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Uncle Marcus, since it is my father’s mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Uncle Marcus, since it is my father’s mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him Till he be brought unto the empress’ face, For testimony of her foul proceedings: And see the ambush of our friends be strong; I fear the emperor means no good to us.
Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him Till he be brought unto the empress’ face, For testimony of her foul proceedings: And see the ambush of our friends be strong; I fear the emperor means no good to us.
Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
Away, inhuman dog! unhallow’d slave! Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
Away, inhuman dog! unhallow’d slave! Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
What, hath the firmament more suns than one?
What, hath the firmament more suns than one?
What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?
What good does it do you to call yourself a sun?
Rome’s emperor, and nephew, break the parle; These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordain’d to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome: Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.
The emperor of Rome, and my nephew, break off the argument; These disagreements must be settled calmly. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Has prepared for an honorable purpose, For peace, for love, for alliances, and for Rome’s well-being: So please, come closer, and take your seats.
Marcus, we will.
Marcus, we will.
Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen; Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, ’Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.
Welcome, my lord; welcome, noble queen; Welcome, you fierce Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome, everyone: although the food is simple, It will fill your stomachs; please, eat.
Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus?
Why are you dressed like this, Andronicus?
Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your empress.
Because I wanted to make sure everything went well, To serve you and your empress properly.
We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.
We are grateful to you, good Andronicus.
An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this: Was it well done of rash Virginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand, Because she was enforced, stain’d, and deflower’d?
If you knew my heart, you would be. My lord the emperor, answer me this: Was it right for the rash Virginius To kill his daughter with his own hand, Because she was violated, dishonored, and defiled?
It was, Andronicus.
Yes, Andronicus.
Your reason, mighty lord?
What was your reasoning, mighty lord?
Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows.
Because the girl should not live with her shame, And her presence would just keep reminding him of his sorrow.
A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, most wretched, to perform the like. Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;
A powerful, strong, and convincing reason; A model, an example, and a clear justification, For me, most miserable, to do the same. Die, die, Lavinia, and let your shame die with you;
And, with thy shame, thy father’s sorrow die!
And with your shame, let your father’s sorrow die!
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?
What have you done, you unnatural and cruel person?
Kill’d her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage: and it now is done.
I killed her, the one for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as sorrowful as Virginius was, And I have a thousand times more reason than he To commit this terrible act: and now it’s done.
What, was she ravish’d? tell who did the deed.
What, was she raped? Tell me who did it.
Will’t please you eat? will’t please your highness feed?
Would you like to eat? Will your highness have some food?
Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?
Why have you killed your only daughter like this?
Not I; ’twas Chiron and Demetrius: They ravish’d her, and cut away her tongue; And they, ’twas they, that did her all this wrong.
Not me; it was Chiron and Demetrius: They raped her, and cut out her tongue; And it was they, it was they, who did all this to her.
Go fetch them hither to us presently.
Go get them here to us right now.
Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. ’Tis true, ’tis true; witness my knife’s sharp point.
Well, there they are, both of them, baked in that pie; Which their mother delicately ate, Eating the flesh she herself gave birth to. It’s true, it’s true; witness the sharp point of my knife.
Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed!
Die, crazy wretch, for this cursed act!
Can the son’s eye behold his father bleed? There’s meed for meed, death for a deadly deed!
Can a son watch his father bleed? There’s payment for payment, death for a deadly deed!
You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, By uproar sever’d, like a flight of fowl Scatter’d by winds and high tempestuous gusts, O, let me teach you how to knit again This scatter’d corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body; Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, And she whom mighty kingdoms court’sy to, Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, Do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, Grave witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words,
You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, Torn apart by uproar, like a flock of birds Scattered by winds and fierce stormy gusts, Oh, let me show you how to come together again This scattered grain into one unified bundle, These broken limbs into one body again; Lest Rome herself destroy herself, And she, whom mighty kingdoms bow to, Like a hopeless and desperate castaway, Do shameful harm to herself. But if my cold signs and weathered age, True witnesses of real experience, Cannot make you listen to my words,
Speak, Rome’s dear friend, as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse To love-sick Dido’s sad attending ear The story of that baleful burning night When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam’s Troy, Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch’d our ears, Or who hath brought the fatal engine in That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, But floods of tears will drown my oratory, And break my utterance, even in the time When it should move you to attend me most, Lending your kind commiseration. Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Speak, dear friend of Rome, as our ancestor did, When with his serious voice he spoke To love-sick Dido’s sad listening ear The story of that deadly burning night When clever Greeks attacked King Priam’s Troy, Tell us what Sinon has charmed our ears with, Or who brought the deadly weapon in That gave our Troy, our Rome, this civil wound. My heart is not made of flint or steel; Nor can I speak all our bitter sorrow, But floods of tears will drown my speech, And break my words, even when I should move you most, To show your kind sympathy. Here is a captain, let him tell the story; Your hearts will ache and weep when you hear him speak.
Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdered our emperor’s brother; And they it were that ravished our sister: For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded; Our father’s tears despised, and basely cozen’d Of that true hand that fought Rome’s quarrel out, And sent her enemies unto the grave. Lastly, myself unkindly banished, The gates shut on me, and turn’d weeping out, To beg relief among Rome’s enemies: Who drown’d their enmity in my true tears. And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend. I am the turned forth, be it known to you, That have preserved her welfare in my blood; And from her bosom took the enemy’s point, Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I; My scars can witness, dumb although they are, That my report is just and full of truth. But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Then, noble audience, let it be known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were the ones who murdered our emperor’s brother; And they were the ones who raped our sister: Because of their wickedness, our brothers were beheaded; Our father’s tears were ignored, and he was cruelly tricked By that true hand that fought for Rome, And sent her enemies to the grave. Lastly, I myself was unfairly banished, The gates shut on me, and I was sent out weeping, To beg help among Rome’s enemies: Who drowned their hatred in my true tears. And opened their arms to embrace me as a friend. I am the one cast out, let it be known to you, Who preserved her safety with my own blood; And from her chest took the enemy’s sword, Sheathing the steel in my courageous body. Alas, you know I’m not one to boast; My scars can testify, though they cannot speak, That my account is honest and full of truth. But wait! I think I’ve gone off track, Praising myself for nothing: Oh, forgive me; For when no friends are around, men praise themselves.
Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child:
Now it’s my turn to speak. Look at this child:
Of this was Tamora delivered; The issue of an irreligious Moor, Chief architect and plotter of these woes: The villain is alive in Titus’ house, And as he is, to witness this is true. Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, Or more than any living man could bear. Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us now, The poor remainder of Andronici Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down. And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, And make a mutual closure of our house. Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
This is the child Tamora gave birth to; The child of a godless Moor, The main instigator of all these miseries: The villain is still alive in Titus’ house, And as he is, this proves it’s true. Now judge what reason Titus had to avenge These wrongs, unspeakable, beyond patience, Or more than any living man could endure. Now you’ve heard the truth, what do you say, Romans? Have we done anything wrong?--show us where, And from the place where you see us now, The poor remains of the Andronici Will, hand in hand, throw ourselves down together. And on the jagged stones bash out our brains, And bring our house to a final close. Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we should, Then, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, Lucius our emperor; for well I know The common voice do cry it shall be so.
Come, come, you respected man of Rome, And bring our emperor gently in your hand, Lucius, our emperor; for I know well The common voice is shouting that it will be so.
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s royal emperor!
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s royal emperor!
Go, go into old Titus’ sorrowful house,
Go, go into old Titus’ sorrowful house,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death, As punishment for his most wicked life.
And bring that unbelieving Moor here, To face the dire punishment of his wicked life, A death most horrible.
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s gracious governor!
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s gracious governor!
Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so, To heal Rome’s harms, and wipe away her woe! But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, For nature puts me to a heavy task: Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
Thanks, kind Romans: may I govern so, To heal Rome’s wounds and wipe away her sorrow! But, gentle people, give me a moment, For nature has given me a heavy task: Stand back: but, uncle, draw near, To shed respectful tears on this lifeless body. Oh, take this warm kiss on your pale cold lips,
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain’d face, The last true duties of thy noble son!
These sorrowful tears on your blood-stained face, The final duties of your noble son!
Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: O were the sum of these that I should pay Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!
Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Your brother Marcus offers on your lips: Oh, if the sum of these were mine to give, Countless and infinite, I would give them all!
Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: Many a time he danced thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow: Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; In that respect, then, like a loving child, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, Because kind nature doth require it so: Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.
Come here, boy; come, come, and learn from us To cry like this: your grandfather loved you dearly: He often danced you on his knee, Sang you to sleep, with his loving chest as your pillow: He’s told you many things, Things that matched your childish understanding; So now, like a loving child, Shed a few small tears from your gentle heart, Because nature requires it: Friends should comfort friends in grief and sorrow: Say goodbye to him; bury him; Do this kindness, and then say your final goodbye.
O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart Would I were dead, so you did live again! O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.
Oh grandfather, grandfather! I wish with all my heart That I were dead, if only you could live again! Oh Lord, I can’t speak to him because I’m crying; My tears will choke me, if I open my mouth.
You sad Andronici, have done with woes: Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events.
You sad Andronici, stop with the sorrow: Give your judgment on this vile man, The one who caused all these terrible events.
Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food; If any one relieves or pities him, For the offence he dies. This is our doom: Some stay to see him fasten’d in the earth.
Bury him up to his chest in earth, and starve him; Let him stand there, screaming and begging for food; If anyone helps or pities him, They will die for it. This is our sentence: Some stay to see him buried in the earth.
O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done: Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did Would I perform, if I might have my will; If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
Oh, why should anger be silent, and rage hold its tongue? I am no child, that I should repent with weak prayers For all the evil I’ve done: I’d do ten thousand worse things than I’ve ever done If I could have my way; If I did one good thing in my whole life, I regret it with all my heart.
Some loving friends convey the emperor hence, And give him burial in his father’s grave: My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our household’s monument. As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weeds, No mournful bell shall ring her burial; But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey: Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity; And, being so, shall have like want of pity. See justice done on Aaron, that damn’d Moor, By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: Then, afterwards, to order well the state, That like events may ne’er it ruinate.
Let some loyal friends take the emperor away, And bury him in his father’s tomb: My father and Lavinia will soon be Placed in our family’s tomb. As for that wicked woman, Tamora, No funeral rites, no one in mourning clothes, No sad bells will toll for her death; She’ll be thrown out for the animals and birds to tear apart: Her life was like an animal’s, heartless and cruel; And, since it was, she’ll get no sympathy. Let justice be done on Aaron, that damned Moor, By whom our terrible troubles began: Then, after that, let’s restore the state, So that such disasters never ruin it again.