Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare

Act 3 - Scene 1

Rome. A street.

Titus Andronicus : Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! [p]For pity of mine age,
whose youth was spent [p]In dangerous wars, whilst you securely
slept; [p]For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; [p]For all
the frosty nights that I have watch'd; [p]And for these bitter tears,
which now you see [p]Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; [p]Be
pitiful to my condemned sons, [p]Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis
thought. [p]For two and twenty sons I never wept, [p]Because they died
in honour's lofty bed. [p][Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by him,
and Exeunt] [p]For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write [p]My
heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears: [p]Let my tears stanch
the earth's dry appetite; [p]My sons' sweet blood will make it shame
and blush. [p]O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, [p]That
shall distil from these two ancient urns, [p]Than youthful April shall
with all his showers: [p]In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee
still; [p]In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow [p]And keep
eternal spring-time on thy face, [p]So thou refuse to drink my dear
sons' blood. [p][Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn] [p]O reverend
tribunes! O gentle, aged men! [p]Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of
death; [p]And let me say, that never wept before, [p]My tears are now
prevailing orators.

Lucius : O noble father, you lament in vain: [p]The tribunes hear you not; no
man is by; [p]And you recount your sorrows to a stone.

Titus Andronicus : Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. [p]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 hear, [p]They would not mark me,
or if they did mark, [p]They would not pity me, yet plead I
must; [p]And bootless unto them [--] [p]Therefore I tell my sorrows to
the stones; [p]Who, though they cannot answer my distress, [p]Yet in
some sort they are better than the tribunes, [p]For that they will not
intercept my tale: [p]When I do weep, they humbly at my
feet [p]Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; [p]And, were they
but attired in grave weeds, [p]Rome could afford no tribune like to
these. [p]A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than
stones; [p]A stone is silent, and offendeth not, [p]And tribunes with
their tongues doom men to death. [p][Rises] [p]But wherefore stand'st
thou with thy weapon drawn?

Lucius : To rescue my two brothers from their death: [p]For which attempt the
judges have pronounced [p]My everlasting doom of banishment.

Titus Andronicus : O happy man! they have befriended thee. [p]Why, foolish Lucius, dost
thou not perceive [p]That Rome is but a wilderness of
tigers? [p]Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey [p]But me and
mine: how happy art thou, then, [p]From these devourers to be
banished! [p]But who comes with our brother Marcus here?

Marcus Andronicus : Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; [p]Or, if not so, thy noble
heart to break: [p]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. [p]Speak, Lavinia, what
accursed hand [p]Hath made thee handless in thy father's
sight? [p]What fool hath added water to the sea, [p]Or brought a
faggot to bright-burning Troy? [p]My grief was at the height before
thou camest, [p]And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. [p]Give me a
sword, I'll chop off my hands too; [p]For they have fought for Rome,
and all in vain; [p]And they have nursed this woe, in feeding
life; [p]In bootless prayer have they been held up, [p]And they have
served me to effectless use: [p]Now all the service I require of
them [p]Is that the one will help to cut the other. [p]'Tis well,
Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; [p]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 [p]That blabb'd them with
such pleasing eloquence, [p]Is torn from forth that pretty hollow
cage, [p]Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung [p]Sweet varied
notes, enchanting every ear!

Lucius : O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?

Marcus Andronicus : O, thus I found her, straying in the park, [p]Seeking to hide herself,
as doth the deer [p]That hath received some unrecuring wound.

Titus Andronicus : It was my deer; and he that wounded her [p]Hath hurt me more than had
he killed me dead: [p]For now I stand as one upon a rock [p]Environed
with a wilderness of sea, [p]Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by
wave, [p]Expecting ever when some envious surge [p]Will in his brinish
bowels swallow him. [p]This way to death my wretched sons are
gone; [p]Here stands my other son, a banished man, [p]And here my
brother, weeping at my woes. [p]But that which gives my soul the
greatest spurn, [p]Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. [p]Had I but
seen thy picture in this plight, [p]It would have madded me: what
shall I do [p]Now I behold thy lively body so? [p]Thou hast no hands,
to wipe away thy tears: [p]Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd
thee: [p]Thy husband he is dead: and for his death [p]Thy brothers are
condemn'd, and dead by this. [p]Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on
her! [p]When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears [p]Stood on her
cheeks, as doth the honey-dew [p]Upon a gather'd lily almost
wither'd.

Marcus Andronicus : Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; [p]Perchance
because she knows them innocent.

Titus Andronicus : If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful [p]Because the law hath
ta'en revenge on them. [p]No, no, they would not do so foul a
deed; [p]Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. [p]Gentle
Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips. [p]Or make some sign how I may do thee
ease: [p]Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, [p]And thou,
and I, sit round about some fountain, [p]Looking all downwards to
behold our cheeks [p]How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not
dry, [p]With miry slime left on them by a flood? [p]And in the
fountain shall we gaze so long [p]Till the fresh taste be taken from
that clearness, [p]And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? [p]Or
shall we cut away our hands, like thine? [p]Or shall we bite our
tongues, and in dumb shows [p]Pass the remainder of our hateful
days? [p]What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, [p]Plot some
deuce of further misery, [p]To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

Lucius : Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief, [p]See how my
wretched sister sobs and weeps.

Marcus Andronicus : Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.

Titus Andronicus : Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot [p]Thy napkin cannot drink a
tear of mine, [p]For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own.

Lucius : Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.

Titus Andronicus : Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: [p]Had she a tongue to
speak, now would she say [p]That to her brother which I said to
thee: [p]His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, [p]Can do no
service on her sorrowful cheeks. [p]O, what a sympathy of woe is
this, [p]As far from help as Limbo is from bliss!

Aaron : Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor [p]Sends thee this word,--that,
if thou love thy sons, [p]Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old
Titus, [p]Or any one of you, chop off your hand, [p]And send it to the
king: he for the same [p]Will send thee hither both thy sons
alive; [p]And that shall be the ransom for their fault.

Titus Andronicus : O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! [p]Did ever raven sing so like a
lark, [p]That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? [p]With all my
heart, I'll send the emperor My hand: [p]Good Aaron, wilt thou help to
chop it off?

Lucius : Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, [p]That hath thrown down
so many enemies, [p]Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the
turn: [p]My youth can better spare my blood than you; [p]And therefore
mine shall save my brothers' lives.

Marcus Andronicus : Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, [p]And rear'd aloft the
bloody battle-axe, [p]Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? [p]O,
none of both but are of high desert: [p]My hand hath been but idle;
let it serve [p]To ransom my two nephews from their death; [p]Then
have I kept it to a worthy end.

Aaron : Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, [p]For fear they die
before their pardon come.

Marcus Andronicus : My hand shall go.

Lucius : By heaven, it shall not go!

Titus Andronicus : Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these [p]Are meet for
plucking up, and therefore mine.

Lucius : Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, [p]Let me redeem my
brothers both from death.

Marcus Andronicus : And, for our father's sake and mother's care, [p]Now let me show a
brother's love to thee.

Titus Andronicus : Agree between you; I will spare my hand.

Lucius : Then I'll go fetch an axe.

Marcus Andronicus : But I will use the axe.

Titus Andronicus : Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both: [p]Lend me thy hand, and I
will give thee mine.

Aaron : [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, [p]And never,
whilst I live, deceive men so: [p]But I'll deceive you in another
sort, [p]And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass.

Titus Andronicus : Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch'd. [p]Good Aaron, give
his majesty my hand: [p]Tell him it was a hand that warded him [p]From
thousand dangers; bid him bury it [p]More hath it merited; that let it
have. [p]As for my sons, say I account of them [p]As jewels purchased
at an easy price; [p]And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Aaron : I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand [p]Look by and by to have thy sons
with thee. [p][Aside] [p]Their heads, I mean. O, how this
villany [p]Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! [p]Let fools do
good, and fair men call for grace. [p]Aaron will have his soul black
like his face.

Titus Andronicus : O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, [p]And bow this feeble ruin
to the earth: [p]If any power pities wretched tears, [p]To that I
call! [p][To LAVINIA] [p]What, wilt thou kneel with me? [p]Do, then,
dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers; [p]Or with our sighs
we'll breathe the welkin dim, [p]And stain the sun with fog, as
sometime clouds [p]When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

Marcus Andronicus : O brother, speak with possibilities, [p]And do not break into these
deep extremes.

Titus Andronicus : Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? [p]Then be my passions
bottomless with them.

Marcus Andronicus : But yet let reason govern thy lament.TITUS ANDRONICUS. If there were
reason for these miseries, [p]Then into limits could I bind my
woes: [p]When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? [p]If the
winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, [p]Threatening the welkin with
his big-swoln face? [p]And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? [p]I
am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! [p]She is the weeping welkin,
I the earth: [p]Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; [p]Then must
my earth with her continual tears [p]Become a deluge, overflow'd and
drown'd; [p]For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, [p]But like a
drunkard must I vomit them. [p]Then give me leave, for losers will
have leave [p]To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

Messenger : Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid [p]For that good hand thou
sent'st the emperor. [p]Here are the heads of thy two noble
sons; [p]And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; [p]Thy
griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd; [p]That woe is me to think
upon thy woes [p]More than remembrance of my father's death.

Marcus Andronicus : Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily, [p]And be my heart an ever-burning
hell! [p]These miseries are more than may be borne. [p]To weep with
them that weep doth ease some deal; [p]But sorrow flouted at is double
death.

Lucius : Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, [p]And yet detested
life not shrink thereat! [p]That ever death should let life bear his
name, [p]Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

Marcus Andronicus : Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless [p]As frozen water to a
starved snake.

Titus Andronicus : When will this fearful slumber have an end?

Marcus Andronicus : Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus; [p]Thou dost not slumber:
see, thy two sons' heads, [p]Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter
here: [p]Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight [p]Struck pale
and bloodless; and thy brother, I, [p]Even like a stony image, cold
and numb. [p]Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: [p]Rend off
thy silver hair, thy other hand [p]Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this
dismal sight [p]The closing up of our most wretched eyes; [p]Now is a
time to storm; why art thou still?

Titus Andronicus : Ha, ha, ha!

Marcus Andronicus : Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.

Titus Andronicus : Why, I have not another tear to shed: [p]Besides, this sorrow is an
enemy, [p]And would usurp upon my watery eyes [p]And make them blind
with tributary tears: [p]Then which way shall I find Revenge's
cave? [p]For these two heads do seem to speak to me, [p]And threat me
I shall never come to bliss [p]Till all these mischiefs be return'd
again [p]Even in their throats that have committed them. [p]Come, let
me see what task I have to do. [p]You heavy people, circle me
about, [p]That I may turn me to each one of you, [p]And swear unto my
soul to right your wrongs. [p]The vow is made. Come, brother, take a
head; [p]And in this hand the other I will bear. [p]Lavinia, thou
shalt be employ'd: these arms! [p]Bear thou my hand, sweet wench,
between thy teeth. [p]As for thee, boy, go get thee from my
sight; [p]Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: [p]Hie to the
Goths, and raise an army there: [p]And, if you love me, as I think you
do, [p]Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do.

Lucius : Farewell Andronicus, my noble father, [p]The wofull'st man that ever
lived in Rome: [p]Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, [p]He
leaves his pledges dearer than his life: [p]Farewell, Lavinia, my
noble sister; [p]O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! [p]But
now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives [p]But in oblivion and hateful
griefs. [p]If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; [p]And make
proud Saturnine and his empress [p]Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and
his queen. [p]Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, [p]To be
revenged on Rome and Saturnine.

Previous: Act 2 - Scene 4

Next: Act 3 - Scene 2

Web Standards & Support: