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Rome. TITUS’ Garden. | |
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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: | 5 |
| 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? | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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, | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| Mar. Lucius, I will. [LAVINIA turns over the books which LUCIUS 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; | 35 |
| 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? | |
| Mar. I think she means that there was more than one | 40 |
| 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. | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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, | 60 |
| 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: | 65 |
| 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! | 70 |
| My lord, look here; look here, Lavinia: | |
| This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst, | |
| This after me. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with his feet and mouth. | |
| I have writ my name | |
| Without the help of any hand at all. | 75 |
| 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. | 80 |
| Tit. O! do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? | |
| Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius. | |
| Mar. What, what! the lustfulsons of Tamora | |
| Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? | |
| Tit. Magni dominator poli, | 85 |
| 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. | 90 |
| 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, | 95 |
| 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: | 100 |
| 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; | 105 |
| 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? | 110 |
| Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, | |
| Their mother’s bed-chamber should not be safe | |
| For these bad bond men to the yoke of Rome. | |
| Mar. Ay, that’s my boy! thy father hath full oft | |
| For his ungrateful country done the like. | 115 |
| 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: | 120 |
| 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: | 125 |
| 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 | 130 |
| 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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