Part 187

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._]

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._]

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._]

ACT III

SCENE I. Rome. A street

Enter the Judges and Senators, with Titus’ two sons Quintus and Martius bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before, pleading.

TITUS. Hear me, grave fathers; noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome’s great quarrel shed, For all the frosty nights that I have watched, And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as ’tis thought. For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour’s lofty bed.

[_Andronicus lieth down, and the Judges pass by him._]

[_Exeunt with the prisoners as Titus continues speaking._]

For these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears. Let my tears staunch the earth’s dry appetite; My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Than youthful April shall with all his showers. In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still; In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow, And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.

Enter Lucius with his weapon drawn.

O reverend tribunes! O gentle aged men! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators.

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

TITUS. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—

LUCIUS. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.

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

LUCIUS. To rescue my two brothers from their death; For which attempt the judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment.

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

Enter Marcus with Lavinia.

MARCUS. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; Or if not so, thy noble heart to break. I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.

TITUS. Will it consume me? Let me see it then.

MARCUS. This was thy daughter.

TITUS. Why, Marcus, so she is.

LUCIUS. Ay me, this object kills me!

TITUS. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam’st, And now like Nilus it disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, I’ll chop off my hands too; For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nursed this woe in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other. ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome service is but vain.

LUCIUS. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyred thee?

MARCUS. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.

LUCIUS. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?

MARCUS. O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound.