Tit. Do me fome fervice, ere I come to thee:
Lo by thy fide where Rape and Murder ftand;
Now give fome 'furance that thou art Revenge,
Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels,
And then I'll come and be thy waggoner,
And whirl along with thee about the globes:
Provide two proper palfries black as jet,
To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away,
And find out murders in their guilty caves.
And when thy car is loaden with their heads,
I will difmount, and by thy waggon wheel
Trot like a fervile foot-man all day long;
Even from Hyperion's rifing in the east,
Until his very downfal in the fea.
And day by day I'll do this heavy task,
So thou deftroy Rapine and Murder there.
Tam. Thefe are my minifters, and come with me. Tit. Are they thy minifters? what are they call'd? Tam. Rapine and murder; therefore called fo, 'Cause they take vengeance on fuch kind of men. Tit. Good Lord, how like the Emprefs' fons they are, And you the Emprefs! but we worldly men Have miferable mad miftaking eyes:
O fweet Revenge, now do I come to thee,
And if one arm's embracement will content thee,
I will embrace thee in it by and by. [Exit Titus from above.
Tam. This clofing with him fits his lunacy.
Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-fick fits,
Do you uphold, and maintain in your speech,
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;
And being credulous in this mad thought,
I'll make him fend for Lucius his fon :
And whilft I at a banquet hold him sure,
I'll find some cunning practice out of hand,
To scatter and difperfe the giddy Goths,
Or at leaft make them his enemies:
See here he comes, and I muft ply my theme.
SCENE IV. Enter Titus.
Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:
Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house;
Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too :
How like the Emprefs and her fons you are!
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor;
Could not all hell afford you fuch a devil:
For well I wot, the Empress never wags,
But in her company there is a Moor;
And would you reprefent our Queen aright,
It were convenient you had fuch a devil:
But welcome, as you are: what fhall we do?
Tam. What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?
Dem. Shew me a murderer, I'll deal with him.
Chi. Shew me a villain that hath done a rape,
And I am fent to be reveng'd on him.
Tam. Shew me a thousand that have done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all.
Tit. Look round about the wicked streets of Rome,
And when thou find'st a man that's like thy felf,
Good Murder, ftab him; he's a murderer.
Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap
To find another that is like to thee,
Good Rapine, ftab him; he's a ravisher.
Go thou with them, and in the Emperor's Court
There is a Queen attended by a Moor;
Well may'st thou know her by thy own proportion,
For up and down fhe doth refemble thee;
pray thee do on them fome violent death;
They have been violent to me and mine.
Tam. Well haft thou leffon'd us; this fhall we do,
But would it pleafe thee, good Andronicus,
To fend for Lucius thy thrice-valiant fon,
Who leads tow'rds Rome a band of warlike Goths,
And bid him come and banquet at thy house.
When he is here, even at thy folemn feaft,
I will bring in the Empress and her fons,
The Emperor himself, and all thy foes;
And at thy mercy fhall they ftoop and kneel,
And on them fhalt thou eafe thy angry heart:
What fays Andronicus to this device?
Tit. Marcus, my brother! 'tis fad Titus calls:
Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius;
Thou shalt enquire him out among the Goths;
Bid him repair to me; and bring with him
Some of the chiefett princes of the Goths;
Bid him encamp his foldiers where they are;
Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too
Feaft at my houfe, and he fhall feast with them;
This do thou for my love, and fo let him,
As he regards his aged father's life.
Mar. This will I do, and foon return again.
Tam. Now will I hence about thy business,
And take my minifters along with me.
Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or elfe I'll call my brother back again,
And cleave to no Revenge but Lucius.
Tam. What fay you, boys, will you abide with him, Whiles I go tell my Lord, the Emperor,
How I have govern'd our determin'd jeft?
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, [Afide.
And tarry with him 'till I come again.
Tit. I know them all, tho' they fuppofe me mad;
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices:
A pair of curfed hell-hounds and their dam.
[Afide.
Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here.
Tam. Farewel, Andronicus, Revenge now goes
To lay a complot to betray thy foes.
[Exit Tamora. Tit. I know thou doft; and, fweet Revenge, farewel! Chi. Tell us, old man, how fhall we be employ'd? Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius and Valentine!
Enter Publius and Servants.
Pub. What is your will?
Tit. Know ye these two?
Pub. The Emprefs' fons
I take them, Chiron, and Demetrius.
Tit. Fie, Publius, fie, thou art too much deceiv'd, The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name;
And therefore bind them, gentle Publius,
Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them ;
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,
And now I find it, therefore bind them fure. [Exit Titus. Chi. Villains, forbear, we are the Emprefs' fons.
Pub. And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths; let them not speak a word. Is he fure bound? look that ye bind them fast.
Enter Titus Andronicus with a Knife, and Lavinia
with a Bafon.
Tit. Come, come, Lavinia, look, thy foes are bound¡
Sirs, ftop their mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful words I utter.
Oh villains, Chiron and Demetrius !
Here ftands the spring whom you have ftain'd with mud,
This goodly fummer with your winter mixt:
You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death,
My hand cut off, and made a merry jest ;
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains!-for fhame you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you."
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilft that Lavinia 'twixt her stumps doth hold
The bafon that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me,
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad
Hark, villains, I will grind your bones to duft,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste,
And of the paste a coffin will I rear,
And make two pasties of your shameful heads,
And bid that ftrumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
Like to the earth, fwallow her own increase,
This is the feaft that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet fhe shall furfeit on ;
For worfe than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd.
And now prepare your throats: Lavinia, come,
Receive the blood; and when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that pafte let their vile heads be bak'd. ·
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this banquet, which I wish might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs feast.
[He cuts their throats. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And fee them ready 'gainft their mother comes. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner. Luc. Good uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Goth. And ours with thine, befal what fortune will. Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moer, This ravenous tiger, this accurfed devil, Let him receive no fuftenance, fetter him, 'Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror's face, For teftimony of thefe foul proceedings; And fee the ambush of our friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some devil whifper curfes in my ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my fwelling heart! Luc. Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd flave! [Exeunt Goths with Aaron, Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Flourish. The trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.
Sat. What, hath the firmament more funs than one?
Luc. What boots it thee to call thyself a fun?"
Mar. Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break your parley;
Thefe quarrels must be quietly debated:
The feaft is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
Pleafe you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
Sat, Marcus. we will,
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