Speeches (Lines) for Marcus Andronicus in "Titus Andronicus"

Total: 63
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 I / 1
  • Princes, that strive by factions and by friends
    Ambitiously for rule and emp...
  • 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 accit'd home
    From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
    That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
    Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd 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 return'd
    Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
    In coffins from the field;
    And now at last, laden with horror'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.
  • Bassianus. Romans, friends, followers, favorers 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.

    Marcus Andronicus. 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 accit'd home
    From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
    That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
    Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd 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 return'd
    Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
    In coffins from the field;
    And now at last, laden with horror'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.

2 I / 1
  • Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
    Gracious triumpher in the eyes of...
  • Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
    Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
  • Titus Andronicus. 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, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes;]
    re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended]

    Marcus Andronicus. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
    Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

3 I / 1
  • And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,
    You that survive, and you that s...
  • 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 Andronicus. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

    Marcus Andronicus. 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.

4 I / 1
  • Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
  • Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
  • Titus Andronicus. 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 to-day,
    To-morrow 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 Andronicus. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.

5 I / 1
  • With voices and applause of every sort,
    Patricians and plebeians, we create...
  • 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!'
  • Titus Andronicus. 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 Andronicus. 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!'

6 I / 1
  • 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice:
    This prince in justice seizeth but his o...
  • 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice:
    This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
  • Bassianus. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal
    To do myself this reason and this right.

    Marcus Andronicus. 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice:
    This prince in justice seizeth but his own.

7 I / 1
  • O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
    In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous...
  • O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
    In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
  • Titus Andronicus. I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
    Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
    Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

    Marcus Andronicus. O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
    In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

8 I / 1
  • My lord, this is impiety in you:
    My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him
  • My lord, this is impiety in you:
    My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him
    He must be buried with his brethren.
  • Titus Andronicus. 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 Andronicus. My lord, this is impiety in you:
    My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him
    He must be buried with his brethren.

9 I / 1
  • No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
    To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
  • No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
    To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
  • Titus Andronicus. What, would you bury him in my despite?

    Marcus Andronicus. No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee
    To pardon Mutius and to bury him.

10 I / 1
  • Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--
  • Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--
  • Quintus. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.

    Marcus Andronicus. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--

11 I / 1
  • Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--
  • Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--
  • Titus Andronicus. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.

    Marcus Andronicus. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--

12 I / 1
  • Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
    His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, <...
  • 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 barr'd his entrance here.
  • Lucius. Dear father, soul and substance of us all,--

    Marcus Andronicus. 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 barr'd his entrance here.

13 I / 1
  • My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps,
    How comes it that the subtle Que...
  • 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?
  • All. [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
    He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.

    Marcus Andronicus. 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?

14 I / 1
  • That, on mine honour, here I do protest.
  • That, on mine honour, here I do protest.
  • Lucius. We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness,
    That what we did was mildly as we might,
    Tendering our sister's honour and our own.

    Marcus Andronicus. That, on mine honour, here I do protest.

15 II / 2
  • I have dogs, my lord,
    Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
    And...
  • I have dogs, my lord,
    Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
    And climb the highest promontory top.
  • 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 Andronicus. I have dogs, my lord,
    Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,
    And climb the highest promontory top.

16 II / 4
  • Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!
    Cousin, a word; where is you...
  • 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 in eternal sleep!
    Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
    Have lopp'd and hew'd 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 have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
    Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
    Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd 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 stopp'd,
    Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
    Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
    And in a tedious sampler sew'd 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 sew'd 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 touch'd them for his life!
    Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
    Which that sweet tongue hath made,
    He would have dropp'd 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!
  • Demetrius. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.

    Marcus Andronicus. 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 in eternal sleep!
    Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
    Have lopp'd and hew'd 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 have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
    Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
    Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd 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 stopp'd,
    Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
    Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
    And in a tedious sampler sew'd 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 sew'd 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 touch'd them for his life!
    Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
    Which that sweet tongue hath made,
    He would have dropp'd 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!

17 III / 1
  • Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
    Or, if not so, thy noble heart to brea...
  • Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep;
    Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break:
    I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
  • Titus Andronicus. 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?

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

18 III / 1
  • This was thy daughter.
  • This was thy daughter.
  • Titus Andronicus. Will it consume me? let me see it, then.

    Marcus Andronicus. This was thy daughter.

19 III / 1
  • O, that delightful engine of her thoughts
    That blabb'd them with such pleasi...
  • O, that delightful engine of her thoughts
    That blabb'd 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. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee?

    Marcus Andronicus. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts
    That blabb'd 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!

20 III / 1
  • O, thus I found her, straying in the park,
    Seeking to hide herself, as doth...
  • O, thus I found her, straying in the park,
    Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
    That hath received some unrecuring wound.
  • Lucius. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed?

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

21 III / 1
  • Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband;
    Perchance because she k...
  • Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband;
    Perchance because she knows them innocent.
  • Titus Andronicus. It was my deer; and he that wounded her
    Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead:
    For now I stand as one upon a rock
    Environed with a wilderness of sea,
    Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
    Expecting ever when some envious surge
    Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
    This way to death my wretched sons are gone;
    Here stands my other son, a banished man,
    And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
    But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn,
    Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
    Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
    It would have madded me: what shall I do
    Now I behold thy lively body so?
    Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears:
    Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee:
    Thy husband he is dead: and for his death
    Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this.
    Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her!
    When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
    Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
    Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

    Marcus Andronicus. Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband;
    Perchance because she knows them innocent.

22 III / 1
  • Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
  • Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
  • Lucius. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief,
    See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.

    Marcus Andronicus. Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.

23 III / 1
  • Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
    And rear'd aloft the bloody batt...
  • Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
    And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
    Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
    O, none of both but are of high desert:
    My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
    To ransom my two nephews from their death;
    Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
  • Lucius. Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine,
    That hath thrown down so many enemies,
    Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn:
    My youth can better spare my blood than you;
    And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives.

    Marcus Andronicus. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
    And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe,
    Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?
    O, none of both but are of high desert:
    My hand hath been but idle; let it serve
    To ransom my two nephews from their death;
    Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

24 III / 1
  • My hand shall go.
  • My hand shall go.
  • Aaron. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along,
    For fear they die before their pardon come.

    Marcus Andronicus. My hand shall go.

25 III / 1
  • And, for our father's sake and mother's care,
    Now let me show a brother's lo...
  • And, for our father's sake and mother's care,
    Now let me show a brother's love to thee.
  • Lucius. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son,
    Let me redeem my brothers both from death.

    Marcus Andronicus. And, for our father's sake and mother's care,
    Now let me show a brother's love to thee.

26 III / 1
  • But I will use the axe.
  • But I will use the axe.
  • Lucius. Then I'll go fetch an axe.

    Marcus Andronicus. But I will use the axe.

27 III / 1
  • O brother, speak with possibilities,
    And do not break into these deep extrem...
  • O brother, speak with possibilities,
    And do not break into these deep extremes.
  • Titus Andronicus. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven,
    And bow this feeble ruin to the earth:
    If any power pities wretched tears,
    To that I call!
    [To LAVINIA]
    What, wilt thou kneel with me?
    Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers;
    Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim,
    And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds
    When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.

    Marcus Andronicus. O brother, speak with possibilities,
    And do not break into these deep extremes.

28 III / 1
  • But yet let reason govern thy lament.TITUS ANDRONICUS. If there were reason for...
  • But yet let reason govern thy lament.TITUS ANDRONICUS. If there were reason for these miseries,
    Then into limits could I bind my woes:
    When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
    If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
    Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face?
    And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
    I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
    She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
    Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
    Then must my earth with her continual tears
    Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd;
    For why my bowels cannot hide her woes,
    But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
    Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
    To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
  • Titus Andronicus. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
    Then be my passions bottomless with them.

    Marcus Andronicus. But yet let reason govern thy lament.TITUS ANDRONICUS. If there were reason for these miseries,
    Then into limits could I bind my woes:
    When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
    If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
    Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face?
    And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
    I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow!
    She is the weeping welkin, I the earth:
    Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
    Then must my earth with her continual tears
    Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd;
    For why my bowels cannot hide her woes,
    But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
    Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
    To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

29 III / 1
  • Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily,
    And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
    ...
  • Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily,
    And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
    These miseries are more than may be borne.
    To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;
    But sorrow flouted at is double death.
  • Messenger. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid
    For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor.
    Here are the heads of thy two noble sons;
    And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back;
    Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd;
    That woe is me to think upon thy woes
    More than remembrance of my father's death.

    Marcus Andronicus. Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily,
    And be my heart an ever-burning hell!
    These miseries are more than may be borne.
    To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;
    But sorrow flouted at is double death.

30 III / 1
  • Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
    As frozen water to a starved snak...
  • Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
    As frozen water to a starved snake.
  • Lucius. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound,
    And yet detested life not shrink thereat!
    That ever death should let life bear his name,
    Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!

    Marcus Andronicus. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
    As frozen water to a starved snake.

31 III / 1
  • Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
    Thou dost not slumber: see, thy tw...
  • Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
    Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads,
    Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:
    Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight
    Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,
    Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
    Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:
    Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
    Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
    The closing up of our most wretched eyes;
    Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?
  • Titus Andronicus. When will this fearful slumber have an end?

    Marcus Andronicus. Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;
    Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads,
    Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:
    Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight
    Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,
    Even like a stony image, cold and numb.
    Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:
    Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand
    Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight
    The closing up of our most wretched eyes;
    Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?

32 III / 1
  • Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
  • Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
  • Titus Andronicus. Ha, ha, ha!

    Marcus Andronicus. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.

33 III / 2
  • Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
    Such violent hands upon her ten...
  • Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
    Such violent hands upon her tender life.
  • Titus Andronicus. So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more
    Than will preserve just so much strength in us
    As will revenge these bitter woes of ours.
    Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:
    Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,
    And cannot passionate our tenfold grief
    With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine
    Is left to tyrannize upon my breast;
    Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,
    Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,
    Then thus I thump it down.
    [To LAVINIA]
    Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
    When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,
    Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
    Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;
    Or get some little knife between thy teeth,
    And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
    That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
    May run into that sink, and soaking in
    Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.

    Marcus Andronicus. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay
    Such violent hands upon her tender life.

34 III / 2
  • Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
    Doth weep to see his grandsire's hea...
  • Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
    Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.
  • Young Lucius. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments:
    Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

    Marcus Andronicus. Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved,
    Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.

35 III / 2
  • At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.
  • At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.
  • Titus Andronicus. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,
    And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
    [MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife]
    What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?

    Marcus Andronicus. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly.

36 III / 2
  • Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
  • Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.
  • Titus Andronicus. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart;
    Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny:
    A deed of death done on the innocent
    Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone:
    I see thou art not for my company.

    Marcus Andronicus. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.

37 III / 2
  • Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
    Like to the empress' Moor; t...
  • Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
    Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.
  • Titus Andronicus. But how, if that fly had a father and mother?
    How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
    And buzz lamenting doings in the air!
    Poor harmless fly,
    That, with his pretty buzzing melody,
    Came here to make us merry! and thou hast
    kill'd him.

    Marcus Andronicus. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly,
    Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.

38 III / 2
  • Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
    He takes false shadows for true...
  • Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
    He takes false shadows for true substances.
  • Titus Andronicus. O, O, O,
    Then pardon me for reprehending thee,
    For thou hast done a charitable deed.
    Give me thy knife, I will insult on him;
    Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor
    Come hither purposely to poison me.--
    There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.
    Ah, sirrah!
    Yet, I think, we are not brought so low,
    But that between us we can kill a fly
    That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.

    Marcus Andronicus. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
    He takes false shadows for true substances.

39 IV / 1
  • Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.
  • Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.
  • Young Lucius. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia
    Follows me every where, I know not why:
    Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
    Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

    Marcus Andronicus. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.

40 IV / 1
  • What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
  • What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
  • Young Lucius. Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

    Marcus Andronicus. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

41 IV / 1
  • Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
  • Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
  • Titus Andronicus. Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean:
    See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee:
    Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
    Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care
    Read to her sons than she hath read to thee
    Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.

    Marcus Andronicus. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

42 IV / 1
  • Lucius, I will.
    [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which]
    LUC...
  • Lucius, I will.
    [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which]
    LUCIUS has let fall]
  • Young Lucius. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
    Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
    For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
    Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
    And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
    Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;
    Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
    Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
    And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:
    Which made me down to throw my books, and fly--
    Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:
    And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
    I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

    Marcus Andronicus. Lucius, I will.
    [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which]
    LUCIUS has let fall]

43 IV / 1
  • I think she means that there was more than one
    Confederate in the fact: ay,...
  • I think she means that there was more than one
    Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;
    Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
  • Titus Andronicus. How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this?
    Some book there is that she desires to see.
    Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.
    But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd
    Come, and take choice of all my library,
    And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
    Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.
    Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?

    Marcus Andronicus. I think she means that there was more than one
    Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;
    Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.

44 IV / 1
  • For love of her that's gone,
    Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.
  • For love of her that's gone,
    Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.
  • Young Lucius. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;
    My mother gave it me.

    Marcus Andronicus. For love of her that's gone,
    Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest.

45 IV / 1
  • See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves.
  • See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves.
  • Titus Andronicus. Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!
    [Helping her]
    What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?
    This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
    And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape:
    And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.

    Marcus Andronicus. See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves.

46 IV / 1
  • O, why should nature build so foul a den,
    Unless the gods delight in tragedi...
  • O, why should nature build so foul a den,
    Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
  • Titus Andronicus. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl,
    Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
    Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see!
    Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt--
    O, had we never, never hunted there!--
    Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,
    By nature made for murders and for rapes.

    Marcus Andronicus. O, why should nature build so foul a den,
    Unless the gods delight in tragedies?

47 IV / 1
  • Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me.
    Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mer...
  • Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me.
    Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
    Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
    My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia:
    This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst
    This after me, when I have writ my name
    Without the help of any hand at all.
    [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it]
    with feet and mouth]
    Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!
    Write thou good niece; and here display, at last,
    What God will have discover'd for revenge;
    Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
    That we may know the traitors and the truth!
    [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it]
    with her stumps, and writes]
  • Titus Andronicus. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none
    but friends,
    What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:
    Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
    That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?

    Marcus Andronicus. Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me.
    Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
    Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
    My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia:
    This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst
    This after me, when I have writ my name
    Without the help of any hand at all.
    [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it]
    with feet and mouth]
    Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift!
    Write thou good niece; and here display, at last,
    What God will have discover'd for revenge;
    Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
    That we may know the traitors and the truth!
    [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it]
    with her stumps, and writes]

48 IV / 1
  • What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora
    Performers of this heinous, bloody de...
  • What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora
    Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
  • Titus Andronicus. O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ?
    'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.'

    Marcus Andronicus. What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora
    Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?

49 IV / 1
  • O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know
    There is enough written upon this...
  • O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know
    There is enough written upon this earth
    To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
    And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
    My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
    And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
    And swear with me, as, with the woful fere
    And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
    Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,
    That we will prosecute by good advice
    Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
    And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
  • Titus Andronicus. Magni Dominator poli,
    Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?

    Marcus Andronicus. O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know
    There is enough written upon this earth
    To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
    And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
    My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
    And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
    And swear with me, as, with the woful fere
    And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
    Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,
    That we will prosecute by good advice
    Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
    And see their blood, or die with this reproach.

50 IV / 1
  • Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
    For his ungrateful country done...
  • Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
    For his ungrateful country done the like.
  • Young Lucius. I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
    Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
    For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.

    Marcus Andronicus. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
    For his ungrateful country done the like.

51 IV / 1
  • O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
    And not relent, or not compassion...
  • O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
    And not relent, or not compassion him?
    Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
    That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
    Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield;
    But yet so just that he will not revenge.
    Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus!
  • Titus Andronicus. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course.
    Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house:
    Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court:
    Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on.

    Marcus Andronicus. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan,
    And not relent, or not compassion him?
    Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
    That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
    Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield;
    But yet so just that he will not revenge.
    Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus!

52 IV / 3
  • O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
    To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
  • O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
    To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
  • Titus Andronicus. Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way.
    Sir boy, now let me see your archery;
    Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight.
    Terras Astraea reliquit:
    Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled.
    Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall
    Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets;
    Happily you may catch her in the sea;
    Yet there's as little justice as at land:
    No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it;
    'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade,
    And pierce the inmost centre of the earth:
    Then, when you come to Pluto's region,
    I pray you, deliver him this petition;
    Tell him, it is for justice and for aid,
    And that it comes from old Andronicus,
    Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.
    Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable
    What time I threw the people's suffrages
    On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me.
    Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all,
    And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd:
    This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence;
    And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.

    Marcus Andronicus. O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
    To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

53 IV / 3
  • Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
    Join with the Goths; and with revengef...
  • Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
    Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
    Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
    And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
  • Publius. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns
    By day and night to attend him carefully,
    And feed his humour kindly as we may,
    Till time beget some careful remedy.

    Marcus Andronicus. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
    Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
    Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
    And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.

54 IV / 3
  • Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
    We will afflict the emperor i...
  • Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
    We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
  • Titus Andronicus. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
    I'll dive into the burning lake below,
    And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
    Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we
    No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size;
    But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
    Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:
    And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell,
    We will solicit heaven and move the gods
    To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.
    Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;
    [He gives them the arrows]
    'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:'
    'Ad Martem,' that's for myself:
    Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:
    To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;
    You were as good to shoot against the wind.
    To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
    Of my word, I have written to effect;
    There's not a god left unsolicited.

    Marcus Andronicus. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
    We will afflict the emperor in his pride.

55 IV / 3
  • My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
    Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
  • My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
    Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
  • Titus Andronicus. Now, masters, draw.
    [They shoot]
    O, well said, Lucius!
    Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas.

    Marcus Andronicus. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
    Your letter is with Jupiter by this.

56 IV / 3
  • This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
    The Bull, being gall'd, gave...
  • This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
    The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock
    That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court;
    And who should find them but the empress' villain?
    She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose
    But give them to his master for a present.
  • Titus Andronicus. Ha, ha!
    Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
    See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns.

    Marcus Andronicus. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
    The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock
    That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court;
    And who should find them but the empress' villain?
    She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose
    But give them to his master for a present.

57 IV / 3
  • Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for
    your oration; and let him de...
  • Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for
    your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to
    the emperor from you.
  • Clown. From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God
    forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my
    young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the
    tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl
    betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

    Marcus Andronicus. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for
    your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to
    the emperor from you.

58 V / 2
  • This will I do, and soon return again.
  • This will I do, and soon return again.
  • Titus Andronicus. Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls.
    [Enter MARCUS]
    Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;
    Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths:
    Bid him repair to me, and bring with him
    Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;
    Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are:
    Tell him the emperor and the empress too
    Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them.
    This do thou for my love; and so let him,
    As he regards his aged father's life.

    Marcus Andronicus. This will I do, and soon return again.

59 V / 3
  • Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;
    These quarrels must be quietly...
  • Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;
    These quarrels must be quietly debated.
    The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
    Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
    For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
    Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.
  • Lucius. What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?

    Marcus Andronicus. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;
    These quarrels must be quietly debated.
    The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
    Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
    For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
    Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.

60 V / 3
  • You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome,
    By uproar sever'd, like a flight...
  • You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome,
    By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl
    Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
    O, let me teach you how to knit again
    This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
    These broken limbs again into one body;
    Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,
    And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to,
    Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,
    Do shameful execution on herself.
    But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
    Grave witnesses of true experience,
    Cannot induce you to attend my words,
    [To LUCIUS]
    Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor,
    When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
    To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear
    The story of that baleful burning night
    When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy,
    Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
    Or who hath brought the fatal engine in
    That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
    My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;
    Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
    But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
    And break my utterance, even in the time
    When it should move you to attend me most,
    Lending your kind commiseration.
    Here is a captain, let him tell the tale;
    Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
  • Lucius. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?
    There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed!
    [Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, MARCUS,]
    and others go up into the balcony]

    Marcus Andronicus. You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome,
    By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl
    Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
    O, let me teach you how to knit again
    This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
    These broken limbs again into one body;
    Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,
    And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to,
    Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,
    Do shameful execution on herself.
    But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
    Grave witnesses of true experience,
    Cannot induce you to attend my words,
    [To LUCIUS]
    Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor,
    When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
    To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear
    The story of that baleful burning night
    When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy,
    Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
    Or who hath brought the fatal engine in
    That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
    My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;
    Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
    But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
    And break my utterance, even in the time
    When it should move you to attend me most,
    Lending your kind commiseration.
    Here is a captain, let him tell the tale;
    Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.

61 V / 3
  • Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child:
    [Pointing to the Child in the ar...
  • Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child:
    [Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant]
    Of this was Tamora delivered;
    The issue of an irreligious Moor,
    Chief architect and plotter of these woes:
    The villain is alive in Titus' house,
    And as he is, to witness this is true.
    Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
    These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
    Or more than any living man could bear.
    Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans?
    Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein,
    And, from the place where you behold us now,
    The poor remainder of Andronici
    Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down.
    And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
    And make a mutual closure of our house.
    Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall,
    Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
  • Lucius. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,
    That cursed Chiron and Demetrius
    Were they that murdered our emperor's brother;
    And they it were that ravished our sister:
    For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded;
    Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd
    Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out,
    And sent her enemies unto the grave.
    Lastly, myself unkindly banished,
    The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
    To beg relief among Rome's enemies:
    Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears.
    And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend.
    I am the turned forth, be it known to you,
    That have preserved her welfare in my blood;
    And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
    Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body.
    Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I;
    My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
    That my report is just and full of truth.
    But, soft! methinks I do digress too much,
    Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me;
    For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.

    Marcus Andronicus. Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child:
    [Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant]
    Of this was Tamora delivered;
    The issue of an irreligious Moor,
    Chief architect and plotter of these woes:
    The villain is alive in Titus' house,
    And as he is, to witness this is true.
    Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
    These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
    Or more than any living man could bear.
    Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans?
    Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein,
    And, from the place where you behold us now,
    The poor remainder of Andronici
    Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down.
    And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
    And make a mutual closure of our house.
    Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall,
    Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

62 V / 3
  • Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
    [To Attendants]
    And hither hale...
  • Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
    [To Attendants]
    And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
    To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,
    As punishment for his most wicked life.
  • All. Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal emperor!

    Marcus Andronicus. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
    [To Attendants]
    And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
    To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,
    As punishment for his most wicked life.

63 V / 3
  • Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
    Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy l...
  • Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
    Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
    O were the sum of these that I should pay
    Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!
  • Lucius. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so,
    To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe!
    But, gentle people, give me aim awhile,
    For nature puts me to a heavy task:
    Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near,
    To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.
    O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
    [Kissing TITUS]
    These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,
    The last true duties of thy noble son!

    Marcus Andronicus. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
    Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
    O were the sum of these that I should pay
    Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!

© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.

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© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.