Titus Andronicus

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
Of 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 favour Lucius,
And will revolt from me to succour 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 Then 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