William Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus in the complete original text.
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Titus Andronicus

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Act IV. Scene I.

Act IV. Scene I.—Rome. TITUS' Garden.

Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Then enter
young LUCIUS, LAVINIA running after him.

Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia
Follows me everywhere, I know not why:
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes:
Alas! sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine
aunt.
Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee
harm.
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she
did.
Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these
signs?
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth
she mean.
See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee;
Somewhither would she have thee go with her.
Ah! boy; Cornelia never with more care
Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee
Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.
Mar. Canst thou not guess wherefore she
plies thee thus?
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her;
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad through sorrow; that made me to fear,
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth;
Which made me down to throw my books and
fly,
Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt;
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
Mar. Lucius, I will.
[LAVINIA turns over the books which
LUCIUSs had let fall.
Tit. How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means
this?
Some book there is that she desires to see.
Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy.
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd;
Come, and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens
Reveal the damn'd contriver of tins deed.
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?
Mar. I think she means that there was more
than one
Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was;
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses;
My mother gave it me.
Mar. For love of her that's gone,
Perhaps, she cull'd it from among the rest.
Tit. Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves!
[Helping her.
What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read?
This is the tragic tale of Philomel,
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape;
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy.
Mar. See, brother, see! note how she quotes
the leaves.
Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet
girl,
Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was,
Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?
See,see!
Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,—
O! had we never, never hunted there,—
Pattern'd by that the poet here describes,
By nature made for murders and for rapes.
Mar. O! why should nature build so foul a den,
Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none
but friends,
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed:
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst,
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed?
Mar. Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down
by me.
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury,
Inspire me, that I may this treason find!
My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia:
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst,
This after me.
[He writes his name wuith his staff, and
guides it with his feet and mouth.
I have writ my name
Without the help of any hand at all.
Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift!
Write thou, good niece, and here display at last
What God will have discover'd for revenge.
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain,
That we may know the traitors and the truth!
[She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides
it with her stumps, and writes.
Tit. O! do you read, my lord, what she hath
writ?
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.
Mar. What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora
Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
Tit. Magni dominator poli,
Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Mar. O! calm thee, gentle lord; although I
know
There is enough written upon this earth
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims.
My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel;
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope;
And swear with me, as, with the woeful fere
And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame,
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,
That we will prosecute by good advice
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths,
And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how;
But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware:
The dam will wake, an if she wind you once:
She's with the lion deeply still in league,
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back,
And when he sleeps will she do what she list.
You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone;
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by: the angry northern wind
Will blow these sands like Sibyl's leaves abroad,
And where's your lesson then? Boy, what say
you?
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.
Mar. Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full
oft
For his ungrateful country done the like.
Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury:
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal my boy
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons
Presents that I intend to send them both:
Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou
not?
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms,
grandsire.
Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another
course.
Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house;
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court:
Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on.
[Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Boy.
Mar. O heavens! can you hear a good man
groan,
And not relent or not compassion him?
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy,
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield;
But yet so just that he will not revenge.
Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! [Exit.
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