Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > Titus Andronicus
William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.
Titus Andronicus
Act I. Scene I.
The Tomb of the Andronici appearing.  The Tribunes and Senators aloft; and then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one door, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with drum and colours.
  Sat.  Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,        5
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born 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.        10
  Bas.  Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right,
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar’s son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol,
And suffer not dishonour to approach        15
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, with the crown.
  Mar.  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,        25
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        30
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok’d a nation, strong, train’d up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms        35
Our enemies’ pride: five times he hath return’d
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,        40
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,        45
That you withdraw you and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
  Sat.  How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
  Bas.  Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy        50
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,        55
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people’s favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh’d.  [Exeunt the Followers of BASSIANUS.
  Sat.  Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,
I thank you all and here dismiss you all;        60
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.        65
  Bas.  Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.  [Flourish.  They go up into the Senate-house.
Enter a Captain.
  Cap.  Romans, make way! the good Andronicus,
Patron of virtue, Rome’s best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,        70
With honour and with fortune is return’d
From where he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Drums and trumpets sounded, and then enter MARTIUS and MUTIUS; after them two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS.  After them TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following.  The bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks.
  Tit.  Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!        75
Lo! as the bark, that hath discharg’d her fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh’d her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,        80
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,        85
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 among their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.        90
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.  [The tomb is opened.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,        95
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 of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!        100
  Luc.  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 unappeas’d,        105
Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth.
  Tit.  I give him you, the noblest that survives
The eldest son of this distressed queen.
  Tam.  Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,        110
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,        115
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter’d 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.        120
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.        125
  Tit.  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 mark’d, and die he must,        130
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
  Luc.  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 consum’d.  [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS.
  Tam.  O cruel, irreligious piety!        135
  Chi.  Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
  Dem.  Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus’ threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolv’d; but hope withal        140
The self-same gods, that arm’d 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—        145
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody.
  Luc.  See, lord and father, how we have perform’d
Our Roman rites. Alarbus’ limbs are lopp’d,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,        150
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren,
And with loud ’larums welcome them to Rome.
  Tit.  Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.  [Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb.        155
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,        160
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
  Lav.  In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!        165
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 the earth for thy return to Rome.
O! bless me here with thy victorious hand,        170
Whose fortunes Rome’s best citizens applaud.
  Tit.  Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv’d
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!        175
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes; re-enter SATURNINUS, BASSIANUS and Others.
  Mar.  Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
  Tit.  Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus.
  Mar.  And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,        180
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 aspir’d to Solon’s happiness,        185
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;        190
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.
  Tit.  A better head her glorious body fits        195
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness.
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?        200
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.        205
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.
  Mar.  Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
  Sat.  Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?        210
  Tit.  Patience, Prince Saturninus.
  Sat.        Romans, do me right:
Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them not
Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor.
Andronicus, would thou wert shipp’d to hell,        215
Rather than rob me of the people’s hearts!
  Luc.  Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!
  Tit.  Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
The people’s hearts, and wean them from themselves.        220
  Bas.  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.        225
  Tit.  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,        230
The people will accept whom he admits.
  Tit.  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,        235
And ripen justice in this commonweal:
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and say, ‘Long live our emperor!’
  Mar.  With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians and plebeians, we create        240
Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor,
And say, ‘Long live our Emperor Saturnine!’  [A long flourish.
  Sat.  Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done
To us in our election this day,
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,        245
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,        250
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse.
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
  Tit.  It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
I hold me highly honour’d of your Grace:
And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine,        255
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,        260
Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet.
  Sat.  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,        265
Romans, forget your fealty to me.
  Tit.  [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.
  Sat.  A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue        270
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.        275
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 displeas’d with this?
  Lav.  Not I, my lord; sith true nobility        280
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
  Sat.  Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go;
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.  [Flourish.  SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show.
  Bas.  Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.  [Seizing LAVINIA.        285
  Tit.  How, sir! Are you in earnest then, my lord?
  Bas.  Ay, noble Titus; and resolv’d withal
To do myself this reason and this right.
  Mar.  Suum cuique is our Roman justice:
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.        290
  Luc.  And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
  Tit.  Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor’s guard?
Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surpris’d.
  Sat.  Surpris’d! By whom?
  Bas.        By him that justly may        295
Bear his betroth’d from all the world away.  [Exeunt MARCUS and BASSIANUS with LAVINIA.
  Mut.  Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my sword I’ll keep this door safe.  [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS.
  Tit.  Follow, my lord, and I’ll soon bring her back.
  Mut.  My lord, you pass not here.        300
  Tit.        What! villain boy;
Barr’st me my way in Rome?  [Stabs MUTIUS.
  Mut.        Help, Lucius, help!  [Dies.
Re-enter LUCIUS.
  Luc.  My lord, you are unjust; and, more than so,        305
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
  Tit.  Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine;
My sons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.
  Luc.  Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife        310
That is another’s lawful promis’d love.  [Exit.
  Sat.  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,        315
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was none in Rome to make a stale
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agreed these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That saidst I begg’d the empire at thy hands.        320
  Tit.  O monstrous! what reproachful words are these!
  Sat.  But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish’d for her with his sword.
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,        325
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
  Tit.  These words are razors to my wounded heart.
  Sat.  And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths,
That like the stately Phœbe ’mongst her nymphs,
Dost overshine the gallant’st dames of Rome,        330
If thou be pleas’d 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,        335
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymenæus stand,
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place        340
I lead espous’d my bride along with me.
  Tam.  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.        345
  Sat.  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 rights.  [Exeunt all but TITUS.        350
  Tit.  I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonour’d thus, and challenged of wrongs?
  Mar.  O! Titus, see, O! see what thou hast done;        355
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
  Tit.  No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed
That hath dishonour’d all our family:
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!        360
  Luc.  But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
  Tit.  Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb.
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified:        365
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.
  Mar.  My lord, this is impiety in you.
My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him;        370
He must be buried with his brethren.
  Quin. & Mart.  And shall, or him we will accompany.
  Tit.  And shall! What villain was it spake that word?
  Quin.  He that would vouch it in any place but here.
  Tit.  What! would you bury him in my despite?        375
  Mar.  No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee
To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
  Tit.  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;        380
So, trouble me no more, but get you gone.
  Mart.  He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
  Quin.  Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried.  [MARCUS and the sons of TITUS kneel.
  Mar.  Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—
  Quin.  Father, and in that name doth nature speak,—        385
  Tit.  Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
  Mar.  Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,—
  Luc.  Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—
  Mar.  Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
His noble nephew here in virtue’s nest,        390
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.        395
Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be barr’d his entrance here.
  Tit.        Rise, Marcus, rise.
The dismall’st day is this that e’er I saw,
To be dishonour’d by my sons in Rome!        400
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.  [MUTIUS is put into the tomb.
  Luc.  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.        405
  Mar.  My lord,—to step out of these dreary dumps,—
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanc’d in Rome?
  Tit.  I know not, Marcus; but I know it is,
Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell.        410
Is she not, then, beholding to the man
That brought her for this high good turn so far?
  Mar.  Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
Flourish.  Re-enter, on one side, SATURNINUS, attended; TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and AARON: on the other side, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA and Others.
  Sat.  So, Bassianus, you have play’d your prize:        415
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
  Bas.  And you of yours, my lord! I say no more,
Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.
  Sat.  Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power,
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.        420
  Bas.  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, I am possess’d of that is mine.
  Sat.  ’Tis good, sir: you are very short with us;        425
But, if we live, we’ll be as sharp with you.
  Bas.  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,        430
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong’d;
That, in the rescue of Lavinia,
With his own hand did slay his youngest son,
In zeal to you and highly mov’d to wrath        435
To be controll’d in that he frankly gave:
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine,
That hath express’d himself in all his deeds
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
  Tit.  Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds:        440
’Tis thou and those that have dishonour’d me.
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,
How I have lov’d and honour’d Saturnine!
  Tam.  My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,        445
Then hear me speak indifferently for all;
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
  Sat.  What, madam! be dishonour’d openly,
And basely put it up without revenge?
  Tam.  Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend        450
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;        455
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.
[Aside to SATURNINUS.]  My lord, be rul’d by me, be won at last;
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:
You are but newly planted in your throne;        460
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.        465
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        470
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.
  Sat.  Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail’d.        475
  Tit.  I thank your majesty, and her, my lord.
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
  Tam.  Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,
A Roman now adopted happily,
And must advise the emperor for his good.        480
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus;
And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
That I have reconcil’d your friends and you.
For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass’d
My word and promise to the emperor,        485
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.
  Luc.  We do; and vow to heaven and to his highness,        490
That what we did was mildly, as we might,
Tendering our sister’s honour and our own.
  Mar.  That on mine honour here I do protest.
  Sat.  Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.
  Tam.  Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends:        495
The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back.
  Sat.  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:        500
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,        505
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends.
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.
  Tit.  To-morrow, an it please your majesty
To hunt the panther and the hart with me,
With horn and hound we’ll give your Grace bon jour.        510
  Sat.  Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too.  [Trumpets.  Exeunt.

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