Sat.
What, hath the firmament more suns than one?

Luc.
What boots it thee to call thy self a sun?

Mar.
Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break the parley;
These quarrels must be quietly debated:
The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places.

Sat.
Marcus, we will. [Hautboys. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a veil over her face.

Tit.
Welcome, my gracious lord, welcome dread Queen,
Welcome, ye warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all; although the cheer be poor,
'Twill fill your stomachs, please you eat of it.

Sat.
Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?

Tit.
Because I would be sure to have all well,
To entertain your highness, and your Empress.

Tam.
We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.

Tit.
And if your highness knew my heart, you were.
My lord the Emperor, resolve me this;
Was it well done of rash Virginius,
To slay his daughter with his own right-hand,
Because she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflour'd?

Sat.
It was, Andronicus.

Tit.
Your reason, mighty lord?

Sat.
Because the girl should not survive her shame,
And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

Tit.
A reason mighty, strong, and effectual,
A pattern, precedent and lively warrant,
For me, most wretched, to perform the like:
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee,
And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die. [He kills her.

Sat.
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?

Tit.
Kill'd her for whom my tears have made me blind.
I am as woful as Virginius was,
And have a thousand times more cause than he
To do this outrage. And it is now done.

Sat.
What, was she ravish'd? tell, who did the deed?

Tit.
Will't please you eat, will't please your highness feed?

Tam.
Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

Tit.
Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue,
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

Sat.
Go fetch them hither to us presently.

Tit.
Why there they are both, baked in that pye,
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she her self hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true, witness my knife's sharp point. [He stabs the Empress.

Sat.
Die, frantick wretch, for this accursed deed. [He stabs Titus.

Luc.
Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. [Lucius stabs the Emperor.

Mar.
You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Rome,
By uprore sever'd, like a flight of fowl,
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
Oh let me teach you how to knit again

This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
These broken limbs again into one body.

Goth.
Let Rome her self be bane unto her self,
And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsie to,
Like a forlorn and desperate cast-away,
Do shameful execution on her self.

Mar.
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
Grave witnesses of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,
Speak, Rome's dear friend; as erst our ancestor, [To Lucius.
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear,
The story of that baleful burning night,
When subtile Greeks surpriz'd King Priam's Troy:
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utt'rance; even in the time
When it should move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind commiseration.
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale,
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.

Luc.
Then noble auditory, be it known to you,
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius
Were they that murdered our Emperor's brother;
And they it were that ravished our sister:
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father's tears despis'd, and basely cozen'd
Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel out,
And sent her enemies into the grave.

Lastly, my self unkindly banished,
The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies,
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears,
And op'd their arms t' embrace me as a friend:
And I am turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood,
And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body.
Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I;
My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my report is just, and full of truth.
But soft, methinks I do digress too much,
Citing my worthless praise: oh pardon me,
For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.

Mar.
Now is my tongue to speak: behold this child,
Of this was Tamora delivered,
The issue of an irreligious Moor,
Chief architect and plotter of these woes;
The villain is alive in Titus' house,
And as he is, to witness this is true.
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
Or more than any living man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what say you Romans?
Have we done ought amiss? shew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,
We'll hand in hand all head-long cast us down,
And on the ragged stones beat out our brains,
And make a mutual closure of our house:
Speak, Romans, speak, and if you say we shall,
Lo hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Æm.
Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand,
Lucius our Emperor: for well I know,
The common voice do cry it shall be so.

Mar.
Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor;
Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death,
As punishment for his most wicked life.
Lucius all hail! Rome's gracious governor.

Luc.
Thanks gentle Romans: may I govern so,
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe.
But, gentle people, give me aim a while,
For nature puts me to a heavy task:
Stand all aloof; but uncle draw you near,
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk:
Oh take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face;
That last true duties of thy noble son.

Mar.
Ay, tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
O were the sum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.

Luc.
Come hither boy, come, come, and learn of us
To melt in showers; thy grandsire lov'd thee well;
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee;
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow:
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
Meet and agreeing with thy infancy;
In that respect then, like a loving child,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,
Because kind nature doth require it so;
Friends should associate friends, in grief and woe:

Bid him farewel, commit him to the grave,
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Boy.
O grandsire, grandsire! ev'n with all my heart,
Would I were dead, so you did live again—
O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping—
My tears will choak me, if I ope my mouth.

Previous section

Next section