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Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say I am Revenge, sent from below To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his enemies.
In these strange and sorrowful clothes, I’ll face Andronicus, And tell him I am Revenge, sent from hell To join with him and right his terrible wrongs. I’ll knock at his study, where, they say, he stays, To think up wicked plans for cruel revenge; I’ll tell him Revenge has come to join him, And cause chaos for his enemies.
Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect? You are deceived: for what I mean to do See here in bloody lines I have set down; And what is written shall be executed.
Who is disturbing my thoughts? Is this your plan to make me open the door, So that my sorrowful decisions can disappear, And all my efforts come to nothing? You are wrong: because what I intend to do Is written here in these bloody lines; And what is written will be done.
Titus, I am come to talk with thee.
Titus, I’ve come to speak with you.
No, not a word; how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more.
No, not a word; how can I speak properly, Without a hand to give it action? You have the upper hand over me; so no more.
If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me.
If you truly knew me, you’d speak with me.
I am not mad; I know thee well enough: Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines; Witness these trenches made by grief and care, Witness the tiring day and heavy night; Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: Is not thy coming for my other hand?
I’m not crazy; I know you well enough: Look at this miserable stump, look at these red marks; Look at these scars caused by grief and worry, Look at the long days and sleepless nights; Look at all the pain, I know you well For our proud empress, powerful Tamora: Aren’t you here for my other hand?
Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora; She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom, To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. Come down, and welcome me to this world’s light; Confer with me of murder and of death: There’s not a hollow cave or lurking-place, No vast obscurity or misty vale, Where bloody murder or detested rape Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.
Know this, sad man, I am not Tamora; She is your enemy, but I am your friend: I am Revenge: sent from the underworld, To ease the torment in your mind, By bringing ruthless vengeance on your foes. Come down, and welcome me to the light of this world; Let’s talk about murder and death: There’s no dark cave or hidden place, No great emptiness or misty valley, Where bloody murder or hated rape Can hide for fear, but I will find them; And I will tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the guilty tremble.
Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies?
Are you Revenge? And have you come to me, To torment my enemies?
I am; therefore come down, and welcome me.
I am; so come down and welcome me.
Do me some service, ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; Now give me some surance 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 globe. Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves: And when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, Even from Hyperion’s rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea: And day by day I’ll do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.
Do me a favor before I come to you. Look, by your side where Rape and Murder stand; Now show me some proof that you are truly Revenge, Kill them, or tear them apart with your chariot wheels; And then I’ll come and be your driver, And we’ll travel the world together. Get two fine horses, black as coal, To pull your vengeful wagon quickly away, And find murderers in their guilty hiding spots: And when your cart is loaded with their heads, I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel Walk like a servant all day long, From the rising of the sun in the east Until it sets in the sea: And day by day I’ll do this heavy task, So long as you destroy Rape and Murder.
These are my ministers, and come with me.
These are my helpers, and they come with me.
Are these thy ministers? what are they call’d?
Are these your helpers? What are they called?
Rapine and Murder; therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.
Rape and Murder; that’s what they’re called, Because they take vengeance on such men.
Good Lord, how like the empress’ sons they are! And you, the empress! but we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. O sweet 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.
Good Lord, how much they look like the empress’ sons! And you, the empress! But we foolish men Have miserable, blind, and mistaken eyes. O sweet Revenge, now I come to you; And if one embrace will satisfy you, I’ll embrace you in a moment.
This closing with him fits his lunacy Whate’er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits, Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; And, being credulous in this mad thought, I’ll make him send for Lucius his son; And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I’ll find some cunning practise out of hand, To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies. See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.
This agreement with him suits his madness Whatever I create to feed his brain-sick thoughts, You must support and maintain in your speeches, For now he firmly believes I am Revenge; And, trusting in this mad idea, I’ll make him send for Lucius, his son; And while I keep him secure at a banquet, I’ll quickly come up with a clever plan, To scatter and confuse the confused Goths, Or, at the very least, make them his enemies. Look, here he comes, and I must play my part.
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 empress and her sons you are! Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: Could not all hell afford you such a devil? For well I wot the empress never wags But in her company there is a Moor; And, would you represent our queen aright, It were convenient you had such a devil: But welcome, as you are. What shall we do?
I’ve been alone for a long time, and all of it for you: Welcome, terrible Fury, to my sad home: Robbery and Murder, you’re welcome too. You really remind me of the empress and her sons! You’d fit right in, if you had a Moor with you: Couldn’t all of hell provide a devil like you? Because I know that the empress never moves Without a Moor with her; And if you want to play the queen right, It would be fitting if you had such a devil: But welcome, just as you are. What shall we do?
What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?
What do you want us to do, Andronicus?
Show me a murderer, I’ll deal with him.
Show me a murderer, I’ll take care of him.
Show me a villain that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be revenged on him.
Show me a man who’s committed a rape, And I’m here to get revenge on him.
Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all.
Show me a thousand who’ve wronged you, And I’ll take revenge on all of them.
Look round about the wicked streets of Rome; And when thou find’st a man that’s like thyself. Good Murder, stab 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, stab him; he’s a ravisher. Go thou with them; and in the emperor’s court There is a queen, attended by a Moor; Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, for up and down she doth resemble thee: I pray thee, do on them some violent death; They have been violent to me and mine.
Look around the wicked streets of Rome; And when you find a man who’s like you, Good Murder, stab him; he’s a murderer. Go with him; and when it’s your turn To find someone like you, Good Rapine, stab him; he’s a rapist. Go with them; and in the emperor’s court There’s a queen, accompanied by a Moor; You’ll recognize her by how she looks like you, because she’s just like you in every way: I ask you, bring them some violent end; They’ve been violent to me and my family.
Well hast thou lesson’d us; this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house; When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her sons, The emperor himself and all thy foes; And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device?
You’ve taught us well; we’ll do as you say. But would you, good Andronicus, Send for Lucius, your brave son, Who’s leading a band of fierce Goths to Rome, And ask him to come and feast at your house; When he’s here, at your grand feast, I’ll bring in the empress and her sons, The emperor himself, and all your enemies; And at your mercy, they’ll bow and kneel, And you’ll be able to ease your angry heart. What do you think of this plan, Andronicus?
Marcus, my brother! ’tis sad Titus calls.
Marcus, my brother! It’s sad that Titus calls.
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.
Go, kind Marcus, to your nephew Lucius; Look for him among the Goths: Tell him to come to me, and bring with him Some of the most important princes of the Goths; Tell him to camp his soldiers where they are: Tell him the emperor and empress will feast at my house, And he can join them there. Do this for my sake; and let him, As he values his old father’s life.
This will I do, and soon return again.
I’ll do this, and return quickly.
Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me.
Now I’ll go off to handle your business, And take my helpers with me.
Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me; Or else I’ll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.
No, no, let Rape and Murder stay with me; Or else I’ll call my brother back, And only focus on revenge for Lucius.
[Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? will you bide with him, Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor How I have govern’d our determined jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, And tarry with him till I turn again.
[Aside to her sons] What do you say, boys? Will you stay with him, While I go tell my lord the emperor How I’ve managed our planned trick? Agree with him, flatter him, and be nice, And stay with him until I return.
[Aside] I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will o’erreach them in their own devices: A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam!
[Aside] I know them all, though they think I’m crazy, And I’ll trick them with their own plans: A pair of damned monsters and their mother!
Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here.
Madam, leave if you want; stay here with us.
Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes.
Goodbye, Andronicus: Revenge is leaving now To make a plot to betray your enemies.
I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell.
I know you’re doing that; and, sweet Revenge, goodbye.
Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ’d?
Tell us, old man, what should we do now?
Tut, I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine!
Oh, I have enough for you to do. Publius, come here, Caius, and Valentine!
What is your will?
What do you want us to do?
Know you these two?
Do you know these two?
The empress’ sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius.
The empress’ sons, I think—Chiron and Demetrius.
Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived; 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 sure, And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.
Ugh, Publius, ugh! You’re so wrong; One is Murder, the other is Rape; So tie them up, gentle Publius. Caius and Valentine, grab them. You’ve often heard me wish for this moment, And now I’ve got it; so tie them up tightly, And gag them if they start to shout.
Villains, forbear! we are the empress’ sons.
You villains, stop! We’re the empress’ sons.
And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast.
And that’s exactly why we’re doing what we’re told. Close their mouths, don’t let them say a word. Is he really tied up? Make sure you tie them tight.
Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain’d with mud, This goodly summer with your winter mix’d. 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 forced. What would you say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, Whilst that Lavinia ’tween her stumps doth hold The basin 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 dust And with your blood and it I’ll make a paste, And of the paste a coffin I will rear And make two pasties of your shameful heads, And bid that strumpet, your unhallow’d dam, Like to the earth swallow her own increase. This is the feast that I have bid her to, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be revenged: And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come,
Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain’d with mud, This goodly summer with your winter mix’d. 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 forced. What would you say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, Whilst that Lavinia ’tween her stumps doth hold The basin 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 dust And with your blood and it I’ll make a paste, And of the paste a coffin I will rear And make two pasties of your shameful heads, And bid that strumpet, your unhallow’d dam, Like to the earth swallow her own increase. This is the feast that I have bid her to, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be revenged: 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 paste let their vile heads be baked. Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet; which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaurs’ feast. So, now bring them in, for I’ll play the cook, And see them ready ’gainst their mother comes.
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 paste let their vile heads be baked. Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet; which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaurs’ feast. So, now bring them in, for I’ll play the cook, And see them ready ’gainst their mother comes.