Chapter 1

Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:

Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

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As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

Michael S. Hart Project Gutenberg Executive Director

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Scanner's Notes:

What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions' best pages.

David Reed

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The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft And then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one doore, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with Drum & Colours.

Saturninus. Noble Patricians, Patrons of my right, Defend the iustice of my Cause with Armes. And Countrey-men, my louing Followers, Pleade my Successiue Title with your Swords. I was the first borne Sonne, that was the last That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome: Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me, Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie

Bassianus. Romaines, Friends, Followers, Fauourers of my Right: If euer Bassianus, Cæsars Sonne, Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome, Keepe then this passage to the Capitoll: And suffer not Dishonour to approach Th' Imperiall Seate to Vertue: consecrate To Iustice, Continence, and Nobility: But let Desert in pure Election shine; And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice. Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft with the Crowne.

Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends, Ambitiously for Rule and Empery: Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand A speciall Party, haue by Common voyce In Election for the Romane Emperie, Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious, For many good and great deserts to Rome. A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour, Liues not this day within the City Walles. He by the Senate is accited home From weary Warres against the barbarous Gothes, That with his Sonnes (a terror to our Foes) Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes. Ten yeares are spent, since first he vndertooke This Cause of Rome, and chasticed with Armes Our Enemies pride. Fiue times he hath return'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes In Coffins from the Field. And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles, Returnes the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes. Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name, Whom (worthily) you would haue now succeede, And in the Capitoll and Senates right, Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore, That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength, Dismisse your Followers, and as Suters should, Pleade your Deserts in Peace and Humblenesse

Saturnine. How fayre the Tribune speakes, To calme my thoughts

Bassia. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affie In thy vprightnesse and Integrity: And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine, Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes, And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled all) Gracious Lauinia, Romes rich Ornament, That I will heere dismisse my louing Friends: And to my Fortunes, and the Peoples Fauour, Commit my Cause in ballance to be weigh'd.

Exit Souldiours.

Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene Thus forward in my Right, I thanke you all, and heere Dismisse you all, And to the Loue and Fauour of my Countrey, Commit my Selfe, my Person, and the Cause: Rome, be as iust and gracious vnto me, As I am confident and kinde to thee. Open the Gates, and let me in

Bassia. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.

Flourish. They go vp into the Senat house.

Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of Vertue, Romes best Champion, Successefull in the Battailes that he fights, With Honour and with Fortune is return'd, From whence he circumscribed with his Sword, And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other Sonnes. After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queene of Gothes, & her two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as many as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus speakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome: Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes: Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught, Returnes with precious lading to the Bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her Anchorage: Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes, To resalute his Country with his teares, Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome, Thou great defender of this Capitoll, Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend. Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Halfe of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead! These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue: These that I bring vnto their latest home, With buriall amongst their Auncestors. Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword: Titus vnkinde, and carelesse of thine owne, Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet, To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix? Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.

There greete in silence as the dead are wont, And sleepe in peace, slaine in your Countries warres: O sacred receptacle of my ioyes, Sweet Cell of vertue and Nobilitie, How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt neuer render to me more? Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes, That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh: Before this earthly prison of their bones, That so the shadowes be not vnappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth

Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues, The eldest Son of this distressed Queene

Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed, A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne: And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee, Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake, But must my Sonnes be slaughtred in the streetes, For Valiant doings in their Countries cause? O! If to fight for King and Common-weale, Were piety in thine, it is in these: Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood. Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods? Draw neere them then in being mercifull. Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge, Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne

Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me. These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine, Religiously they aske a sacrifice: To this your sonne is markt, and die he must, T' appease their groaning shadowes that are gone

Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.

Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety

Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous? Dem. Oppose me Scythia to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue, To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes. Then Madam stand resolu'd, but hope withall, The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent, May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes, (When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene) To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes. Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt, And intrals feede the sacrifising fire, Whole smoke like incense doth perfume the skie. Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren, And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their Soules.

Flourish.

Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.

In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes, Romes readiest Champions, repose you heere in rest, Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps: Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie swels, Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no stormes, No noyse, but silence and Eternall sleepe, In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes. Enter Lauinia.

Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long, My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame: Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares, I render for my Bretherens Obsequies: And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome. O blesse me heere with thy victorious hand, Whose Fortune Romes best Citizens applau'd

Ti. Kind Rome, That hast thus louingly reseru'd The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart, Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes: And Fames eternall date for vertues praise

Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother, Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome

Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune, Noble brother Marcus

Mar. And welcome Nephews from succesfull wars, You that suruiue and you that sleepe in Fame: Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all, That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords. But safer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe, That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines, And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in iustice thou hast euer bene, Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust, This Palliament of white and spotlesse Hue, And name thee in Election for the Empire, With these our late deceased Emperours Sonnes: Be Candidatus then, and put it on, And helpe to set a head on headlesse Rome

Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits, Then his that shakes for age and feeblenesse: What should I don this Robe and trouble you, Be chosen with proclamations to day, To morrow yeeld vp rule, resigne my life, And set abroad new businesse for you all. Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares, And led my Countries strength successefully, And buried one and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Knighted in Field, slaine manfully in Armes, In right and Seruice of their Noble Countrie: Giue me a staffe of Honour for mine age, But not a Scepter to controule the world, Vpright he held it Lords, that held it last

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtaine and aske the Emperie

Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune can'st thou tell? Titus. Patience Prince Saturninus

Sat. Romaines do me right. Patricians draw your Swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Romes Emperour: Andronicus would thou wert shipt to hell, Rather then rob me of the peoples harts

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That Noble minded Titus meanes to thee

Tit. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee The peoples harts, and weane them from themselues

Bass. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee But Honour thee, and will doe till I die: My Faction if thou strengthen with thy Friend? I will most thankefull be, and thankes to men Of Noble mindes, is Honourable Meede

Tit. People of Rome, and Noble Tribunes heere, I aske your voyces and your Suffrages, Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Tribunes. To gratifie the good Andronicus, And Gratulate his safe returne to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits

Tit. Tribunes I thanke you, and this sure I make, That you Create your Emperours eldest sonne, Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope, Reflect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth, And ripen Iustice in this Common-weale: Then if you will elect by my aduise, Crowne him, and say: Long liue our Emperour

Mar. An. With Voyces and applause of euery sort, Patricians and Plebeans we Create Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour. And say, Long liue our Emperour Saturnine.

A long Flourish till they come downe.

Satu. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done, To vs in our Election this day, I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deserts, And will with Deeds requite thy gentlenesse: And for an Onset Titus to aduance Thy Name, and Honorable Familie, Lauinia will I make my Empresse, Romes Royall Mistris, Mistris of my hart And in the Sacred Pathan her espouse: Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee? Tit. It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match, I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace, And heere in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and Commander of our Common-weale, The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Consecrate, My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prisoners, Presents well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord: Receiue them then, the Tribute that I owe, Mine Honours Ensignes humbled at my feete

Satu. Thankes 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 vnspeakable Deserts, Romans forget your Fealtie to me

Tit. Now Madam are you prisoner to an Emperour, To him that for your Honour and your State, Will vse you Nobly and your followers

Satu. A goodly Lady, trust me of the Hue That I would choose, were I to choose a new: Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance, Though chance of warre Hath wrought this change of cheere, Thou com'st not to be made a scorne in Rome: Princely shall be thy vsage euery way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you, Can make you Greater then the Queene of Gothes? Lauinia you are not displeas'd with this? Lau. Not I my Lord, sith true Nobilitie, Warrants these words in Princely curtesie

Sat. Thankes sweete Lauinia, Romans let vs goe: Ransomlesse heere we set our Prisoners free, Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and Drum

Bass. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine

Tit. How sir? Are you in earnest then my Lord? Bass. I Noble Titus, and resolu'd withall, To doe my selfe this reason, and this right

Marc. Suum cuiquam, is our Romane Iustice, This Prince in Iustice ceazeth but his owne

Luc. And that he will and shall, if Lucius liue

Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde? Treason my Lord, Lauinia is surpris'd

Sat. Surpris'd, by whom? Bass. By him that iustly may Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away

Muti. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away, And with my Sword Ile keepe this doore safe

Tit. Follow my Lord, and Ile soone bring her backe

Mut. My Lord you passe not heere

Tit. What villaine Boy, bar'st me my way in Rome? Mut. Helpe Lucius helpe. He kils him

Luc. My Lord you are vniust, and more then so, In wrongfull quarrell, you haue slaine your son

Tit. Nor thou, nor he are any sonnes of mine, My sonnes would neuer so dishonour me. Traytor restore Lauinia to the Emperour

Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife, That is anothers lawfull promist Loue. Enter aloft the Emperour with Tamora and her two sonnes, and Aaron the Moore.

Empe. No Titus, no, the Emperour needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stocke: Ile trust by Leisure him that mocks me once. Thee neuer: nor thy Trayterous haughty sonnes, 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 bragge of thine, That said'st, I beg'd the Empire at thy hands

Tit. O monstrous, what reproachfull words are these? Sat. But goe thy wayes, goe giue that changing peece, To him that flourisht for her with his Sword: A Valliant sonne in-law thou shalt enioy: One, fit to bandy with thy lawlesse Sonnes, To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome

Tit. These words are Razors to my wounded hart

Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes, That like the stately Thebe mong'st her Nimphs Dost ouer-shine the Gallant'st Dames of Rome, If thou be pleas'd with this my sodaine choyse, Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride, And will Create thee Empresse of Rome. Speake Queene of Goths dost thou applau'd my choyse? And heere I sweare by all the Romaine Gods, Sith Priest and Holy-water are so neere, And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing In readines for Hymeneus stand, I will not resalute the streets of Rome, Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place, I leade espous'd my Bride along with me

Tamo. And heere in sight of heauen to Rome I sweare, If Saturnine aduance the Queen of Gothes, Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires, A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth

Satur. Ascend Faire Queene, Panthean Lords, accompany Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride, Sent by the heauens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisedome hath her Fortune Conquered, There shall we Consummate our Spousall rites.

Exeunt. omnes.

Tit. I am not bid to waite vpon this Bride: Titus when wer't thou wont to walke alone, Dishonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs? Enter Marcus and Titus Sonnes.

Mar. O Titus see! O see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrell, slaine a Vertuous sonne

Tit. No foolish Tribune, no: No sonne of mine, Nor thou, nor these Confedrates in the deed, That hath dishonoured all our Family, Vnworthy brother, and vnworthy Sonnes

Luci. But let vs giue him buriall as becomes: Giue Mutius buriall with our Bretheren

Tit. Traytors away, he rest's not in this Tombe: This Monument fiue hundreth yeares hath stood, Which I haue Sumptuously re-edified. Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors, Repose in Fame: None basely slaine in braules, Bury him where you can, he comes not heere

Mar. My Lord this is impiety in you, My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him, He must be buried with his bretheren

Titus two Sonnes speakes. And shall, or him we will accompany

Ti. And shall! What villaine was it spake that word? Titus sonne speakes. He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere

Tit. What would you bury him in my despight? Mar. No Noble Titus, but intreat of thee, To pardon Mutius, and to bury him

Tit. Marcus, Euen thou hast stroke vpon my Crest, And with these Boyes mine Honour thou hast wounded, My foes I doe repute you euery one. So trouble me no more, but get you gone

1.Sonne. He is not himselfe, let vs withdraw

2.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.

The Brother and the sonnes kneele.

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd

2.Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature speake

Tit. Speake thou no more if all the rest will speede

Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my soule

Luc. Deare Father, soule and substance of vs all

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre His Noble Nephew heere in vertues nest, That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause. Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous: The Greekes vpon aduise did bury Aiax That slew himselfe: And Laertes sonne, Did graciously plead for his Funerals: Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy, Be bar'd his entrance heere

Tit. Rise Marcus, rise, The dismall'st day is this that ere I saw, To be dishonored by my Sonnes in Rome: Well, bury him, and bury me the next. They put him in the Tombe.

Luc. There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends. Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe.

They all kneele and say.

No man shed teares for Noble Mutius, He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause. Enter.

Mar. My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps, How comes it that the subtile Queene of Gothes, Is of a sodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome? Ti. I know not Marcus: but I know it is, (Whether by deuise or no) the heauens can tell, Is she not then beholding to the man, That brought her for this high good turne so farre? Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.

Flourish.

Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moore at one doore. Enter at the other doore Bassianus and Lauinia with others.

Sat. So Bassianus, you haue plaid your prize, God giue you ioy sir of your Gallant Bride

Bass. And you of yours my Lord: I say no more, Nor wish no lesse, and so I take my leaue

Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power, Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape

Bass. Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my owne, My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife? But let the lawes of Rome determine all, Meane while I am possest of that is mine

Sat. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with vs, But if we liue, weele be as sharpe with you

Bass. My Lord, what I haue done as best I may, Answere I must, and shall do with my life, Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know, By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, That in the rescue of Lauinia, With his owne hand did slay his youngest Son, In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath. To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue: Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine, That hath expre'st himselfe in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome

Tit. Prince Bassianus leaue to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and those, that haue dishonoured me, Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge, How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine

Tam. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora, Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine, Then heare me speake indifferently for all: And at my sute (sweet) pardon what is past