The Same. Before the Palace. | |
| |
Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, Lords, and Others: SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot. | |
| Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was ever seen | |
| An emperor of Rome thus overborne, | 4 |
| Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent | |
| Of egal justice, us’d in such contempt? | |
| My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,— | |
| However these disturbers of our peace | 8 |
| Buzz in the people’s ears,—there nought hath pass’d, | |
| But even with law, against the wilful sons | |
| Of old Andronicus. And what an if | |
| His sorrows have so overwhelm’d his wits, | 12 |
| Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, | |
| His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? | |
| And now he writes to heaven for his redress: | |
| See, here’s to Jove, and this to Mercury; | 16 |
| This to Apollo; this to the god of war; | |
| Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! | |
| What’s this but libelling against the senate, | |
| And blazoning our injustice every where? | 20 |
| A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? | |
| As who would say, in Rome no justice were. | |
| But if I live, his feigned ecstasies | |
| Shall be no shelter to these outrages; | 24 |
| But he and his shall know that justice lives | |
| In Saturninus’ health; whom, if she sleep, | |
| He’ll so awake, as she in fury shall | |
| Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives. | 28 |
| Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, | |
| Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, | |
| Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus’ age, | |
| The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, | 32 |
| Whose loss hath pierc’d him deep and scarr’d his heart; | |
| And rather comfort his distressed plight | |
| Than prosecute the meanest or the best | |
| For these contempts.—[Aside.] Why, thus it shall become | 36 |
| High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: | |
| But, Titus, I have touch’d thee to the quick, | |
| Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, | |
| Then is all safe, the anchor’s in the port. | 40 |
| |
Enter Clown. | |
| How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us? | |
| Clo. Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. | |
| Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. | 44 |
| Clo. ’Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den. | |
| I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [SATURNINUS reads the letter. | |
| Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. | |
| Clo. How much money must I have? | 48 |
| Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. | |
| Clo. Hanged! By ’r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded. | |
| Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! | |
| Shall I endure this monstrous villany? | 52 |
| I know from whence this same device proceeds: | |
| May this be borne? As if his traitorous sons, | |
| That died by law for murder of our brother, | |
| Have by my means been butcher’d wrongfully! | 56 |
| Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; | |
| Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege. | |
| For this proud mock I’ll be thy slaughterman; | |
| Sly frantic wretch, that holp’st to make me great, | 60 |
| In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. | |
| |
Enter ÆMILIUS. | |
| What news with thee, Æmilius? | |
| Æmil. Arm, arm, my lord! Rome never had more cause. | 64 |
| The Goths have gather’d head, and with a power | |
| Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, | |
| They hither march amain, under conduct | |
| Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; | 68 |
| Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do | |
| As much as ever Coriolanus did. | |
| Sat. Is war-like Lucius general of the Goths? | |
| These tidings nip me, and I hang the head | 72 |
| As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms. | |
| Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: | |
| ’Tis he the common people love so much; | |
| Myself hath often heard them say, | 76 |
| When I have walked like a private man, | |
| That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully, | |
| And they have wish’d that Lucius were their emperor. | |
| Tam. Why should you fear? is not your city strong? | 80 |
| Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, | |
| And will revolt from me to succour him. | |
| Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. | |
| Is the sun dimm’d, that gnats do fly in it? | 84 |
| The eagle suffers little birds to sing, | |
| And is not careful what they mean thereby, | |
| Knowing that with the shadow of his wings | |
| He can at pleasure stint their melody; | 88 |
| Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. | |
| Then cheer thy spirit; for know, thou emperor, | |
| I will enchant the old Andronicus | |
| With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, | 92 |
| Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, | |
| Whenas the one is wounded with the bait, | |
| The other rotted with delicious feed. | |
| Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. | 96 |
| Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will: | |
| For I can smooth and fill his aged ear | |
| With golden promises, that, were his heart | |
| Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, | 100 |
| Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. | |
| [To ÆMILIUS.] Go thou before, be our ambassador: | |
| Say that the emperor requests a parley | |
| Of war-like Lucius, and appoint the meeting, | 104 |
| Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus. | |
| Sat. Æmilius, do this message honourably: | |
| And if he stand on hostage for his safety, | |
| Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. | 108 |
| Æmil. Your bidding shall I do effectually. [Exit. | |
| Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus, | |
| And temper him with all the art I have, | |
| To pluck proud Lucius from the war-like Goths. | 112 |
| And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, | |
| And bury all thy fear in my devices. | |
| Sat. Then go successantly, and plead to him. [Exeunt. | |