The Lamentable Tragedie of Titus Andronicus.Or wanting strength to doe thee so much good,
[940]
I may be pluckt into the swallowing wombe,Of this deepe pit, poore
Bassianus
graue:
I haue no strength to plucke thee to the brinke.Martius.
Nor I no strength to clime without thy help.
Quin.Thy hand once more, I will not loose againe,
[945]
Till thou art heere aloft, or I below,Thou can'st not come to me, I come to thee.Both fall in.Enter the Emperour, Aaron
the Moore.
Satur.Along with me, Ile see what hole is heere,And what he is that now is leapt into it.Say, who art thou that lately did'st descend,
[950]
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?Marti.The vnhappie sonne of old
Andronicus,
Brought hither in a most vnluckie houre,To finde thy brother
Bassianus
dead.
Satur.My brother dead? I know thou dost but iest,
[955]
He and his Lady both are at the Lodge,Vpon the North‑side of this pleasant Chase,'Tis not an houre since I left him there.Marti.We know not where you left him all aliue,But out alas, heere haue we found him dead.Enter Tamora, Andronicus,
and Lucius.
Tamo.
[960]
Where is my Lord the King?
King.
Heere
Tamora, though grieu'd with
killing griefe.
Tam.
Where is thy brother
Bassianus?
King.Now to the bottome dost thou search my wound,Poore
Bassianus heere lies murthered.
Tam.
[965]
Then all too late I bring this fatall writ,The complot of this timelesse Tragedie,And wonder greatly that mans face can fold,In pleasing smiles such murderous Tyrannie.She giueth Saturnine
a Letter.
Saturninus reads the Letter.
And if we misse to meete him hansomely,
[970]
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we meane,Doe thou so much as dig the graue for him,Thou know'st our meaning, looke for
thy reward
Among the Nettles at the Elder tree:Which ouer‑shades the mouth of that same
pit:
[975]
Where we decreed to bury BassianussDoe this and purchase vs thy lasting
friends.
King.Oh
Tamora, was euer heard the like?
This is the pit, and this the Elder tree,Looke sirs, if you can finde the huntsman out,
[980]
That should haue murthered
Bassianus
heere.
Aron.
My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold.
King.Two of thy whelpes, fell Curs of bloody kindHaue heere bereft my brother of his life:Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prison,
[985]
There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'dSome neuer heard‑of tortering paine for them.Tamo.What are they in this pit,Oh wondrous thing!How easily murder is discouered?Tit.
[990]
High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee,I beg this boone, with teares, not lightly shed,That this fell fault of my accursed Sonnes,Accursed, if the faults be prou'd in them.King.If it be prou'd? you see it is apparant,
Tit.I did my Lord,Yet let me be their baile,For by my Fathers reuerent Tombe I vow
[1000]
They shall be ready at your Highnes will,To answere their suspition with their liues.King.Thou shalt not baile them, see thou follow me:Some bring the murthered body, some the murtherers,Let them not speake a word, the guilt is plaine,
[1005]
For by my soule, were there worse end then death,That end vpon them should be executed.Tamo.Andronicus I will entreat the King,
Feare not thy Sonnes, they shall do well enough.Tit.Come Lucius come,
[1010]
Stay not to talke with them.Exeunt.
[Act 2, Scene 4]
Enter the Empresse Sonnes,
with Lauinia, her hands cut off and
her tongue cut out,
and rauisht.
Deme.So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake,Who t'was that cut thy tongue and rauisht thee.Chi.Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,And if thy stumpes will let thee play the Scribe.Dem.
[1015]
See how with signes and tokens she can scowle.
Chi.Goe home,Call for sweet water, wash thy hands.Dem.She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash.And so let's leaue her to her silent walkes.Chi.
[1020]
And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe.
Dem.
If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the
cord.
Exeunt.Winde Hornes.
Enter
Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia.
Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast?Cosen a word, where is your husband?If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;
[1025]
If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe,That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle handsHath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bareOf her two branches, those sweet Ornaments
[1030]
Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep inAnd might not gaine so great a happinesAs halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me?Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood,Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde,
[1035]
Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips,Comming and going with thy hony breath.But sure some
Tereus hath defloured
thee,
And least thou should'st detect them, cut
thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame:
[1040]
And notwithstanding all this losse of blood,As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts,Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as
Titans
face,
Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so?
[1045]
Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beastThat I might raile at him to ease my mind.Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt,Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is.Faire
Philomela she but lost her
tongue,
[1050]
And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde.But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee,A craftier
Tereus hast thou met
withall,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,dd2That
[Act 2, Scene 4]
Enter the Empresse Sonnes,
with Lauinia, her hands cut off and
her tongue cut out,
and rauisht.
Deme.So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake,Who t'was that cut thy tongue and rauisht thee.Chi.Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,And if thy stumpes will let thee play the Scribe.Dem.
[1015]
See how with signes and tokens she can scowle.
Chi.Goe home,Call for sweet water, wash thy hands.Dem.She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash.And so let's leaue her to her silent walkes.Chi.
[1020]
And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe.
Dem.
If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the
cord.
Exeunt.Winde Hornes.
Enter
Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia.
Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast?Cosen a word, where is your husband?If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;
[1025]
If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe,That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle handsHath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bareOf her two branches, those sweet Ornaments
[1030]
Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep inAnd might not gaine so great a happinesAs halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me?Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood,Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde,
[1035]
Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips,Comming and going with thy hony breath.But sure some
Tereus hath defloured
thee,
And least thou should'st detect them, cut
thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame:
[1040]
And notwithstanding all this losse of blood,As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts,Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as
Titans
face,
Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so?
[1045]
Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beastThat I might raile at him to ease my mind.Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt,Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is.Faire
Philomela she but lost her
tongue,
[1050]
And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde.But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee,A craftier
Tereus hast thou met
withall,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,That could haue better sowed then
Philomel.
[1055]
Oh had the monster seene those Lilly hands,Tremble like Aspen leaues vpon a Lute,And make the silken strings delight to kisse them,He would not then haue toucht them for his life.Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony,
[1060]
Which that sweet tongue hath made:He would haue dropt his knife and fell asleepe,As
Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feete.
Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde,For such a sight will blinde a fathers eye.
[1065]
One houres storme will drowne the fragrant meades,What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes?Doe not draw backe, for we will mourne with thee:Oh could our mourning ease thy misery.Exeunt
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<div type="scene" n="4" rend="notPresent">
<head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 4]</head>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter the Empresse Sonnes, with Lauinia, her hands cut off and
<lb/>her tongue cut out, and rauisht.</stage>
<sp who="#F-tit-dem">
<speaker rend="italic">Deme.</speaker>
<l n="1011">So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake,</l>
<l n="1012">Who t'was that cut thy tongue and rauisht thee.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-chi">
<speaker rend="italic">Chi.</speaker>
<l n="1013">Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,</l>
<l n="1014">And if thy stumpes will let thee play the Scribe.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-dem">
<speaker rend="italic">Dem.</speaker>
<p n="1015">See how with signes and tokens she can scowle.</p>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-chi">
<speaker rend="italic">Chi.</speaker>
<l n="1016">Goe home,</l>
<l n="1017">Call for sweet water, wash thy hands.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-dem">
<speaker rend="italic">Dem.</speaker>
<l n="1018">She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash.</l>
<l n="1019">And so let's leaue her to her silent walkes.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-chi">
<speaker rend="italic">Chi.</speaker>
<p n="1020">And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe.</p>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-tit-dem">
<speaker rend="italic">Dem.</speaker>
<p n="1021">If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the cord.</p>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Winde Hornes.
<lb/>Enter Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia.</stage>
<l n="1022">Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast?</l>
<l n="1023">Cosen a word, where is your husband?</l>
<l n="1024">If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;</l>
<l n="1025">If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe,</l>
<l n="1026">That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.</l>
<l n="1027">Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands</l>
<l n="1028">Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare</l>
<l n="1029">Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments</l>
<l n="1030">Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in</l>
<l n="1031">And might not gaine so great a happines</l>
<l n="1032">As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me?</l>
<l n="1033">Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood,</l>
<l n="1034">Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde,</l>
<l n="1035">Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips,</l>
<l n="1036">Comming and going with thy hony breath.</l>
<l n="1037">But sure some<hi rend="italic">Tereus</hi>hath defloured thee,</l>
<l n="1038">And least thou should'st detect them, cut thy tongue.</l>
<l n="1039">Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame:</l>
<l n="1040">And notwithstanding all this losse of blood,</l>
<l n="1041">As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts,</l>
<l n="1042">Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as<hi rend="italic">Titans</hi>face,</l>
<l n="1043">Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,</l>
<l n="1044">Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so?</l>
<l n="1045">Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beast</l>
<l n="1046">That I might raile at him to ease my mind.</l>
<l n="1047">Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt,</l>
<l n="1048">Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is.</l>
<l n="1049">Faire<hi rend="italic">Philomela</hi>she but lost her tongue,</l>
<l n="1050">And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde.</l>
<l n="1051">But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee,</l>
<l n="1052">A craftier<hi rend="italic">Tereus</hi>hast thou met withall,</l>
<l n="1053">And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,</l>
<pb facs="FFimg:axc0658-0.jpg" n="40"/>
<cb n="1"/>
<l n="1054">That could haue better sowed then<hi rend="italic">Philomel</hi>.</l>
<l n="1055">Oh had the monster seene those Lilly hands,</l>
<l n="1056">Tremble like Aspen leaues vpon a Lute,</l>
<l n="1057">And make the silken strings delight to kisse them,</l>
<l n="1058">He would not then haue toucht them for his life.</l>
<l n="1059">Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony,</l>
<l n="1060">Which that sweet tongue hath made:</l>
<l n="1061">He would haue dropt his knife and fell asleepe,</l>
<l n="1062">As<hi rend="italic">Cerberus</hi>at the Thracian Poets feete.</l>
<l n="1063">Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde,</l>
<l n="1064">For such a sight will blinde a fathers eye.</l>
<l n="1065">One houres storme will drowne the fragrant meades,</l>
<l n="1066">What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes?</l>
<l n="1067">Doe not draw backe, for we will mourne with thee:</l>
<l n="1068">Oh could our mourning ease thy misery.</l>
<stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt</stage>
<cb n="1"/>
</div>
