• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

An emperor in Rome thus overborne,

Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent

Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt?

My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,

However these disturbers of our peace

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,

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 unjustice 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 he in fury shall

Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.

TAMORA.

My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine,

Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts,

Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age,

Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons

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

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 in the port.

Enter CLOWN

How now, good fellow! Wouldst thou speak with us?

CLOWN.

Yes, forsooth, an your mistriship be Emperial.

TAMORA.

Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.

CLOWN.

'Tis he.- God and Saint Stephen give you godden. I have

brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.

[SATURNINUS reads the letter]

SATURNINUS.

Go take him away, and hang him presently.

CLOWN.

How much money must I have?

TAMORA.

Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd.

CLOWN.

Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair

end. [Exit guarded]

SATURNINUS.

Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!

Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?

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 butchered 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.

Enter NUNTIUS AEMILIUS

What news with thee, Aemilius?

AEMILIUS.

Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause.

The Goths have gathered 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;

Who threats in course of this revenge to do

As much as ever Coriolanus did.

SATURNINUS.

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 begins our sorrows to approach.

'Tis he the common people love so much;

Myself hath often 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.

TAMORA.

Why should you fear? Is not your city strong?

SATURNINUS.

Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,

And will revolt from me to succour him.

TAMORA.

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 mayest 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