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Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen An emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent Of egal justice, used in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buz in the people’s ears, there nought hath pass’d, But even with law, against the willful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm’d his wits, 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; 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? 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: 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.
Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was it ever seen That an emperor in Rome could be so overpowered, Troubled, confronted like this; and, in the name Of equal justice, treated with such disrespect? My lords, you know, as do the powerful gods, No matter how these troublemakers Whisper in the people’s ears, nothing has happened, But all according to the law, against the rebellious sons Of old Andronicus. And what if His grief has made him lose his mind? Should we be punished for his revenge, His outbursts, his madness, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for justice: See, here’s one for Jove, one for Mercury; One for Apollo; one for the god of war; Sweet letters flying all around the streets of Rome! What is this but slander against the senate, And spreading our injustice everywhere? A fine situation, isn’t it, my lords? As if to say, there’s no justice in Rome. But if I live, his fake fits Will not shield these wrongs: He and his family will know that justice exists In Saturninus’ rule, and if justice sleeps, It will wake with such fury that it will Cut off the proudest conspirator alive.
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, Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr’d his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts.
My gracious lord, my beautiful Saturnine, Lord of my life, ruler of my thoughts, Calm yourself, and bear with the faults of Titus’ old age, The effects of sorrow for his brave sons, Whose loss has deeply wounded him and scarred his heart; And instead of punishing him or anyone else For these insults, show him comfort.
Why, thus it shall become High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor’s in the port.
Why, this is how it should be For clever Tamora to flatter everyone: But, Titus, I have struck you at your core, Your very life-blood: if Aaron is smart now, Then everything is safe, the ship has docked.
How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us?
How’s it going, good man! Do you need to speak with us?
Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.
Yes, truly, if your lordship is an emperor.
Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.
I’m the empress, but the emperor sits over there.
’Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den: I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.
It’s him. God and Saint Stephen give you a good day: I’ve brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.
Go, take him away, and hang him presently.
Go, take him away, and hang him right now.
How much money must I have?
How much money do I need?
Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.
Come on, you must be hanged.
Hanged! by’r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.
Hanged! Well, if that’s the case, I’ve got a neck ready for a nice clean finish.
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villany? 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! 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, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.
These are hateful and unbearable wrongs! Should I stand for this awful crime? I know where this scheme comes from: Can this really be happening?--as if his traitorous sons, Who were legally executed for murdering our brother, Were wrongfully slaughtered by my actions! Go, drag the villain here by his hair; Neither age nor honor will give him any special treatment: For this arrogant mockery, I’ll be the one to kill you; Sneaky, mad fool, who helped make me powerful, Thinking that you’d rule Rome and me.
What news with thee, AEmilius?
What news, Aemilius?
Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gather’d head; and with a power high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, They hither march amain, under conduct Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do As much as ever Coriolanus did.
Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome has never had more reason. The Goths have gathered strength, and with a powerful force of determined men, set on plunder, They’re marching here quickly, led by Lucius, the son of old Andronicus; Who threatens, in his revenge, to do as much as Coriolanus did before.
Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head 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 over-heard them say, When I have walked like a private man, That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully, And they have wish’d that Lucius were their emperor.
Is the warlike Lucius leading the Goths? This news stings, and I hang my head Like flowers struck by frost or grass beaten by storms: Yes, now our troubles are beginning to come: It’s him the common people love so much; I’ve often overheard them say, When I’ve walked around like a regular man, That Lucius’ banishment was unfair, And they’ve wished that Lucius were their emperor.
Why should you fear? is not your city strong?
Why are you worried? Isn’t your city strong?
Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius, And will revolt from me to succor him.
Yes, but the citizens support Lucius, And they’ll rebel against me to help him.
King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. Is the sun dimm’d, that gnats do fly in it? 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: 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, Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, When as the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed.
King, be bold in your thoughts, like your name. Is the sun dimmed, just because little insects fly in it? The eagle lets the small birds sing, And doesn’t care what they mean by it, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can easily stop their song: In the same way, you can control the foolish people of Rome. So lift your spirits: for know, you emperor, I will charm the old Andronicus With words that are sweeter, and even more dangerous, Than hooks to catch fish, or honey to trap sheep, When one is hurt by the hook, and the other is spoiled by too much sweetness.
But he will not entreat his son for us.
But he won’t beg his son for our sake.
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, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.
If I, Tamora, beg him, then he will: Because I can smooth and fill his old ears With golden promises; and even if his heart Is almost impossible to win over, and his old ears are deaf, Both his ears and heart will still listen to me.
Go thou before, be our ambassador: Say that the emperor requests a parley Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus.
Go ahead, be our messenger: Tell him the emperor wants to negotiate With warlike Lucius, and set up the meeting At his father’s house, the old Andronicus.
AEmilius, do this message honourably: And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
AEmilius, deliver this message with respect: And if he demands a guarantee for his safety, Tell him to ask for whatever security he wants.
Your bidding shall I do effectually.
I will carry out your command effectively.
Now will I to that old Andronicus; And temper him with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices.
Now I’ll go to old Andronicus; And use all my skills, To turn proud Lucius away from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be happy again, And bury all your fears in my plans.
Then go successantly, and plead to him.
Then go, and succeed, and plead with him.