subtle hole is this,
Whose mouth is cover’d with rude-growing briers,
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
As fresh as morning dew distill’d on flowers?
A very fatal place it seems to me.
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
Martius
O brother, with the dismall’st object hurt
That ever eye with sight made heart lament!
Aaron
[Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here,
That he thereby may give a likely guess
How these were they that made away his brother.
Exit
Martius
Why dost not comfort me, and help me out
From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole?
Quintus
I am surprised with an uncouth fear;
A chilling sweat o’er-runs my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
Martius
To prove thou hast a true-divining heart,
Aaron and thou look down into this den,
And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
Quintus
Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise;
O, tell me how it is; for ne’er till now
Was I a child to fear I know not what.
Martius
Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here,
All on a heap, like to a slaughter’d lamb,
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
Quintus
If it be dark, how dost thou know ’tis he?
Martius
Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of the pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus
When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood.
O brother, help me with thy fainting hand —
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath —
Out of this fell devouring receptacle,
As hateful as Cocytus’ misty mouth.
Quintus
Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out;
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good,
I may be pluck’d into the swallowing womb
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus’ grave.
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
Martius
Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.
Quintus
Thy hand once more; I will not loose again,
Till thou art here aloft, or I below:
Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee.
Falls in
Enter Saturninus with Aaron
Saturninus
Along with me: I’ll see what hole is here,
And what he is that now is leap’d into it.
Say who art thou that lately didst descend
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
Martius
The unhappy son of old Andronicus:
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.
Saturninus
My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest:
He and his lady both are at the lodge
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase;
’Tis not an hour since I left him there.
Martius
We know not where you left him all alive;
But, out, alas! here have we found him dead.
Re-enter Tamora, with Attendants; Titus Andronicus, and Lucius
Tamora
Where is my lord the king?
Saturninus
Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief.
Tamora
Where is thy brother Bassianus?
Saturninus
Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound:
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
Tamora
Then all too late I bring this fatal writ,
The complot of this timeless tragedy;
And wonder greatly that man’s face can fold
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny.
She giveth Saturninus a letter
Saturninus
[Reads] ‘An if we miss to meet him handsomely —
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus ’tis we mean —
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him:
Thou know’st our meaning. Look for thy reward
Among the nettles at the elder-tree
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus.
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.’
This is the pit, and this the elder-tree.
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out
That should have murdered Bassianus here.
Aaron
My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
Saturninus
[To Titus] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind,
Have here bereft my brother of his life.
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison:
There let them bide until we have devised
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them.
Tamora
What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing!
How easily murder is discovered!
Titus Andronicus
High emperor, upon my feeble knee
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed,
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,
Accursed if the fault be proved in them,—
Saturninus
If it be proved! you see it is apparent.
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
Tamora
Andronicus himself did take it up.
Titus Andronicus
I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail;
For, by my father’s reverend tomb, I vow
They shall be ready at your highness’ will
To answer their suspicion with their lives.
Saturninus
Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me.
Some bring the murder’d body, some the murderers:
Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain;
For, by my soul, were there worse end than death,
That end upon them should be executed.
Tamora
Andronicus, I will entreat the king;
Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough.
Titus Andronicus
Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FOREST.
Enter Demetrius and Chiron with Lavinia, ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out
Demetrius
So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
Who ’twas that cut thy tongue and ravish’d thee.
Chiron
Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,
An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.
Demetrius
See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
Chiron
Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.
Demetrius
She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash;
And so let’s leave her to her silent walks.
Chiron
An ’twere my case, I should go hang myself.
Demetrius
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron
Enter Marcus
Marcus
Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!
Cousin, a word; where is your husband?
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!
If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp’d and hew’d and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
And might not gain so great a happiness
As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr’d with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,
And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame!
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan’s face
Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say ’tis so?
O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
That I might rail at him, to ease my mind!
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp’d,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew’d her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew’d than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch’d them for his life!
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp’d his knife, and fell asleep
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet’s feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
For such a sight will blind a father’s eye:
One hour’s storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father’s eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee
O, could our mourning ease thy misery!
Exeunt
ACT III
SCENE I. ROME. A STREET.
Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with Martius and Quintus, bound, passing on to the place of execution; Titus going before, pleading
Titus Andronicus
Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome’s great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch’d;
And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as ’tis thought.
For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour’s lofty bed.
Lieth down; the Judges, & c., pass by him, and Exeunt
For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears:
Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite;
My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still;
In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.
Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn
O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men!
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
And let me say, that never wept before,
My tears are now prevailing orators.
Lucius
O noble father, you lament in vain:
The tribunes hear you not; no man is by;
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
Titus Andronicus
Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,—
Lucius
My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
Titus Andronicus
Why, tis no matter, man; if they did he
ar,
They would not mark me, or if they did mark,
They would not pity me, yet plead I must;
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale:
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet
Receive my tears and seem to weep with me;
And, were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is soft as wax,— tribunes more hard than stones;
A stone is silent, and offendeth not,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
Rises
But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?
Lucius
To rescue my two brothers from their death:
For which attempt the judges have pronounced
My everlasting doom of banishment.
Titus Andronicus
O happy man! they have befriended thee.
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey
But me and mine: how happy art thou, then,
From these devourers to be banished!
But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter Marcus and Lavinia
Marcus Andronicus
Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break:
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
Titus Andronicus
Will it consume me? let me see it, then.
Marcus Andronicus
This was thy daughter.
Titus Andronicus
Why, Marcus, so she is.
Lucius
Ay me, this object kills me!
Titus Andronicus
Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.
Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand
Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight?
What fool hath added water to the sea,
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?
My grief was at the height before thou camest,
And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.
Give me a sword, I’ll chop off my hands too;
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;
And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life;
In bootless prayer have they been held up,
And they have served me to effectless use:
Now all the service I require of them
Is that the one will help to cut the other.
’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
Lucius
Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr’d thee?
Marcus Andronicus
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts