William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (94 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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DEMETRIUS
Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?
AARON
My mistress is my mistress, this myself,
The figure and the picture of my youth.
This before all the world do I prefer;
This maugre all the world will I keep safe,
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. no
DEMETRIUS
By this our mother is for ever shamed.
CHIRON
Rome will despise her for this foul escape.
NURSE
The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.
CHIRON
I blush to think upon this ignomy.
AARON
Why, there’s the privilege your beauty bears.
Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing
The close enacts and counsels of thy heart.
Here’s a young lad framed of another leer.
Look how the black slave smiles upon the father,
As who should say ‘Old lad, I am thine own.’
He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed
Of that self blood that first gave life to you,
And from that womb where you imprisoned were
He is enfranchised and come to light.
Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stamped in his face.
NURSE
Aaron, what shall I say unto the Empress?
DEMETRIUS
Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done,
And we will all subscribe to thy advice.
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.
AARON
Then sit we down, and let us all consult.
My son and I will have the wind of you.
Keep there; now talk at pleasure of your safety.
They sit
 
DEMETRIUS
(to the Nurse)
How many women saw this child of his?
AARON
Why, so, brave lords, when we do join in league
I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor,
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness,
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.
(To the Nurse)
But say again, how many saw the
child?
NURSE
Cornelia the midwife, and myself,
And no one else but the delivered Empress.
AARON
The Empress, the midwife, and yourself.
Two may keep counsel when the third’s away.
Go to the Empress, tell her this I said.
He kills her
 
‘Wheak, wheak’—so cries a pig prepared to the spit.
DEMETRIUS
What mean’st thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this?
AARON
OLord, sir, ’tis a deed of policy.
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours—
A long-tongued, babbling gossip? No, lords, no.
And now be it known to you my full intent.
Not far, one Muliteus my countryman
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed.
His child is like to her, fair as you are.
Go pack with him, and give the mother gold,
And tell them both the circumstance of all,
And how by this their child shall be advanced
And be received for the Emperor’s heir,
And substituted in the place of mine,
To calm this tempest whirling in the court;
And let the Emperor dandle him for his own.
Hark ye, lords, you see I have given her physic,
And you must needs bestow her funeral.
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms.
This done, see that you take no longer days,
But send the midwife presently to me.
The midwife and the nurse well made away,
Then let the ladies tattle what they please.
CHIRON
Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air
With secrets.
DEMETRIUS
For this care of Tamora,
Herself and hers are highly bound to thee.
Exeunt Chiron and Demetrius with the Nurse’s body
AARON
Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies,
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms
And secretly to greet the Empress’ friends.
Come on, you thick-lipped slave, I’ll bear you hence,
For it is you that puts us to our shifts.
I’ll make you feed on berries and on roots,
And fat on curds and whey, and suck the goat,
And cabin in a cave, and bring you up
To be a warrior and command a camp.
Exit with the child
4.3
Enter Titus, old Marcus, his son Publius, young Lucius, and other gentlemen (Sempronius, Caius) with bows; and Titus bears the arrows with letters on the ends of them
 
TITUS
Come, Marcus, come; kinsmen, this is the way.
Sir boy, let me see your archery.
Look ye draw home enough, and ‘tis there straight.
Terras Astraea reliquit.
Be you remembered, Marcus: she’s gone, she’s fled.
Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall
Go sound the ocean and cast your nets.
Happily you may catch her in the sea;
Yet there’s as little justice as at land.
No, Publius and Sempronius, you must do it.
’Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade
And pierce the inmost centre of the earth.
Then, when you come to Pluto’s region,
I pray you deliver him this petition.
Tell him it is for justice and for aid,
And that it comes from old Andronicus,
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome.
Ah, Rome! Well, well, I made thee miserable
What time I threw the people’s suffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannize o’er me.
Go, get you gone, and pray be careful all,
And leave you not a man-of-war unsearched.
This wicked Emperor may have shipped her hence,
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
MARCUS
O, Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distraught?
PUBLIUS
Therefore, my lords, it highly us concerns
By day and night t’attend him carefully
And feed his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some careful remedy.
MARCUS
Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy,
But ⌈ ⌉
Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
TITUS
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 now employed,
He thinks, with Jove, in heaven or somewhere else,
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.
TITUS
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 Iovem’,
that’s for you. Here, ’
ad Apollinem’.

Ad Martem
’, that’s for myself. 55
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
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court.
We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.
TITUS
Now, masters, draw.
They shoot
 
O, well said, Lucius!
Good boy, in Virgo’s lap ! Give it Pallas.
MARCUS
My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon.
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
TITUS
Ha, ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’ horns.
MARCUS
This was the sport, my lord. When Publius shot,
The Bull, being galled, 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 laughed, and told the Moor he should not choose
But give them to his master for a present.
TITUS
Why, there it goes. God give his lordship joy.
Enter the 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 Ho, the gibbet-maker? He says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.
TITUS
But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
CLOWN Alas, sir, I know not ‘Jupiter’. I never drank with him in all my life.
TITUS
Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?
CLOWN Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else.
TITUS 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 Emperal’s men.
TITUS
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—
(giving
money) meanwhile, here’s money
for thy charges.
Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace
Deliver up a supplication?
CLOWN Ay, sir.
TITUS (writing and giving the Clown a paper) 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
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 to the Emperor,
Knock at my door and tell me what he says.
CLOWN God be with you, sir. I will. Exit
TITUS
Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. Exeunt
4.4
Enter Saturninus, the Emperor, and Tamora, the Empress, and Chiron and Demetrius, her two sons, and others. The Emperor brings the arrows in his hand that Titus shot at him
 
SATURNINUS
Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was ever seen
An emperor in Rome thus overborne,
Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent
Of egall justice used in such contempt?
My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods,
However these disturbers of our peace
Buzz in the people’s ears, there naught hath passed
But even with law against the wilful sons
Of old Andronicus. And what an if
His sorrows have so overwhelmed 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 unjustice everywhere?
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 he sleep
He’ll so awake as he 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,
Th’effects of sorrow for his valiant sons
Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarred 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 in the port.
Enter Clown
How now, good fellow, wouldst thou speak with us?
CLOWN Yea, forsooth, an your mistress-ship be Emperial.
TAMORA Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.

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