Act IV, Scene III — Woods and caves near the sea-shore
Enter Timon in the woods.
TIMON. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity, below thy sister’s orb Infect the air! Twinned brothers of one womb, Whose procreation, residence and birth Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes, The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature, To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune But by contempt of nature. Raise me this beggar, and deny’t that lord; The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, The beggar native honour. It is the pasture lards the rother’s sides, The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares In purity of manhood stand upright And say, “This man’s a flatterer”? If one be, So are they all, for every grece of fortune Is smoothed by that below. The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy. There’s nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains. Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!
[Digs in the earth.]
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison! What is here? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens! Thus much of this will make Black white, foul fair, wrong right, Base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods, why this? What this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads. This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th’ accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves And give them title, knee, and approbation With senators on the bench. This is it That makes the wappened widow wed again; She whom the spittle-house and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To th’ April day again. Come, damned earth, Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Do thy right nature.
[March afar off.]
Ha? A drum? Thou’rt quick, But yet I’ll bury thee. Thou’lt go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
[Keeping some gold.]
Enter Alcibiades with drum and fife, in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra.
ALCIBIADES. What art thou there? Speak.
TIMON. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart For showing me again the eyes of man!
ALCIBIADES. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee That art thyself a man?
TIMON. I am Misanthropos and hate mankind. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
ALCIBIADES. I know thee well, But in thy fortunes am unlearned and strange.
TIMON. I know thee too, and more than that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy drum, With man’s blood paint the ground gules, gules. Religious canons, civil laws are cruel, Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine Hath in her more destruction than thy sword, For all her cherubin look.
PHRYNIA. Thy lips rot off!
TIMON. I will not kiss thee, then the rot returns To thine own lips again.
ALCIBIADES. How came the noble Timon to this change?
TIMON. As the moon does, by wanting light to give. But then renew I could not like the moon; There were no suns to borrow of.
ALCIBIADES. Noble Timon, What friendship may I do thee?
TIMON. None, but to maintain my opinion.
ALCIBIADES. What is it, Timon?
TIMON. Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art a man.
ALCIBIADES. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
TIMON. Thou saw’st them when I had prosperity.
ALCIBIADES. I see them now; then was a blessed time.
TIMON. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA. Is this th’ Athenian minion whom the world Voiced so regardfully?
TIMON. Art thou Timandra?
TIMANDRA. Yes.
TIMON. Be a whore still, they love thee not that use thee; Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. Make use of thy salt hours. Season the slaves For tubs and baths, bring down rose-cheeked youth To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA. Hang thee, monster!
ALCIBIADES. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drowned and lost in his calamities. I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, The want whereof doth daily make revolt In my penurious band. I have heard and grieved How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds when neighbour states, But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them—
TIMON. I prithee, beat thy drum and get thee gone.
ALCIBIADES. I am thy friend and pity thee, dear Timon.
TIMON. How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble? I had rather be alone.
ALCIBIADES. Why, fare thee well. Here is some gold for thee.
TIMON. Keep it, I cannot eat it.
ALCIBIADES. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap—
TIMON. Warr’st thou ’gainst Athens?
ALCIBIADES. Ay, Timon, and have cause.
TIMON. The gods confound them all in thy conquest, And thee after, when thou hast conquered!
ALCIBIADES. Why me, Timon?
TIMON. That by killing of villains Thou wast born to conquer my country. Put up thy gold. Go on, here’s gold, go on. Be as a planetary plague when Jove Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one. Pity not honoured age for his white beard; He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron; It is her habit only that is honest, Herself’s a bawd. Let not the virgin’s cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword, for those milk paps That through the window-bars bore at men’s eyes, Are not within the leaf of pity writ, But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects; Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes, Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There’s gold to pay thy soldiers. Make large confusion and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
ALCIBIADES. Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou giv’st me, Not all thy counsel.
TIMON. Dost thou or dost thou not, heaven’s curse upon thee!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Give us some gold, good Timon. Hast thou more?
TIMON. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, Your aprons mountant. You are not oathable, Although I know you’ll swear—terribly swear Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues Th’ immortal gods that hear you. Spare your oaths, I’ll trust to your conditions. Be whores still, And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you, Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up; Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turncoats. Yet may your pains six months, Be quite contrary. And thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged, No matter; wear them, betray with them. Whore still, Paint till a horse may mire upon your face. A pox of wrinkles!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Well, more gold. What then? Believe’t that we’ll do anything for gold.
TIMON. Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, And mar men’s spurring. Crack the lawyer’s voice, That he may never more false title plead Nor sound his quillets shrilly. Hoar the flamen, That scolds against the quality of flesh And not believes himself. Down with the nose, Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away Of him that, his particular to foresee, Smells from the general weal. Make curled-pate ruffians bald, And let the unscarred braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you. Plague all, That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection. There’s more gold. Do you damn others, and let this damn you, And ditches grave you all!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMON. More whore, more mischief first! I have given you earnest.
ALCIBIADES. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon. If I thrive well, I’ll visit thee again.
TIMON. If I hope well, I’ll never see thee more.
ALCIBIADES. I never did thee harm.
TIMON. Yes, thou spok’st well of me.
ALCIBIADES. Call’st thou that harm?
TIMON. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take Thy beagles with thee.
ALCIBIADES. We but offend him. Strike.
[Drum beats. Exeunt all but Timon.]
TIMON. That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness, Should yet be hungry! [He digs.] Common mother, thou, Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast Teems and feeds all; whose selfsame mettle Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffed, Engenders the black toad and adder blue, The gilded newt and eyeless venomed worm, With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven Whereon Hyperion’s quickening fire doth shine: Yield him who all thy human sons doth hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root! Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man. Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears; Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled mansion all above Never presented. O, a root, dear thanks! Dry up thy marrows, vines and plough-torn leas, Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts And morsels unctuous greases his pure mind, That from it all consideration slips—
Enter Apemantus.
More man? Plague, plague!
APEMANTUS. I was directed hither. Men report Thou dost affect my manners and dost use them.
TIMON. ’Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!
APEMANTUS. This is in thee a nature but infected, A poor unmanly melancholy sprung From change of fortune. Why this spade, this place? This slave-like habit and these looks of care? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods By putting on the cunning of a carper. Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive By that which has undone thee. Hinge thy knee And let his very breath whom thou’lt observe Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus; Thou gav’st thine ears, like tapsters that bade welcome, To knaves and all approachers. ’Tis most just That thou turn rascal; had’st thou wealth again, Rascals should have’t. Do not assume my likeness.
TIMON. Were I like thee, I’d throw away myself.
APEMANTUS. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself A madman so long, now a fool. What, think’st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these mossed trees, That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels And skip when thou point’st out? Will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste To cure thy o’ernight’s surfeit? Call the creatures Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements exposed, Answer mere nature, bid them flatter thee. O, thou shalt find—
TIMON. A fool of thee. Depart.
APEMANTUS. I love thee better now than e’er I did.
TIMON. I hate thee worse.
APEMANTUS. Why?
TIMON. Thou flatter’st misery.
APEMANTUS. I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.
TIMON. Why dost thou seek me out?
APEMANTUS. To vex thee.
TIMON. Always a villain’s office or a fool’s. Dost please thyself in’t?
APEMANTUS. Ay.
TIMON. What, a knave too?
APEMANTUS. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on To castigate thy pride, ’twere well; but thou Dost it enforcedly. Thou’dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crowned before; The one is filling still, never complete, The other, at high wish. Best state, contentless, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst, content. Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.
TIMON. Not by his breath that is more miserable. Thou art a slave whom Fortune’s tender arm With favour never clasped, but bred a dog. Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drugs of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself In general riot, melted down thy youth In different beds of lust and never learned The icy precepts of respect, but followed The sugared game before thee. But myself— Who had the world as my confectionary, The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men At duty, more than I could frame employment, That numberless upon me stuck as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winter’s brush Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare For every storm that blows—I to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden. Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee hard in’t. Why shouldst thou hate men? They never flattered thee. What hast thou given? If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff To some she-beggar and compounded thee Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone! If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
APEMANTUS. Art thou proud yet?
TIMON. Ay, that I am not thee.
APEMANTUS. I, that I was no prodigal.
TIMON. I, that I am one now. Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, I’d give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. That the whole life of Athens were in this! Thus would I eat it.
[Eats a root.]
APEMANTUS. Here, I will mend thy feast.
TIMON. First mend my company, take away thyself.
APEMANTUS. So I shall mend mine own, by th’ lack of thine.
TIMON. ’Tis not well mended so, it is but botched. If not, I would it were.
APEMANTUS. What wouldst thou have to Athens?
TIMON. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold. Look, so I have.
APEMANTUS. Here is no use for gold.
TIMON. The best and truest, For here it sleeps and does no hired harm.
APEMANTUS. Where liest a-nights, Timon?
TIMON. Under that’s above me. Where feed’st thou a-days, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Where my stomach finds meat, or rather where I eat it.
TIMON. Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!
APEMANTUS. Where wouldst thou send it?
TIMON. To sauce thy dishes.
APEMANTUS. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know’st none, but art despised for the contrary. There’s a medlar for thee. Eat it.
TIMON. On what I hate I feed not.
APEMANTUS. Dost hate a medlar?
TIMON. Ay, though it look like thee.
APEMANTUS. An thou’dst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?
TIMON. Who, without those means thou talk’st of, didst thou ever know beloved?
APEMANTUS. Myself.
TIMON. I understand thee. Thou hadst some means to keep a dog.
APEMANTUS. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?
TIMON. Women nearest; but men—men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
APEMANTUS. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
TIMON. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men and remain a beast with the beasts?
APEMANTUS. Ay, Timon.
TIMON. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t’ attain to. If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass; if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou lived’st but as a breakfast to the wolf; if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury; wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert germane to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be that were not subject to a beast? And what beast art thou already that seest not thy loss in transformation!
APEMANTUS. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
TIMON. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?
APEMANTUS. Yonder comes a poet and a painter. The plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else to do, I’ll see thee again.
TIMON. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.
APEMANTUS. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
TIMON. Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
APEMANTUS. A plague on thee! Thou art too bad to curse.
TIMON. All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
APEMANTUS. There is no leprosy but what thou speak’st.
TIMON. If I name thee, I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
APEMANTUS. I would my tongue could rot them off!
TIMON. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! Choler does kill me that thou art alive. I swoon to see thee.
APEMANTUS. Would thou wouldst burst!
TIMON. Away, thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
[Throws a stone at him.]
APEMANTUS. Beast!
TIMON. Slave!
APEMANTUS. Toad!
TIMON. Rogue, rogue, rogue! I am sick of this false world, and will love nought But even the mere necessities upon’t. Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave. Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy gravestone daily. Make thine epitaph, That death in me at others’ lives may laugh. [To the gold.] O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce ’Twixt natural son and sire; thou bright defiler Of Hymen’s purest bed, thou valiant Mars; Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian’s lap; thou visible god, That solder’st close impossibilities And mak’st them kiss, that speak’st with every tongue To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts, Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire!
APEMANTUS. Would ’twere so! But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold; Thou wilt be thronged to shortly.
TIMON. Thronged to?
APEMANTUS. Ay.
TIMON. Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS. Live and love thy misery.
TIMON. Long live so, and so die! I am quit.
APEMANTUS. More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
[Exit Apemantus.]
Enter Banditti.
FIRST BANDIT. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of gold and the falling-from of his friends drove him into this melancholy.
SECOND BANDIT. It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIRD BANDIT. Let us make the assay upon him. If he care not for’t, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall’s get it?
SECOND BANDIT. True, for he bears it not about him. ’Tis hid.
FIRST BANDIT. Is not this he?
BANDITTI. Where?
SECOND BANDIT. ’Tis his description.
THIRD BANDIT. He; I know him.
BANDITTI. Save thee, Timon!
TIMON. Now, thieves?
BANDITTI. Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON. Both too, and women’s sons.
BANDITTI. We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
TIMON. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots, Within this mile break forth a hundred springs, The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips, The bounteous housewife Nature on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?
FIRST BANDIT. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts and birds and fishes.
TIMON. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con That you are thieves professed, that you work not In holier shapes, for there is boundless theft In limited professions. Rascal thieves, Here’s gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o’ th’ grape Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob. Take wealth and lives together, Do villainy, do, since you protest to do’t, Like workmen. I’ll example you with thievery. The sun’s a thief and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea; the moon’s an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears; the earth’s a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stol’n From general excrement. Each thing’s a thief. The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Has unchecked theft. Love not yourselves; away! Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats, All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go, Break open shops, nothing can you steal But thieves do lose it. Steal no less for this I give you, And gold confound you howsoe’er! Amen.
THIRD BANDIT. Has almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.
FIRST BANDIT. ’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.
SECOND BANDIT. I’ll believe him as an enemy and give over my trade.
FIRST BANDIT. Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
[Exeunt Banditti.]
Enter Flavius.
FLAVIUS. O you gods! Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed! What an alteration of honour has desperate want made! What viler thing upon the earth than friends Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise, When man was wished to love his enemies! Grant I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do! He has caught me in his eye. I will present My honest grief unto him and as my lord Still serve him with my life.—My dearest master!
TIMON. Away! What art thou?
FLAVIUS. Have you forgot me, sir?
TIMON. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men. Then, if thou grant’st thou’rt a man, I have forgot thee.
FLAVIUS. An honest poor servant of yours.
TIMON. Then I know thee not. I never had honest man about me. I; all I kept were knaves to serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS. The gods are witness, Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
TIMON. What, dost thou weep? Come nearer then. I love thee Because thou art a woman and disclaim’st Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give But thorough lust and laughter. Pity’s sleeping. Strange times that weep with laughing, not with weeping!
FLAVIUS. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, T’ accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts To entertain me as your steward still.
TIMON. Had I a steward So true, so just, and now so comfortable? It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. Let me behold thy face. Surely this man Was born of woman. Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, You perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man, mistake me not, but one; No more, I pray, and he’s a steward. How fain would I have hated all mankind, And thou redeem’st thyself. But all, save thee, I fell with curses. Methinks thou art more honest now than wise, For by oppressing and betraying me Thou mightst have sooner got another service; For many so arrive at second masters Upon their first lord’s neck. But tell me true— For I must ever doubt, though ne’er so sure— Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, A usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one?
FLAVIUS. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late. You should have feared false times when you did feast, Suspect still comes where an estate is least. That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, Care of your food and living. And believe it, My most honoured lord, For any benefit that points to me, Either in hope or present, I’d exchange For this one wish, that you had power and wealth To requite me by making rich yourself.
TIMON. Look thee, ’tis so! Thou singly honest man, Here, take. The gods out of my misery Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men; Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famished flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow ’em, Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so farewell and thrive.
FLAVIUS. O, let me stay And comfort you, my master.
TIMON. If thou hat’st curses, Stay not. Fly whilst thou’rt blest and free. Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.
[Exeunt severally.]
Act V, Scene I — The woods. Before Timon’s cave
Enter Poet and Painter.
PAINTER. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
POET. What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he is so full of gold?
PAINTER. Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him. He likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. ’Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
POET. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends?
PAINTER. Nothing else. You shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore ’tis not amiss we tender our loves to him in this supposed distress of his. It will show honestly in us and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travail for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having.
POET. What have you now to present unto him?
PAINTER. Nothing at this time but my visitation; only I will promise him an excellent piece.
POET. I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent that’s coming toward him.
PAINTER. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o’ th’ time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever the duller for his act and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
Enter Timon from his cave.
TIMON. [Aside.] Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.
POET. I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him. It must be a personating of himself, a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
TIMON. [Aside.] Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.
POET. Nay, let’s seek him. Then do we sin against our own estate When we may profit meet and come too late.
PAINTER. True. When the day serves, before black-cornered night, Find what thou want’st by free and offered light. Come.
TIMON. [Aside.] I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold, That he is worshipped in a baser temple Than where swine feed! ’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plough’st the foam, Settlest admired reverence in a slave. To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey! Fit I meet them.
[He comes forward.]
POET. Hail, worthy Timon!
PAINTER. Our late noble master!
TIMON. Have I once lived to see two honest men?
POET. Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retired, your friends fall’n off, Whose thankless natures—O abhorred spirits! Not all the whips of heaven are large enough— What, to you, Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being? I am rapt and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words.
TIMON. Let it go naked. Men may see’t the better. You that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seen and known.
PAINTER. He and myself Have travailed in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it.
TIMON. Ay, you are honest men.
PAINTER. We are hither come to offer you our service.
TIMON. Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? Can you eat roots and drink cold water? No?
BOTH. What we can do we’ll do, to do you service.
TIMON. Ye’re honest men. Ye’ve heard that I have gold, I am sure you have. Speak truth, you’re honest men.
PAINTER. So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON. Good honest men! [To Painter.] Thou draw’st a counterfeit Best in all Athens. Thou’rt indeed the best, Thou counterfeit’st most lively.
PAINTER. So so, my lord.
TIMON. E’en so, sir, as I say. [To the Poet.] And for thy fiction, Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth That thou art even natural in thine art. But for all this, my honest-natured friends, I must needs say you have a little fault. Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much pains to mend.
BOTH. Beseech your honour To make it known to us.
TIMON. You’ll take it ill.
BOTH. Most thankfully, my lord.
TIMON. Will you indeed?
BOTH. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
TIMON. There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave That mightily deceives you.
BOTH. Do we, my lord?
TIMON. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, Keep in your bosom, yet remain assured That he’s a made-up villain.
PAINTER. I know not such, my lord.
POET. Nor I.
TIMON. Look you, I love you well. I’ll give you gold. Rid me these villains from your companies, Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, I’ll give you gold enough.
BOTH. Name them, my lord, let’s know them.
TIMON. You that way, and you this, but two in company. Each man apart, all single and alone, Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. [To one.] If where thou art, two villians shall not be, Come not near him. [To the other.] If thou wouldst not reside But where one villain is, then him abandon. Hence, pack! There’s gold. You came for gold, ye slaves. [To one.] You have work for me, there’s payment, hence! [To the other.] You are an alchemist; make gold of that. Out, rascal dogs!
[Timon drives them out and then retires to his cave]
Act V, Scene II — The same
Enter Flavius and two Senators.
FLAVIUS. It is vain that you would speak with Timon. For he is set so only to himself That nothing but himself which looks like man Is friendly with him.
FIRST SENATOR. Bring us to his cave. It is our part and promise to th’ Athenians To speak with Timon.
SECOND SENATOR. At all times alike Men are not still the same: ’twas time and griefs That framed him thus. Time, with his fairer hand, Offering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him. Bring us to him And chance it as it may.
FLAVIUS. Here is his cave. Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon, Look out and speak to friends. The Athenians By two of their most reverend senate greet thee. Speak to them, noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his cave.
TIMON. Thou sun that comforts, burn! Speak and be hanged! For each true word, a blister, and each false Be as a cantherizing to the root o’ th’ tongue, Consuming it with speaking.
FIRST SENATOR. Worthy Timon—
TIMON. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
FIRST SENATOR. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
TIMON. [Aside.] I thank them and would send them back the plague, Could I but catch it for them.
FIRST SENATOR. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. The senators with one consent of love Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie For thy best use and wearing.
SECOND SENATOR. They confess Toward thee forgetfulness too general gross, Which now the public body, which doth seldom Play the recanter, feeling in itself A lack of Timon’s aid, hath sense withal Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon, And send forth us to make their sorrowed render, Together with a recompense more fruitful Than their offence can weigh down by the dram, Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth, As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee the figures of their love, Ever to read them thine.
TIMON. You witch me in it, Surprise me to the very brink of tears. Lend me a fool’s heart and a woman’s eyes And I’ll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
FIRST SENATOR. Therefore so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name Live with authority. So soon we shall drive back Of Alcibiades th’ approaches wild, Who like a boar too savage doth root up His country’s peace.
SECOND SENATOR. And shakes his threatening sword Against the walls of Athens.
FIRST SENATOR. Therefore, Timon—
TIMON. Well, sir, I will. Therefore I will, sir, thus: If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens And take our goodly aged men by th’ beards, Giving our holy virgins to the stain Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brained war, Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it, In pity of our aged and our youth, I cannot choose but tell him that I care not; And—let him take’t at worst—for their knives care not While you have throats to answer. For myself, There’s not a whittle in th’ unruly camp But I do prize it at my love before The reverend’st throat in Athens. So I leave you To the protection of the prosperous gods, As thieves to keepers.
FLAVIUS. Stay not, all’s in vain.
TIMON. Why, I was writing of my epitaph; It will be seen tomorrow. My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still, Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough.
FIRST SENATOR. We speak in vain.
TIMON. But yet I love my country and am not One that rejoices in the common wrack, As common bruit doth put it.
FIRST SENATOR. That’s well spoke.
TIMON. Commend me to my loving countrymen.
FIRST SENATOR. These words become your lips as they pass through them.
SECOND SENATOR. And enter in our ears like great triumphers In their applauding gates.
TIMON. Commend me to them, And tell them that to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature’s fragile vessel doth sustain In life’s uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them; I’ll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades’ wrath.
FIRST SENATOR. [Aside.] I like this well, he will return again.
TIMON. I have a tree which grows here in my close That mine own use invites me to cut down, And shortly must I fell it. Tell my friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree From high to low throughout, that whoso please To stop affliction, let him take his haste, Come hither ere my tree hath felt the axe And hang himself. I pray you do my greeting.
FLAVIUS. Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.
TIMON. Come not to me again, but say to Athens Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come, And let my gravestone be your oracle. Lips, let sour words go by, and language end: What is amiss, plague and infection mend; Graves only be men’s works and death their gain, Sun, hide thy beams, Timon hath done his reign.
[Exit Timon into his cave.]
FIRST SENATOR. His discontents are unremovably Coupled to nature.
SECOND SENATOR. Our hope in him is dead. Let us return And strain what other means is left unto us In our dear peril.
FIRST SENATOR. It requires swift foot.
[Exeunt.]
Act V, Scene III — Before the walls of Athens
Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.
FIRST SENATOR. Thou hast painfully discovered. Are his files As full as thy report?
MESSENGER. I have spoke the least. Besides, his expedition promises Present approach.
SECOND SENATOR. We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon.
MESSENGER. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though in general part we were opposed, Yet our old love made a particular force And made us speak like friends. This man was riding From Alcibiades to Timon’s cave With letters of entreaty, which imported His fellowship i’ th’ cause against your city, In part for his sake moved.
Enter the other Senators from Timon.
THIRD SENATOR. Here come our brothers.
FIRST SENATOR. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect. The enemy’s drum is heard, and fearful scouring Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare. Ours is the fall, I fear, our foe’s the snare.
[Exeunt.]
Act V, Scene IV — The woods. Timon’s cave, and a rude tomb seen
Enter a Soldier in the woods, seeking Timon.
SOLDIER. By all description this should be the place. Who’s here? Speak, ho! No answer? What is this? _Timon is dead, who hath outstretched his span. Some beast read this; there does not live a man._ Dead, sure, and this his grave. What’s on this tomb I cannot read. The character I’ll take with wax. Our captain hath in every figure skill, An aged interpreter, though young in days. Before proud Athens he’s set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.
[Exit.]
Act V, Scene V — Before the walls of Athens
Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers before Athens.
ALCIBIADES. Sound to this coward and lascivious town Our terrible approach.
[A parley sounds.]
The Senators appear upon the walls.
Till now you have gone on and filled the time With all licentious measure, making your wills The scope of justice. Till now myself and such As slept within the shadow of your power Have wandered with our traversed arms, and breathed Our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush, When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong Cries of itself, “No more!” Now breathless wrong Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, And pursy insolence shall break his wind With fear and horrid flight.
FIRST SENATOR. Noble and young, When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, We sent to thee to give thy rages balm, To wipe out our ingratitude with loves Above their quantity.
SECOND SENATOR. So did we woo Transformed Timon to our city’s love By humble message and by promised means. We were not all unkind, nor all deserve The common stroke of war.
FIRST SENATOR. These walls of ours Were not erected by their hands from whom You have received your griefs; nor are they such That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall For private faults in them.
SECOND SENATOR. Nor are they living Who were the motives that you first went out. Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread. By decimation and a tithed death, If thy revenges hunger for that food Which nature loathes, take thou the destined tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted die Let die the spotted.
FIRST SENATOR. All have not offended. For those that were, it is not square to take, On those that are, revenge. Crimes, like lands, Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks but leave without thy rage; Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that have offended. Like a shepherd Approach the fold and cull th’ infected forth, But kill not all together.
SECOND SENATOR. What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Than hew to ’t with thy sword.
FIRST SENATOR. Set but thy foot Against our rampired gates and they shall ope, So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before To say thou’lt enter friendly.
SECOND SENATOR. Throw thy glove, Or any token of thine honour else, That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress And not as our confusion, all thy powers Shall make their harbour in our town till we Have sealed thy full desire.
ALCIBIADES. Then there’s my glove; Descend and open your uncharged ports. Those enemies of Timon’s and mine own Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof Fall, and no more. And, to atone your fears With my more noble meaning, not a man Shall pass his quarter or offend the stream Of regular justice in your city’s bounds, But shall be remedied to your public laws At heaviest answer.
BOTH. ’Tis most nobly spoken.
ALCIBIADES. Descend, and keep your words.
[The Senators descend.]
Enter a Soldier.
SOLDIER. My noble general, Timon is dead, Entombed upon the very hem o’ th’ sea, And on his gravestone this insculpture, which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance.
ALCIBIADES. [Reads the Epitaph.] _Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft. Seek not my name. A plague consume you, wicked caitiffs left! Here lie I, Timon, who alive all living men did hate. Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay not here thy gait._ These well express in thee thy latter spirits. Though thou abhorred’st in us our human griefs, Scorned’st our brains’ flow and those our droplets which From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead Is noble Timon, of whose memory Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, And I will use the olive with my sword, Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other, as each other’s leech. Let our drums strike.
[Exeunt.]
THE TRAGEDY OF TITUS ANDRONICUS
Dramatis Personæ
SATURNINUS, elder son to the late Emperor of Rome, afterwards Emperor BASSIANUS, brother to Saturninus
TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman, General against the Goths MARCUS ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People, and brother to Titus
LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus LUCIUS, son to Titus Andronicus QUINTUS, son to Titus Andronicus MARTIUS, son to Titus Andronicus MUTIUS, son to Titus Andronicus
YOUNG LUCIUS, a boy, son to Lucius PUBLIUS, son to Marcus the Tribune
SEMPRONIUS, kinsman to Titus CAIUS, kinsman to Titus VALENTINE, kinsman to Titus
AEMILIUS, a noble Roman
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora ALARBUS, son to Tamora DEMETRIUS, son to Tamora CHIRON, son to Tamora
A CAPTAIN MESSENGER A NURSE, and a black child CLOWN Goths and Romans
Tribunes, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants
SCENE: Rome, and the Country near it
Act I, Scene I — Rome. Before the Capitol
Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft. And then enter Saturninus and his followers at one door, and Bassianus and his followers at the other, with drums and trumpets.
SATURNINUS. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms; And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords. I am his firstborn son that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father’s honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
BASSIANUS. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Caesar’s son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol, And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence, and nobility; But let desert in pure election shine, And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, holding the crown.
MARCUS. Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius For many good and great deserts to Rome. A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls. He by the senate is accited home From weary wars against the barbarous Goths, That with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yoked a nation strong, trained up in arms. Ten years are spent since first he undertook This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms Our enemies’ pride. Five times he hath returned Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons In coffins from the field. And now at last, laden with honour’s spoils, Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, by honour of his name Whom worthily you would have now succeed, And in the Capitol and senate’s right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, That you withdraw you and abate your strength, Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
SATURNINUS. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
BASSIANUS. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, Gracious Lavinia, Rome’s rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends, And to my fortunes and the people’s favour Commit my cause in balance to be weighed.
[Exeunt the followers of Bassianus.]
SATURNINUS. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favour of my country Commit myself, my person, and the cause.
[Exeunt the followers of Saturninus.]
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates and let me in.
BASSIANUS. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[Flourish. They go up into the Senate House.]
Enter a Captain.
CAPTAIN. Romans, make way! The good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome’s best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is returned From where he circumscribed with his sword And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome.
Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter two of Titus’ sons, and then two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then two other sons; then Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, the Queen of Goths and her sons Alarbus, Chiron and Demetrius with Aaron the Moor, and others as many as can be, then set down the coffin, and Titus speaks.
TITUS. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her fraught Returns with precious lading to the bay From whence at first she weighed her anchorage, Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, To resalute his country with his tears, Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rites that we intend. Romans, of five-and-twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poor remains, alive and dead. These that survive let Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors. Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, Why suffer’st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[They open the tomb.]
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country’s wars. O sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons hast thou of mine in store, That thou wilt never render to me more?
LUCIUS. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh Before this earthy prison of their bones, That so the shadows be not unappeased, Nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth.
TITUS. I give him you, the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen.
TAMORA. Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother’s tears in passion for her son. And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me. Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs and return Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke; But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets For valiant doings in their country’s cause? O, if to fight for king and commonweal Were piety in thine, it is in these. Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood. Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful. Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge. Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
TITUS. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren whom your Goths beheld Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain Religiously they ask a sacrifice. To this your son is marked, and die he must, T’ appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
LUCIUS. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let’s hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.
[Exeunt Titus’ sons with Alarbus.]
TAMORA. O cruel, irreligious piety!
CHIRON. Was never Scythia half so barbarous!
DEMETRIUS. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive To tremble under Titus’ threat’ning look. Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal The self-same gods that armed the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, (When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen) To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Enter the sons of Andronicus again with bloody swords.
LUCIUS. See, lord and father, how we have performed Our Roman rites. Alarbus’ limbs are lopped, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky. Remaineth naught but to inter our brethren, And with loud ’larums welcome them to Rome.
TITUS. Let it be so; and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Sound trumpets, and lay the coffin in the tomb.]
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome’s readiest champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps. Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned drugs; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons.
Enter Lavinia.
LAVINIA. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; My noble lord and father, live in fame. Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears I render for my brethren’s obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy Shed on this earth for thy return to Rome. O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Rome’s best citizens applaud.
TITUS. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! Lavinia, live; outlive thy father’s days, And fame’s eternal date, for virtue’s praise.
Enter Marcus Andronicus and Tribunes; re-enter Saturninus, Bassianus and others.
MARCUS. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome.
TITUS. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
MARCUS. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country’s service drew your swords; But safer triumph is this funeral pomp That hath aspired to Solon’s happiness And triumphs over chance in honour’s bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, This palliament of white and spotless hue, And name thee in election for the empire With these our late-deceased emperor’s sons. Be candidatus then, and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Rome.
TITUS. A better head her glorious body fits Than his that shakes for age and feebleness. What, should I don this robe and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations today, Tomorrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my country’s strength successfully, And buried one and twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country. Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world. Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
MARCUS. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
SATURNINUS. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
TITUS. Patience, Prince Saturninus.
SATURNINUS. Romans, do me right. Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them not Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor. Andronicus, would thou were shipped to hell Rather than rob me of the people’s hearts!
LUCIUS. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee!
TITUS. Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee The people’s hearts, and wean them from themselves.
BASSIANUS. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honour thee, and will do till I die. My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be; and thanks to men Of noble minds is honourable meed.
TITUS. People of Rome, and people’s tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages. Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
TRIBUNES. To gratify the good Andronicus, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits.
TITUS. Tribunes, I thank you; and this suit I make, That you create your emperor’s eldest son, Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titan’s rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal. Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him, and say “Long live our emperor!”
MARCUS. With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor, And say “Long live our Emperor Saturnine!”
[A long flourish.]
SATURNINUS. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day, I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness. And for an onset, Titus, to advance Thy name and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my empress, Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse. Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
TITUS. It doth, my worthy lord, and in this match I hold me highly honoured of your grace; And here in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, The wide world’s emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners; Presents well worthy Rome’s imperious lord. Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet.
SATURNINUS. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life. How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me.
TITUS. [To Tamora.] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; To him that for your honour and your state Will use you nobly and your followers.
SATURNINUS. A goodly lady, trust me, of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance. Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou com’st not to be made a scorn in Rome. Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes. Madam, he comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?
LAVINIA. Not I, my lord, sith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
SATURNINUS. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go. Ransomless here we set our prisoners free. Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
[Flourish. Saturninus and his Guards exit, with Drums and Trumpets. Tribunes and Senators exit aloft.]
BASSIANUS. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
TITUS. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord?
BASSIANUS. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal To do myself this reason and this right.
MARCUS. Suum cuique is our Roman justice. This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
LUCIUS. And that he will and shall, if Lucius live.
TITUS. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor’s guard?
Enter Saturninus and his Guards.
Treason, my lord, Lavinia is surprised.
SATURNINUS. Surprised? By whom?
BASSIANUS. By him that justly may Bear his betrothed from all the world away.
[Exeunt Bassianus and Marcus with Lavinia.]
MUTIUS. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I’ll keep this door safe.
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus and Martius.]
TITUS. Follow, my lord, and I’ll soon bring her back.
[Exeunt Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and Guards.]
MUTIUS. My lord, you pass not here.
TITUS. What, villain boy, Barr’st me my way in Rome?
[Stabbing Mutius.]
MUTIUS. Help, Lucius, help!
[Dies.]
Re-enter Lucius.
LUCIUS. My lord, you are unjust, and more than so, In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
TITUS. Nor thou nor he are any sons of mine; My sons would never so dishonour me. Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor.
LUCIUS. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another’s lawful promised love.
[Exit.]
Enter aloft the Emperor Saturninus with Tamora and her two sons and Aaron the Moor.
SATURNINUS. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock. I’ll trust by leisure him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Confederates all thus to dishonour me. Was none in Rome to make a stale But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine That said’st I begged the empire at thy hands.
TITUS. O monstrous! What reproachful words are these?
SATURNINUS. But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece To him that flourished for her with his sword. A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
TITUS. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
SATURNINUS. And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths, That like the stately Phœbe ’mongst her nymphs Dost overshine the gallant’st dames of Rome, If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice, Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee Empress of Rome. Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods, Sith priest and holy water are so near, And tapers burn so bright, and everything In readiness for Hymenæus stand, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espoused my bride along with me.
TAMORA. And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
SATURNINUS. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered. There shall we consummate our spousal rites.
[Exeunt all but Titus.]
TITUS. I am not bid to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonoured thus, and challenged of wrongs?
Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus and Martius.
MARCUS. O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
TITUS. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonoured all our family. Unworthy brother and unworthy sons!
LUCIUS. But let us give him burial, as becomes; Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
TITUS. Traitors, away! He rests not in this tomb. This monument five hundred years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously re-edified. Here none but soldiers and Rome’s servitors Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls. Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
MARCUS. My lord, this is impiety in you. My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him; He must be buried with his brethren.
MARTIUS. And shall, or him we will accompany.
TITUS. “And shall”? What villain was it spake that word?
QUINTUS. He that would vouch it in any place but here.
TITUS. What, would you bury him in my despite?
MARCUS. No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
TITUS. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded. My foes I do repute you every one; So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
QUINTUS. He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
MARTIUS. Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried.
[Marcus and the sons of Titus kneel.]
MARCUS. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—
QUINTUS. Father, and in that name doth nature speak,—
TITUS. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
MARCUS. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,—
LUCIUS. Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—
MARCUS. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue’s nest, That died in honour and Lavinia’s cause. Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous. The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax, That slew himself; and wise Laertes’ son Did graciously plead for his funerals. Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy, Be barred his entrance here.
TITUS. Rise, Marcus, rise. The dismall’st day is this that e’er I saw, To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome! Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
[They put Mutius in the tomb.]
LUCIUS. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.
ALL. [Kneeling.] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue’s cause.
MARCUS. My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?
TITUS. I know not, Marcus, but I know it is. Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell. Is she not then beholding to the man That brought her for this high good turn so far? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
Flourish. Enter the Emperor Saturninus, Tamora and her two sons, with Aaron the Moor. Drums and Trumpets, at one door. Enter at the other door Bassianus and Lavinia with others.
SATURNINUS. So, Bassianus, you have played your prize. God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
BASSIANUS. And you of yours, my lord. I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.
SATURNINUS. Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.
BASSIANUS. Rape call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My true betrothed love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Meanwhile am I possessed of that is mine.
SATURNINUS. ’Tis good, sir. You are very short with us; But if we live, we’ll be as sharp with you.
BASSIANUS. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must, and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your grace to know: By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wronged, That, in the rescue of Lavinia, With his own hand did slay his youngest son, In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath To be controlled in that he frankly gave. Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, That hath expressed himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
TITUS. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds. ’Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge How I have loved and honoured Saturnine.
TAMORA. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak indifferently for all; And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
SATURNINUS. What, madam, be dishonoured openly, And basely put it up without revenge?
TAMORA. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you! But on mine honour dare I undertake For good Lord Titus’ innocence in all, Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs. Then at my suit look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. [Aside.] My lord, be ruled by me, be won at last; Dissemble all your griefs and discontents. You are but newly planted in your throne; Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, Upon a just survey take Titus’ part, And so supplant you for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, Yield at entreats, and then let me alone. I’ll find a day to massacre them all, And raze their faction and their family, The cruel father and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son’s life; And make them know what ’tis to let a queen Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain. [Aloud.] Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus; Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.
SATURNINUS. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevailed.
TITUS. I thank your majesty and her, my lord. These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
TAMORA. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconciled your friends and you. For you, Prince Bassianus, I have passed My word and promise to the emperor That you will be more mild and tractable. And fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia. By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty.
LUCIUS. We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness That what we did was mildly as we might, Tend’ring our sister’s honour and our own.
MARCUS. That on mine honour here do I protest.
SATURNINUS. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.
TAMORA. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends. The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back.
SATURNINUS. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother’s here, And at my lovely Tamora’s entreats, I do remit these young men’s heinous faults. Stand up. Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend, and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest. Come, if the emperor’s court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.
TITUS. Tomorrow, an it please your majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound we’ll give your grace bonjour.
SATURNINUS. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too.
[Sound trumpets. Exeunt all but Aaron.]
Act II, Scene I — Rome. Before the palace
Aaron alone.
AARON. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top, Safe out of Fortune’s shot, and sits aloft, Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning’s flash, Advanced above pale envy’s threat’ning reach. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistening coach, And overlooks the highest-peering hills; So Tamora. Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart and fit thy thoughts To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fett’red in amorous chains, And faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, To wait upon this new-made empress. To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, This siren, that will charm Rome’s Saturnine, And see his shipwrack and his commonweal’s. Holla! What storm is this?
Enter Chiron and Demetrius braving.
DEMETRIUS. Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wit wants edge And manners, to intrude where I am graced, And may, for aught thou knowest, affected be.
CHIRON. Demetrius, thou dost overween in all, And so in this, to bear me down with braves. ’Tis not the difference of a year or two Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate. I am as able and as fit as thou To serve and to deserve my mistress’ grace; And that my sword upon thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinia’s love.
AARON. [Aside.] Clubs, clubs! These lovers will not keep the peace.
DEMETRIUS. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised, Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends? Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath Till you know better how to handle it.
CHIRON. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
DEMETRIUS. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?
[They draw.]
AARON. Why, how now, lords! So near the emperor’s palace dare ye draw, And maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge. I would not for a million of gold The cause were known to them it most concerns; Nor would your noble mother for much more Be so dishonoured in the court of Rome. For shame, put up.
DEMETRIUS. Not I, till I have sheathed My rapier in his bosom, and withal Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.
CHIRON. For that I am prepared and full resolved, Foul-spoken coward, that thund’rest with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing dar’st perform.
AARON. Away, I say! Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, This pretty brabble will undo us all. Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous It is to jet upon a prince’s right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broached Without controlment, justice, or revenge? Young lords, beware! And should the empress know This discord’s ground, the music would not please.
CHIRON. I care not, I, knew she and all the world. I love Lavinia more than all the world.
DEMETRIUS. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice. Lavina is thine elder brother’s hope.
AARON. Why, are ye mad? Or know ye not in Rome How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brook competitors in love? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths By this device.
CHIRON. Aaron, a thousand deaths Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.
AARON. To achieve her! How?
DEMETRIUS. Why makes thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be wooed; She is a woman, therefore may be won; She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. What, man, more water glideth by the mill Than wots the miller of; and easy it is Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know. Though Bassianus be the emperor’s brother, Better than he have worn Vulcan’s badge.
AARON. [Aside.] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.
DEMETRIUS. Then why should he despair that knows to court it With words, fair looks, and liberality? What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keeper’s nose?
AARON. Why, then, it seems some certain snatch or so Would serve your turns.
CHIRON. Ay, so the turn were served.
DEMETRIUS. Aaron, thou hast hit it.
AARON. Would you had hit it too! Then should not we be tired with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye, and are you such fools To square for this? Would it offend you then That both should speed?
CHIRON. Faith, not me.
DEMETRIUS. Nor me, so I were one.
AARON. For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar. ’Tis policy and stratagem must do That you affect; and so must you resolve That what you cannot as you would achieve, You must perforce accomplish as you may. Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste Than this Lavinia, Bassianus’ love. A speedier course than ling’ring languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; There will the lovely Roman ladies troop. The forest walks are wide and spacious, And many unfrequented plots there are Fitted by kind for rape and villainy. Single you thither, then, this dainty doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words. This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit To villainy and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all what we intend; And she shall file our engines with advice That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes’ height advance you both. The emperor’s court is like the house of Fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes and ears; The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull. There speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; There serve your lust, shadowed from heaven’s eye, And revel in Lavinia’s treasury.
CHIRON. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.
DEMETRIUS. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, Per Stygia, per manes vehor.
[Exeunt.]
Act II, Scene II — A Forest near Rome; a Lodge seen at a distance. Horns and cry of hounds heard
Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sons, and Marcus, making a noise with hounds and horns.
TITUS. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green. Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, And rouse the prince, and ring a hunter’s peal, That all the court may echo with the noise. Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the emperor’s person carefully. I have been troubled in my sleep this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.
Here a cry of hounds, and wind horns in a peal. Then enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their Attendants.
Many good morrows to your majesty; Madam, to you as many and as good. I promised your grace a hunter’s peal.
SATURNINUS. And you have rung it lustily, my lords; Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
BASSIANUS. Lavinia, how say you?
LAVINIA. I say no; I have been broad awake two hours and more.
SATURNINUS. Come on then; horse and chariots let us have, And to our sport. [To Tamora.] Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting.
MARCUS. I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top.
TITUS. And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o’er the plain.
DEMETRIUS. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.
[Exeunt.]
Act II, Scene III — A lonely part of the Forest
Enter Aaron, alone, carrying a bag of gold.
AARON. He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villainy. And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest That have their alms out of the empress’ chest.
[He hides the bag.]
Enter Tamora alone to the Moor.
TAMORA. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look’st thou sad When everything doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snakes lie rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequered shadow on the ground. Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise; And after conflict such as was supposed The wand’ring prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other’s arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurse’s song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
AARON. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine. What signifies my deadly-standing eye, My silence and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls Even as an adder when she doth unroll To do some fatal execution? No, madam, these are no venereal signs. Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus; His Philomel must lose her tongue today, Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus’ blood. Seest thou this letter? Take it up, I pray thee, And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll. Now question me no more; we are espied; Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives’ destruction.
Enter Bassianus and Lavinia.
TAMORA. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life!
AARON. No more, great empress. Bassianus comes. Be cross with him; and I’ll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoe’er they be.
[Exit.]
BASSIANUS. Who have we here? Rome’s royal empress, Unfurnished of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy groves To see the general hunting in this forest?
TAMORA. Saucy controller of my private steps! Had I the power that some say Dian had, Thy temples should be planted presently With horns, as was Actaeon’s; and the hounds Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, Unmannerly intruder as thou art.
LAVINIA. Under your patience, gentle empress, ’Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning, And to be doubted that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments. Jove shield your husband from his hounds today! ’Tis pity they should take him for a stag.
BASSIANUS. Believe me, queen, your swarthy Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his body’s hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequestered from all your train, Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed, And wandered hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, If foul desire had not conducted you?
LAVINIA. And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, And let her joy her raven-coloured love; This valley fits the purpose passing well.
BASSIANUS. The king my brother shall have notice of this.
LAVINIA. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long. Good king, to be so mightily abused!
TAMORA. Why, I have patience to endure all this.
Enter Chiron and Demetrius.
DEMETRIUS. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
TAMORA. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have ticed me hither to this place, A barren detested vale you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe. Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven. And when they showed me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew, And leave me to this miserable death. And then they called me foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect. And had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed. Revenge it, as you love your mother’s life, Or be ye not henceforth called my children.
DEMETRIUS. This is a witness that I am thy son.
[Stabs Bassianus.]
CHIRON. And this for me, struck home to show my strength.
[Also stabs Bassianus, who dies.]
LAVINIA. Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora, For no name fits thy nature but thy own!
TAMORA. Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys, Your mother’s hand shall right your mother’s wrong.
DEMETRIUS. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her. First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw. This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hope braves your mightiness; And shall she carry this unto her grave?
CHIRON. And if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
TAMORA. But when ye have the honey ye desire, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.
CHIRON. I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy That nice-preserved honesty of yours.
LAVINIA. O Tamora, thou bearest a woman’s face,—
TAMORA. I will not hear her speak; away with her!
LAVINIA. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.
DEMETRIUS. Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory To see her tears; but be your heart to them As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.
LAVINIA. When did the tiger’s young ones teach the dam? O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee; The milk thou suck’st from her did turn to marble; Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. Yet every mother breeds not sons alike. [To Chiron.] Do thou entreat her show a woman’s pity.
CHIRON. What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?
LAVINIA. ’Tis true the raven doth not hatch a lark. Yet have I heard—O, could I find it now!— The lion, moved with pity, did endure To have his princely paws pared all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests. 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 poured 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 called a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place! For ’tis not life that I have begged 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 stayed 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.
[They put Bassianus’s body in the pit and exit, carrying 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 deflower.
[Exit.]
Enter Aaron with two of Titus’ sons, 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 it not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
[He falls into the pit.]
QUINTUS. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briers, Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood As fresh as morning dew distilled 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 have 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 who it is; for ne’er till now Was I a child to fear I know not what.
MARTIUS. Lord Bassianus lies berayed in blood, All on a heap, like to a slaughtered 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 plucked 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 the Emperor Saturninus and Aaron the Moor.
SATURNINUS. Along with me! I’ll see what hole is here, And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say, who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
MARTIUS. The unhappy sons 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 them there.
MARTIUS. We know not where you left them all alive; But, out, alas, here have we found him dead.
Enter Tamora, 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 Saturnine 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._ O Tamora, was ever heard the like? 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.
[Showing it.]
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. 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. I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail; For by my fathers’ 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 murdered 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. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them.
[Exeunt severally. Attendants bearing the body.]
Act II, Scene IV — Another part of the Forest
Enter the empress’ sons, Demetrius and Chiron with Lavinia, her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravished.
DEMETRIUS. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who ’twas that cut thy tongue and ravished 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 cause, I should go hang myself.
DEMETRIUS. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
[Exeunt Chiron and Demetrius.]
Enter Marcus, from hunting.
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 an eternal sleep! Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Hath lopped and hewed 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 half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirred 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 stopped, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomela, why she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sewed 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 sewed 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 touched them for his life. Or had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropped 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.]