| ACT IV SCENE I | Rome. Titus's garden. | |
| | Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him,and the boy flies from her, with books under hisarm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS | |
| Young LUCIUS | Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia | |
| | Follows me every where, I know not why: | |
| | Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. | |
| | Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. | 5 |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. | |
| Young LUCIUS | Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | 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. | 10 |
| | Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care | |
| | Read to her sons than she hath read to thee | |
| | Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? | |
| Young LUCIUS | My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, | 15 |
| | 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; | 20 |
| | 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: | 25 |
| | And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, | |
| | I will most willingly attend your ladyship. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | Lucius, I will. | |
| | LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which LUCIUS has let fall | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this? | |
| | Some book there is that she desires to see. | 30 |
| | 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 this deed. | 35 |
| | Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | 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. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? | 40 |
| Young LUCIUS | Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; | |
| | My mother gave it me. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | For love of her that's gone, | |
| | Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves! | 45 |
| | 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. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. | 50 |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, | |
| | Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, | |
| | Forced 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!-- | 55 |
| | Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, | |
| | By nature made for murders and for rapes. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | O, why should nature build so foul a den, | |
| | Unless the gods delight in tragedies? | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none | 60 |
| | 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? | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me. | 65 |
| | 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, when I have writ my name | 70 |
| | Without the help of any hand at all. | |
| | He writes his name with his staff, and guides itwith feet and mouth | |
| | Cursed be that heart that forced 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, | 75 |
| | That we may know the traitors and the truth! | |
| | She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides itwith her stumps, and writes | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? | |
| | 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.' | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora | |
| | Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? | 80 |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Magni Dominator poli, | |
| | Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know | |
| | There is enough written upon this earth | |
| | To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts | 85 |
| | 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 woful fere | |
| | And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, | 90 |
| | 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. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. | 95 |
| | But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: | |
| | The dam will wake; and, 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. | 100 |
| | You are 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, | 105 |
| | And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you? | |
| Young LUCIUS | 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. | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft | 110 |
| | For his ungrateful country done the like. | |
| Young LUCIUS | And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | Come, go with me into mine armoury; | |
| | Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, | |
| | Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons | 115 |
| | Presents that I intend to send them both: | |
| | Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? | |
| Young LUCIUS | Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. | |
| TITUS ANDRONICUS | No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. | |
| | Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: | 120 |
| | 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 Young LUCIUS | |
| MARCUS ANDRONICUS | O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, | |
| | And not relent, or not compassion him? | |
| | Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, | 125 |
| | 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 | |