This wicked emperor may have shipp’d her hence;
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
PUBLIUS Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns
By day and night to attend him carefully,
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some careful remedy.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy.
Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Publius, how now! how now, my masters!
What, have you met with her?
PUBLIUS No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word,
If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall:
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ’d,
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else,
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.
TITUS ANDRONICUS He doth me wrong to feed me with delays.
I’ll dive into the burning lake below,
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we
No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops’ size;
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back,
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear:
And, sith there’s no justice in earth nor hell,
We will solicit heaven and move the gods
To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs.
Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus;
He gives them the arrows
‘Ad Jovem,’ that’s for you: here, ‘Ad Apollinem:’
‘Ad Martem,’ that’s for myself:
Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
Of my word, I have written to effect;
There’s not a god left unsolicited.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Now, masters, draw.
They shoot
O, well said, Lucius!
Good boy, in Virgo’s lap; give it Pallas.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha!
Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’ horns.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
The Bull, being gall’d, gave Aries such a knock
That down fell both the Ram’s horns in the court;
And who should find them but the empress’ villain?
She laugh’d, and told the Moor he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy!
Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it
News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come.
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter?
Clown O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken
them down again, for the man must not be hanged till
the next week.
TITUS ANDRONICUS But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
Clown Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him
in all my life.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?
Clown Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, didst thou not come from heaven?
Clown From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God
forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my
young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the
tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl
betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial’s men.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for
your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to
the emperor from you.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor
with a grace?
Clown Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado,
But give your pigeons to the emperor:
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands.
Hold, hold; meanwhile here’s money for thy charges.
Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace
deliver a supplication?
Clown Ay, sir.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Then here is a supplication for you. And when you
come to him, at the first approach you must kneel,
then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and
then look for your reward. I’ll be at hand, sir; see
you do it bravely.
Clown I warrant you, sir, let me alone.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it.
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration;
For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant.
And when thou hast given it the emperor,
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
Clown God be with you, sir; I will.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.
Exeunt
Scene 4
The same. Before the palace.
Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot
SATURNINUS Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen
An emperor in Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent
Of egal justice, used in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace
Buz in the people’s ears, there nought hath pass’d,
But even with law, against the willful 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 injustice 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 she 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,
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,
Whose loss hath pierced 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 touched thee to the quick,
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise,
Then is all safe, the anchor’s in the port.
Enter Clown
How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us?
Clown Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.
TAMORA Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.
Clown ‘Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den:
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 hanged.
Clown Hanged! 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 villany?
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 butcher’d 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 AEMILIUS
What news with thee, AEmilius?
AEMILIUS Arm, arm, my lord;–Rome never had more cause.
The Goths have gather’d head; and with a power
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 begin our sorrows to approach:
‘Tis he the common people love so much;
Myself hath often over-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 favor Lucius,
And will revolt from me to succor him.
TAMORA King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.