He takes false shadows for true substances.
TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me:
I’ll to thy closet; and go read with thee
Sad stories chanced in the times of old.
Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young,
And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.
Exeunt
Act 4
Scene 1
Rome. Titus’s garden.
Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. 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.
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.
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,
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.
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.
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.
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?
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!
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.
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!–
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
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.
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
Without the help of any hand at all.
He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with 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,
That we may know the traitors and the truth!
She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with 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?
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
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,
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.
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.
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,
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
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
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:
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,
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
Scene 2
The same. A room in the palace.
Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them
CHIRON Demetrius, here’s the son of Lucius;
He hath some message to deliver us.
AARON Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.
Young LUCIUS My lords, with all the humbleness I may,
I greet your honours from Andronicus.
Aside
And pray the Roman gods confound you both!
DEMETRIUS Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what’s the news?
Young LUCIUS [Aside]
That you are both decipher’d, that’s the news,
For villains mark’d with rape.–May it please you,
My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;
And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well:
And so I leave you both:
Aside
like bloody villains.
Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant
DEMETRIUS What’s here? A scroll; and written round about?
Let’s see;
Reads
‘Integer vitae, scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.’
CHIRON O, ’tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:
I read it in the grammar long ago.
AARON Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it.
Aside
Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
Here’s no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well afoot,