Classic Audiobook Collection - Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [tragedy]

Episode Date: May 6, 2025

Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: tragedy In ancient Rome, the celebrated general Titus Andronicus returns from war expecting peace and honor, only to find the city roiling with political ambition and fragile claims to power. When a new emperor is chosen and an enemy queen, Tamora, is brought to Rome in chains, ceremonial decisions made in the name of tradition ignite a feud that quickly spreads from the senate to the hearth. Titus, proud patriarch of a formidable household, struggles to protect his family and reputation as rival factions maneuver for influence. Tamora, newly positioned to strike back, draws on the cunning of her confidant Aaron to turn court intrigue into personal ruin. As alliances shift and loyalties fracture, Titus' daughter Lavinia and his surviving sons become targets in a conflict that feeds on public spectacle and private grief. Shakespeare drives the story forward with relentless momentum, probing how vengeance can masquerade as justice and how honor, once weaponized, can consume everyone who clings to it. Titus Andronicus is a stark, operatic portrait of a society where power is performative and mercy is perilous. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:01:37) Chapter 1 (00:29:38) Chapter 2 (01:00:05) Chapter 3 (01:22:21) Chapter 4 (01:52:27) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Act 1 of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. Act 1, Scene 1. Rome, before the Capitol. The tomb of Andronarchy appearing, the tribunes and senators aloft. Enter below, from one side, Saturnius and his followers, and from the other side, Basianus and his followers, with drum and colors. Noble Patricians, patrons on my right, defend the justice of my cause with arms. And countrymen, my loving followers, plead my successive title with your swords. I am his first-born son, that was the last, that wore the imperial diadem of Rome.

Then let my father's honors live in me. Nor wrong my age with this indignity. Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right, if ever Bacianus Caesar's son were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, keep then this passage to the capital, and suffer not dishonor, to approach the imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, to justice, continence, and nobility. But let in desert, in pure election shine, and Romans fight for freedom in your choice. Enter Marcus and Dronachus aloft with the crown.

Princes that strive by factions and by friends ambitiously for rule and empery. Know that the people of Rome for whom we stand a special party have, by common voice, election for the Roman empery, chosen Andronicus, surnamed pious, for many good and great deserts to Rome. A nobler man, a braver warrior, lives not this day within the city walls. He by the Senate is a sited home, from weary wars against the barbarous goths that, with his sons a terror to our foes hath yoked a nation strong, trained up in arms. Ten years are spent since first he undertook this cause of Rome and chastised with arms our

enemy's pride. Five times he hath returned bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons in coffins from the field, and now, at last, laden with horror's spoils, returns the good Andronicus to Rome, renowned Titus flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, by honour of his name, whom worthily you would have now succeed. And in the capital and senate's right, whom you pretend to honor and adore, that you withdraw you and abate your strength, dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, plead your desserts in peace and humbleness. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts? Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally in thy uprightness and integrity, and so I love and honor thee and thine, thy noble brother Titus and his sons,

and her to whom my thoughts are humbled all. Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, that I will here dismiss my loving friends, and to my fortunes and the people's favor, commit my cause in balance to be weighed. Exxon the followers of Bacianus. Friends that have been thus forward in my ride, I thank you all and here dismiss you all. I'll to the love and favor of my country, commit myself, my person, and the cause. Exxon't the followers of Saternius. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me. as I am confident and kind today.

Open the gates and let me in. Tribunes and me a poor competitor. Flourish. Saturnius and Basinus go up into the capital. Enter captain. Romans make way. The good Andronicus. Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion. Successful in the battles that he fights, with honor and with fortune,

his return from where he circumcised, with his sword. and brought to yoke the enemies of Rome. Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter Martius and Mutius. After them, two men bearing a coffin covered with black. Then Lucius and Quintus. After them, Titus and Dronicus, and then Tamara, with Alerbus, Demetrius,

Kieran, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners, soldiers, and people following. The bearers set down the coffin and Titus speaks. Hail Rome, victorious. in thy morning weeds. Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her fraught returns with precious lading to the bay from once at first she weighed her anchorage.

Comeeth, Adronichus, bound with laurel bows, to re-sulute his country with his tears. Tears of true joy for his return to Rome, thou great defender of this capital, stand gracious to the rights that we intend. Romans are five-and-twenty valiant sons, half of the number that King Priam had, behold the poor remains, alive and dead.

These that survive let Rome reward with love, these that I bring unto their latest home, with burial amongst their ancestors. Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. Titus, unkind and careless of thine own, why sufferest thou thy sons, unburied yet, to hover on the dreadful shore of sticks? Make way to lay them by their brethren

The tomb is opened There greet in silence as the dead are wont And sleep in peace Slain in your country's wars O sacred receptacle of my joys Sweet cell of virtue and nobility How many sons of mine hast thou in store That thou wilt never render to me more

Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths That we may hew his limbs And on a pile Adamain's Fratram's sacrifice is flesh before the earthly prison of their bones. But so the shadows be not unappeased, nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth. I give him you the noblest that survives, the eldest son of this distressed queen.

Stay, Roman brethren, gracious conqueror, victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, her mother's tears in passion for her son. And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, oh, think my son to be as dear to me. sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome To beautify thy triumphs

And return captive to thee And to thy Roman yoke But must my sons be slaughtered Than the streets For valiant doings in their country's cause? O if to fight for king and commonweil were piety in thine It is in these! Antronicus, stay not thy tomb with blood

Willst thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. Thrice noble Titus spare my first-born son. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you goths beheld alive and dead, And for their brethren slain, religiously they ask a sacrifice. To this your son is marked, and die he must,

To appease their growing shadows that are gone. Away with him, and make a fire straight, and with our swords upon a pile of wood Let's hue his limbs Till they be clean consumed Exaunt Lucius Quintus Martius and Muteus

With alibus O cruel, irreligious piety Was ever Scythia half so barbarous Oppose not Scythia To ambitious Rome A larbus goes to rest And we survive to tremble Under Titus threatening looks

Then, madam, stand resolved But hope with all The self-same gods that armed the queen of Troy, with opportunity of sharp revenge upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, may favor Tamara the queen of Goths, when Goths were Goths and Tamara was queen, to quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Muteus, with their swords bloody. See, Lord and Father, how we have performed our Roman rites. Alarba's limbs are lopped, and entrails feed the sacrificing fire who smoke

like incense doth perfume the sky, Remaineth naught but to interr our brethren, and with loud larums welcome them to Rome. Let it be so, and let Andronicus make this his latest farewell to their souls. Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb. In peace and honour, rest you here, my sons. Rome's readiest champions repose you here in rest, secure from worldly chances and mishaps. Here lurks no treason. Here no envy swells. Here grow no damnate grudges. Here are no storms. No noise, but silence and eternal sleep. In peace and honor, rest you hear, my sons. Enter Lavinia. In peace and honor live Lord Titus Long. My noble Lord and Father live in fame. Lo, at this tomb my tributary drops I render for my brethren's obsequies, and

At thy feet I kneel with tears of joy shed on the earth for thy return to Rome. O bless me here with thy victorious hand, whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud. Kind Rome that hast thus lovingly reserved the cordial of mine age to glad my heart. Lavinia live, outlive thy father's days and fain's eternal date for virtue's praise. Enter below Marcus and Johnicus and tribunes. Reenter Saturnius and Bost. Asunus attended. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, gracious triumfer in the eyes of Rome. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

And welcome nephews from successful wars, you that survive, and you that sleep in fame. Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, that in your country's service drew your swords. But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, that hath aspired to Solon's happiness and triumphs over chance in honor's bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, whose friend injustice thou hast ever been, send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, this polyament of white and spotless hue, and name thee an election for the empire. With these our late-deceased emperor's sons, be candidatus then, and put it on, and help to set a head on headless Rome.

A better head her glorious body fits than his that shakes for age and feebleness. What should I don this robe and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations today. Tomorrow, yield up rule, resign my life, and set abroad new business for you all. Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, and led my country's strength successfully, and buried one and twenty valiant sons, knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, and right and service of their noble country. Give me a staff of honor for mine age, but not a sceptre to control the world.

Upright he held it, lords that held at last. Titus, thou shalt obtain, and ask the emperry. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? Patience, Prince Saturninus. Romans do me right. Patricians draw your swords and sheed them not, till Saturninus be Rome's emperor. Andronicus, would thou had ship to hell,

rather than rob me of the people's hearts. Proud, Saturnine. Interruptor of the good that noble-minded Titus means to thee. Content thee, Prince, I will restore to thee the people's hearts and wean them from themselves. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, but I honour thee and will do till I die. My faction, if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be, and thanks to men of noble minds, is Honourable Mead. People of Rome and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages. Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?

To gratify the good Andronicus, and gratulate his safe return to Rome, the people will accept whom he admits. Tribunes I thank you, and this suit I make, that you create your emperor's eldest son, Lord Saturnine, whose virtues will, I hope, reflect on Rome as titans raise on earth, and ripen justice in this common wheel. Then if you will elect by my advice, Crown him and say long live our emperor with voices and applause of every sort patricians and plebeians we create lord saturninus rome's great emperor and say long live our emperor saturnine a long flourish till they come down titus and john ecus for thy favours done to us in our election this day i give the thanks in part of thy deserts and will with deeds require thy gentleness and for an onset titus to advance thy name and honourable family lavinia will i make my empress rome's royal mistress mistress of my heart and in the sacred pantheon her spouse tell me andronicus dotish motion please thee he doth my worthy lord and in this match i hold me highly honoured of your grace and here in sight of rome to saturnine king and commander of our commonweal the wide world's emperor do i consecrate my sword my chariot and my prisoners. Presence, well-worthy Rome's imperial lord. Receive them then the tribute that I

owe. Mine honors and sins humbled at thy feet. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life. How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts. Rome shall record, and when I do forget the list of these unspeakable deserts, Romans forget your filthy to me. To Tamara. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor? To him that for your honor and your state will use you nobly and your followers a godly lady trust me of the heel that i would choose where i choose anew clear of fair queen that cloudy countenance though chance of war had wrought this change of cheer though comest not to be made as corn in rome prince lee shall be thy usage every way rest on my heart and let not this content don't all your hopes madame he comforts you Can make you greater than the queen of gods. Levini, you are not displeased with this. Not I, my lords.

It's true nobility warrants these words in princely courtesy. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go. Ransomless heir is set our prisoners free. Proclaim our honors, Lord, with trump and drum. Flourish. Saturnius Courts Tamara and Dumbshow. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.

Seizing Lavinia How, sir, are you in earnest then, my lord? I, noble Titus, and resolved with all, to do myself with reason and this right. Suum Quiquet is our Roman justice. This prince in justice seeth but his own. And that he will, and shall if Lucius live. Traders of want, where is the emperor's guard? Treason, my lord.

Lavinia is surprised. Surprised? By whom? By him that justly may, bear. his betrothed from all the world away. Exant, Basianus and Marcus with Lavinia. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, and with my sword I'll keep this door safe.

Exxant Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. My lord, you pass not here. What villain boy, burst me my way in Rome. Stabbing Muteus. Help, Lucius, help. Huck! Oh!

Dyes. During the fray, Saturnius, Tamara, Demetrius, Chiron, and Aaron go out and re-enter above. Reenter Lucius. My lord, you are unjust, and more than so, in wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. Nor thou, nor he are any sons of mine. My sons would never so dishonor me. Trader, restore Lavinia to the emperor. Dead, if you will. But not to be his wife, that is another's lawful, promised love. Exit. that is no. The emperor needs or not.

No heart, nor thee, nor any of thy stark. I'll trust by leisure or him that marks me once. D-never. Nor the traitor of these sons. Confidenters all thus to dishonour me. Was there none else in Rome to make his tale, but saturnite? Full well, Andronicus. Her greed his deeds with that proud brag of dying.

That saddest, I begged the empire and thy hands. monstrous what reproachful words are these but go thy ways go give the changing peace to him that flourished for how it is sword a valiant son in law thou shalt enjoy one fit to bent eye with thy lawless sons to ruffle in the commonalta row these words are razors to my wounded heart and therefore lovely tamora queen of gods that like the stately phoebe amongst her memes tossed overshed the gallantest themes of Rome if thou be pleased with this my sudden choice behold I choose thee tomorrow for my bride and will create the Empress of Rome speak queen of

gods thus thou applaud my choice and here I swear by all the Roman gods said priest and holy water are so near and tapirs bound so bright and everything in readiness for Hymenia's tent I will not resolutely the street of Rome or climb my palace, till from fort displays Ily disposed by bride along with me. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome, I swear. If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, she will, a handmaid be to his desires, a loving nurse, a mother to his youth. Ascend the fair queen, Pantean. Lords, accompany your noble emperor and his lovely bride. sent by the heavens for Prince Sutter nine,

whose wisdom had her fortune conquered, there shall we consummate our spousal rise. Exaunt all but Titus. I am not bid to wait upon this bride, Titus, when would thou want to walk alone, dishonored thus, and challenge it of wrongs? Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. O Titus, see, O see, what thou hast done,

In a bad quarrel, slain a virtuous son. No, foolish gibbue, no, no son of mine, nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed that hath dishonoured all our family, unworthy brother and unworthy sons. But let us give him burial as becomes, give Nuteus burial with our brethren. Traders away, he rests not in this tomb. This monument five hundred years hath stood, which I have sumptuously reedify. Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors repose in fame, none basely slain in brawls. Burry him where you can. He comes not here.

My lord, this is impiety in you. My nephew, Muteus deeds, do plead for him. He must be buried with his brethren. And shall, or him we will accompany. And shall. What villain was it that spake that word? He that would vouch it in any place but here. What would you bury him in my despite? No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee to pardon Muteus, and to bury him. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, and with these boys mine honor thou hast wounded.

My foes I do repute you every one, so trouble me no more but get you gone. He is not with himself. Let us withdraw. Not I, till Mucousius' bones be buried. Marcus and the sons of Titus kneel. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead. And in that name doth nature speak. Speak thou no more if all the rest will speed. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul.

Dear father, soul and substance of us all. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interr his noble nephew here in virtue's nest, that died in honor, and Lavinia's cause, Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax that slew himself, And wise Laertie's son did graciously plead for his funerals. Let not, young Muteus then, that was thy joy, be barred his entrance here. Rise, Marcus, rise.

The dismalst day is this that ere I saw, to be dishonored by my sons in Rome. Well, bury him and bury me the next. Muteus is put into the tomb. There lie thy bones, sweet Muteus, with thy friends, till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. No man shed tears for noble Muteus. He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps. How comes it that the subtle queen of the Goths

is, of a sudden, thus advanced in Rome? I know not, Marcus, but I know it is, whether by device or no the heavens can tell. Is she not then beholding to the man that brought her for this high good turn so far? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. Flourish. Re-enter from one side, Saturnius attended. Tamara, Demetrius, Kiran, and Aaron. From the other, Bacianus, Lavinia, and others. So, Bacianus, you have played your prize. God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.

And you have yours, my lord. I say no more, nor wish no less, and so I take my leave. traitor if Rome have law or we have power thou and thy faction shall repent this rape rape call you it my lord to seize my own my truth betrothed love and now my wife but let the laws of Rome determine all meanwhile I am possessed of that is mine it is good sir you are very short with us but if we leave we will be a sharp with you

my lord what I have done as best I may answer I must and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your grace to know, by all the duties that I owe to Rome. This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, is in opinion and in honor wronged, that the rescue of Lavinia with his own hand did slay his youngest son, in zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath to be controlled, in that he frankly gave, receive him, then, to favour Saturnine, that hath expressed himself in all his deeds, a father and a friend, to thee and Rome. Prince Bastionis leave to plead my deeds. Tis thou and those that have dishonoured me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, how I have loved and honoured Saturnine.

My worthy Lord, if ever Tamara were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, then hear me speak in indifferently for all. And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. What, madam, be dishonoured openly, and basely put it up without revenge? Not so, my lord, the gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you. But on mine honour dare I undertake for good Lord Titus' innocence in all, Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs. Then at my suit look graciously on him,

Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. A sigh to Saternius. My lord, be ruled by me, be one at last, Dissemble all your griefs and discontents. You are but newly planted in your throne, Lest then the people and patricians too upon a just survey take Titus part, And so supplant you for ingratitude,

which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, yield at entreats, and then let me alone. I'll find a day to massacre them all, and raise their faction and their family, the cruel father and his traitorous sons, to whom I sued for my dear son's life, and make them know what tis to let a queen kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.

Aloud. Come, come, come. Come, sweet emperor, come Andronicus, take up this good old man and cheer the heart that dies in tempest of thy angry frown. Rise, Titus, rise. My empress had prevailed. I thank your majesty and her, my lord. These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. Titus, I am in corporate in Rome, a Roman now adopted happily, and must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus, And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconciled your friends and you.

For you, Prince Bacianus, I have passed my word and promised to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. And fear not lords and you, Lavinia, By my advice all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of His Majesty. We do, and vow to heaven. and to His Highness that what we did was mildly as we might,

tendering our sister's honour and our own. That, on mine honour, here I do protest. Away and talk not. Trouble us no more. Nay, nay, sweet Emperor, we must all be friends. The Tribune and his nephews kneel for grace. I will not be denied. Sweetheart, look back. Marcus, for thy sake and sake.

thy brothers here and that my lovely tamora's entreats i do remit this young man's highness falls stand up lavinia do you left me like a child i found a friend and sure as that i saw i would not part a bachelor from the priest come if the emperor's code can feast to two brides you are my guest lavinia and your friends this day shall be a loved day tamora to-morrow and it please your majesty to hunt the panther and the heart with me with horn and will give you a grace bonjour. Be it so, Titus, and great mercy too. Floress, exont.

End of Act 1, Scene 1. End of Act 1 Act 2 of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 2, Scene 1, Rome, before the public.

palace. Enter Aaron. Now climbeth Tamara Olympus Top, safe out of fortune's shot, and sits aloft, secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash, advanced above pale envy's threatening reach, as when the golden sun salutes the morn, and having gilt the ocean with his beams, gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, and overlooks the highest peering hills. So Tamara, upon her wit, death earthly honor weight, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, And fit thy thoughts to mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,

And mount her pitch, Whom thou in triumph long hast prisoner held, Fettered in amorous chains, And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes, Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts, I will be bright and shine in pearl and gold to wait upon this new-made empress. To wait, said I, to wanton with this queen, this goddess, this semi-ramus, this nymph, this siren, that will charm Rome Saturnine, and see his shipwreck and his common-wills. Hello?

What storm is this? enter demetrius and kiran braving kiron thy years want wit thy wit wants edge and manners to intrude where i am graced and may for aught thou knowest affected be Demetrius thou dost overween in all And so in this to bear me down with braves Tis not the difference of a year or two makes me less gracious

Or thee more fortunate I am as able and as fit as thou to serve And to deserve my mistress's grace And that my sword upon thee shall approve, and plead my passions for Lavinia's love. Aside. Clubs! Clubs! These lovers will not keep the peace. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised, gave you a dancing rapier by your side,

are you so desperate groan to threat your friends? Go, too, have your lath glued within your sheath till you know better how to handle it. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. Aye, boy, grow ye so brave! They draw, coming forward. Why, how now, lords? So near the Emperor's Palace dare you draw and maintain such a quarrel openly?

For well I walk the ground of all this grudge. I would not, for a million of gold, the cause were known to them at most concerns. Nor would your noble mother, for much more, be so dishonored in the court of Rome. For shame, put up. not I till I have sheathed my rapier in his bosom, and withal thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat that he hath breathed in my dishonour here. For that I am prepared and full-resolved, foul-spoken coward that thundersed with thy tongue, and with thy weapon nothing darest perform.

Away, I say. Now, by the gods that warlike goths adore, this petty brabble will undo us all. Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous it is to jet upon a prince's right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, or Baciana so degenerate, that for her love such quarrels may be broached without controlment, justice, or revenge? Young lords, beware, and should the empress know this discord's ground, the music would not please. I care not I, knew she and all the world, I love Lavinia more than all the world. Young Ling, learn thou to make some meaner choice. Lavinia is thy elder brother's hope.

Why? Are you mad? Or know ye not in Rome how furious and impatient they be, and cannot brook competitors in love? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths by this device. Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose to achieve her whom I love. To achieve her? How? Why makes thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be wooed. She is a woman, therefore may be won.

She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. What man! More water glidedeth by the mill than what's the miller of. And easy it is of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know. Though Bacianus be the emperor's brother, better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. Aside. Aye, and as good as Saturninus may.

Then why should he despair that no one. to court it with words, fair looks, and liberality. What, hast not thou full often struck a doe and borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? Why, then it seems, some certain snatch or so would serve your turns. Aye, so the turn were served. Aaron, thou hast hit it. Would you had hit it, too? Then should not we be tired with this ado? Why, hark ye, hark ye, and are you such fools to square for this?

Would it offend you then that both should speed? Faith, not me. Nor me, so I were one. For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar. Tis policy and stratagem must do that you effect. And so must you resolve that what you cannot as you would achieve, you must perforce, accomplish as you may. Take this of me.

Lucrez was not more chaste than this Lavinia, Bacianus love. A speedier course than lingering languishment must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand. There will the lovely Roman ladies troop. The forest walks are wide and spacious, and many unfrequented plots there are, fitted by kind for rape and villainy. single you thither then this dainty doe, and strike her home by force, if not by words, this way or not at all stand you in hope.

Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit to villainy and vengeance consecrate, will we acquaint with all that we intend, and she shall file our engines with advice that will not suffer you to square yourselves. But to your wish's height advance you both. The Emperor's court is like the House of Fame, the palace full of tongues of eyes and ears. The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf and dull. There, speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns. There serve your lusts shadowed from heaven's e, and revel in Lavinia's treasury.

Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. Sit fast out nefast till I find the stream to cool this heat, A charm to calm these fits. Perstaiga Permanes Vehor Exaunt End of Act 2, Scene 1 Act 2 A forest near Rome

Horns and cries of hounds heard Enter Titus Andronicus with hunters, Marcus, Lucius, Quintus and Martius The hunt is up, the morn is bright and gray. The fields are fragrant and the woods are green. Uncouple here and let us make a bay, and wake the emperor and his lovely bride, and rouse the prince and ring a hunter's peal, that all the court may echo with the noise. Sons, let it be your charge as it is ours, to attend the emperor's person carefully. I have been troubled in my sleep this night,

but dawning day new comfort have inspired. A cry of hounds and horns, winded in appeal. Enter Saturnius, Tamara, Bacianus, Lavinia, Dmitrius, Chiron, and attendance. Many good-morrows to your majesty, madam, to you as many and as good. I promise it your grace a hunter's peal. And you have wrong and lost to-e-law, some are too early for numerous ladies. Lavinia, how say you? I say no.

I've been broad awake two hours and more. Come on, then. Horse and chariots let us have, and to ours boat. To Tamara. Madam, now shall you see our Roman hunting? I have dogs, my lord, will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, and climb the highest promontory top. And I have horse will follow where the game makes way, and run like swallows over the plain.

Kieran, we hunt not we with horse nor hound, but hope to pluck a dainty dough to ground. Exxonte. End of Act 2, Scene 2. Act 2 Scene 3. A lonely part of the forest. Enter Aaron with a bag of gold. He that had wit would think that I had none,

to bury so much gold under a tree and never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly know that this gold must coin a strategy. which, cunningly affected, will beget a very excellent piece of villainy. And so, repose sweet gold for their unrest. Hides the gold. That have their arms out of the empress chest. Enter Tamara. My lovely Aaron, wherefore looks thou sad,

When everything doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush. The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun. The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind and make a checkered shadow on the ground. Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit. And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, as if a double hunt were heard at once, let us sit down and mark their yelping noise,

and after conflict such as was supposed to the wandering prince and Dido once enjoyed, when with a happy storm they were surprised and curtained with a council-keeping cave. We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, whilst hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds be unto us, as is a nurse's song of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over my mind, What signifies my deadly standing eye, My silence and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls, Even as an adder when she doth unroll to do some

fatal execution. No, madam, these are no venereal signs. Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark, Tamara, the empress of my soul, which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee. This is the day of doom for Bacianus. His philomel must lose her tongue today. Thy sons make pillage of her chastity and wash their hands in Bacianus blood. Seest thou this letter?

Take it up, I pray thee, and give the king this fatal plotted scroll. Now, question me no more. We are espied. Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, which dreads not yet their lives destruction. Oh, my sweet more, sweeter to me than life! No more, great Empress. Basianus comes, be cross with him,

and I'll go fetch thy sons to back thy quarrels whatsoever they be. Exit. Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, unfurnished of her well-be seeming troop, or is it Dian, habited like her, who hath abandoned her holy groves to see the general hunting in this forest? Sossy controller of our private steps. Had I the power that some say Dian had,

thy temple should be planted presently with horns, as was Actians, and the hound should drive upon thy new transformate limbs, unmannally intruder as thou art. under your patience gentle empress tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning and to be doubted that your more and you are singled forth to try experiments chose shield your husband from his hounds to-day tis pity they should take him for a stag believe me queen your swarth samarian doth make your honour of his body's hue spotted detested and abominable why are you sequester from all your train, dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed,

and wandered hither to an obscure plot, accompanied but with a barbarous moor, if a foul desire had not conducted you. And being intercepted in your sport, great reason that my noble lord be rated for sauciness? I pray you, let us hence, and let her joy her raven-colored love. This valley fits the purpose, passing well.

The king, my brother, shall have note of this. I, for these slips have made him noted long. Good king to be so mightily abused. Why have I patience to endure all this? Enter Demetrius and Chiron. How now, dear sovereign and our gracious mother? Why did your highness look so pale and wan? Have I not reason, thank you, to look pale?

These two have tised me hither to this place. A barren detested veil, you see it is. The trees, though summer yet forlorn and lean, Or come with moss and baleful mistletoe. Here never shines the sun. Here nothing breeds unless the nightly owl or fatal raven. And when they showed me this abhorred pit, They told me here at dead time of the night a thousand fiends,

A thousand hissing snakes, 10,000 swelling toads, As many urchins would make such fearful, and confuse it cries as any mortal body hearing it should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, but straight they told me they would bind me here unto the body of a dismal you, and leave me to this miserable death. And then they called me foul, adulterous, lascivious goth, and all the bitterest terms that ever eared adhere to such effect. And had you not by wondrous fortune come, this vengeance on me had they executed?

Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, or be ye not henceforth called my children? This is a witness that I am thy son. Stabs at Bacianus. And this, for me, struck home to show my strength. Also stabs Bacianus, who dies. I come, Samiramus. nay, barbarous Tamara, for no name fits thy nature but thy own. Give me thy poignard. You shall know, my boys, your mother's hand shall right your mother's

wrong. Stay, madam. Here is more belongs to her. First thrashed the corn, then after burn the straw. This minion stood upon her chastity, upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, and with that painted hope braves your mightiness. And shall she carry this unto her grave? And if she do, I would I were a eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole and make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. But when ye have the honey ye desire, let not this wasp out live us both to sting. I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy that nice preserved honesty of yours. Oh, Tamara, thou bearsed

a woman's face. I will not hear her speak away with her. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. Listen, fair madam. Let it be your glory to see her tears, but be your heart to them as unrelenting flint to drops

of rain. When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? Oh, do not learn her wrath. She taught it thee. The milk thou sussed from her. did turn to marble, even at thy teeth thou hadst thy tyranny. Yet, every mother breeds not sons alike. To Kieran. Do thou entreat her show a woman, pity? What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?

Tis true the raven doth not hatch a lark. Yet have I heard, oh, could I find it now? The lion moved with pity did endure to have his princely paws parred all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, the whilst their own birds famish in their nests. O be to me, though thy hard heart say no, nothing so kind, but something pitiful. I know not what it means. Away with her.

Oh, let me teach thee for my father's sake that gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee. Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. Hats thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake, am I pitiless. Remember, boys, I poured forth tears in vain to save your brother from the sacrifice. But fierce Andronicus would not relent. Therefore, I'll weigh with her, and use her as you will.

The worse to her, the better loved of me. O Tamara, be called a gentle queen, and with thine own hands, kill me in this place, for tis not life that I've begged so long. poor I was slain when Bacianus died What begs thou then, fond woman, let me go? Tis present death, I beg, And one thing more that womanhood denies my tongue to tell Oh, keep me from their worse than killing lust

And tumble me into some loathsome pit Where never man's eye may behold my body. Do this and be a charitable murderer. So should I rob? my sweet sons of their fee. No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. Away, for thou hast stayed us here too long. No, grace, no, womanhood?

A beastly creature. The blot and enemy to our general name. Confusion fall. Nay, then, I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband. This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. Demetrius throws the body of Bassianus into the pit, then exont Demetrius and Kiran, dragging off Lavinia.

Farewell, my sons, see that you make her sure. Ne'er let my heart no merry cheer indeed, till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely moor, and let my spleenful sons this troll de flower. Exit. Reenter Aaron with Quintus and Martius. my lords the better foot before,

Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep. My sight is very dull what air it bodes. And mine, I promise you, what not for shame, Where could I leave our sport to sleep a while? Falls into the pit. What, at thou fallen? What subtle hole is this?

Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briars? Upon whose leaves are drops of new shed blood, As fresh as morning dew distilled on flowers. A very fatal place at sea. seems to me. Speak, brother. Has thou hurt thee with the fall? O brother, with a dismalist object hurt that ever I with sight ever made heart lament. Aside. Now will I fetch the king to find them here, that he thereby may give a likely guess,

how these were they that made away his brother. Exit. Why dost thou not comfort me and help me out from this unhallowed and blood-stained whole? I am surprised with an uncouth fear. A chilling sweat o'eruns my trembling joints. My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. To prove thou hast a true divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, and see a fearful sight of blood and death. Aaron is gone, and my compassionate heart will not permit mine eyes,

once to behold the thing where at it trembles by surmise. Or tell me how it is, for near till now was I a child, to fear I know not what. Lord Bessanius lies imbrewed here, all of a heap like to a slaughtered land, in this to test a dark blood-drinking pit. If it be dark, how dost thou know tis he? Upon his bloody finger he doth wear a precious ring that lightens all the whole, which, like a taper in some monument,

doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, and shows the ragged entrails of the pit. So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, when he by night lead bathed in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand, if he hath made thee faint, as me it has, out of this fell devouring receptacle, as hateful as cosetous misty mouth.

Reach me thy hand that I may help thee out, or wanting strength to do thee so much good I may be plucked into the swallowing womb of this deep pit. Poor Basianus is grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. Nor I, no strength to climb, without thy help. Thy hand once more, I will not loose again, till thou art here aloft or eye below.

Thou canst not come to me. I come to thee. Falls in. Enter Saturnius with Aaron. Along with me, I'll see what whole is here, and what he is that now is lipped into it. Say, who are the doubt that lately didst descend into the scaping hollow of the art? The unhappy son of old Andronicus brought hither in a most unlucky hour

to find their brother Bessanias dead. My brother, Dad, I know thou dost but jest. He and this lady both her at the lodge, up on the north side of this place on chase. It is not an hour since I left him there. We know not where you left him all alive, but out, alas, here have we found him dead. Re-enter Tamara with attendance, Titus Andronicus and Lucius. Where is my lord the king? Here, Tamora, do grieve do the killing gruel.

Where is thy brother Bacianus? Now to the bottom dost the source by wound. Poor Bacianus here lies murdered. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, the complot of this timeless tragedy, and wonder greatly that man's face can fold in pleasing smile such murderous tyranny. She giveth Saturnius a letter, reads. And if we miss to meet him handsomely, sweet huntsman, Baciannais, as it is we mean do thou so much as take the grave for him turn o'stormany look for thy reward

among the needles at the elder tree which oversees the mouth of that same pit where we decreed to bury by sienas do this and purchase us thy lasting friends oh tamara was our heart the like. This is the pit and this is the elder tree. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out that should have marred at Baciana's hair. My gracious Lord, here is the bag of gold. Two Titus. Two of thy welves fell cars of bloody kind. Have here bereft my brother of his life.

Soss drag them from the pit unto the prison. They let them bide until we have devised some never heard of torturing pay. pain for them. What are they in this pit? A wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered! High Emperor, upon my feeble knee, I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed.

That this fell fault of my accursed sons, accursed if the fault be proved in them. If it be proved. You see, it is apparent. Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? Andronicus himself did take it up. I did, my lord.

Yet let me be their bail. For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow they shall be ready at your highness' will to answer the suspicion with their lives. Thou shalt not bail them. See, thou follow me. Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers. Let them not speak a word to kill this plain.

For by my soul, where they're worse than death, That end upon them should be executed. And, Daronicus, I will entreat the king. Fear not thy sons. They shall do well enough. Come, Lucius, come. Stay not to talk with them. Exaunt. End of Act 2, Scene 3. Act 2, Scene 4.

Another part of the forest. Enter Demetrius and Chiron with Lavinia, ravished. Her hands cut off and her tongue cut out. So now go tell, and if thy tongue can speak, who twas that cut thy tongue and ravished thee. Write down thy mind, beray thy meaning so. And if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe? See how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.

Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. She hath no tongue to call nor hands to wash, and so let's leave her to her silent walks. And twere my case, I should go hang myself. If thou hadst hands to help thee, knit the cord. Exhaunt Demetrius and Kieran. Enter Marcus. Who is this? My niece, that flies away so fast. Cousin, a word. Where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me? If I do wake, some planet strike me down that I may slumber in eternal sleep. Speak, gentle niece.

What stern ungentle hands hath lopped and hewed and made thy body bare of her two branches, those sweet ornaments whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, and might not gain so great a happiness as have thy love. Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, like to a bubbling fountain stirred with wind, doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, coming and going with thy honey breath, but sure some tearyus hath deflowered thee, and lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turnst away thy face for shame. And notwithstanding all this loss of blood, as from a conduit, with three issuing spouts,

yet do thy cheeks look as red as titan's face blushing to be encountered with the cloud. Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say tis so, O that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, that I might rail at him to ease my mind. Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopped, doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philemala. She but lost her tongue, and in a tedious sampler, sewed her mind.

But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee, a craftier, tearyous cousin hast thou met. And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, that could have better sowed than philomel. Oh, had the monster seen those lilyhands tremble Like aspen leaves upon a lute, and make the silken strings delight to kiss them. He would not then have touched them for his life.

Or had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropped his knife, And fell asleep as Cerebus at the Thracian poet's feet. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind. For such a sight will be. blind a father's eye. One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads. What will hold months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee. O, could our

morning ease thy misery? Exhaunt. End of Act 2, Scene 4. End of Act 2. Act 3 of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 3, Scene 1, Rome, a street. Enter judges, senators, and tribunes with Martius and Quintus bound, passing on to the place of execution.

Titus going before, pleading. Hear me, great fathers. noble tribunes stay, for pity of mine age, whose youth was spent in dangerous wars whilst you securely slept, for all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed, for all the frosty nights that I have watched, and for these bitter tears which now you see filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, be pitiful to my condemned sons, whose souls are not corrupted as tis thought. For two and twenty sons I never wept because they died in honor's lofty bed. Lieth down, the judges pass him by and exont.

For these, these tribunes, in the dust I write, my heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears. Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite. My son's sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain that shall distill from these two ancient herds. then youthful April shower with all his showers. In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still. In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow And keep eternal springtime on my face. So thou refuse to drink my dear son's blood.

Enter Lucius with his sword drawn. O reverend tribunes, O gentle aged men, unbind my sons. Reverse the doom of death. And let me say that never wept before, my tears are now prevailing orators. O noble father, you lament in vain. The tribunes hear you not, no man is by,

and you recount your sorrows to a stone. Al Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Grave tribunes, once more, I entreat. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. Why, it is no matter, man, if they did hear, they would not mark me, or if they did mark, they would not pity me, yet plead I must, and bootless unto them.

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stone, Though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort are they better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale. When I do weep, they humbly at my feet, Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me. Were they but tired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

A stone is soft as wax. Tribune's more hard than stones. A stone is silent and offendeth not. And if tribunes with their tongues doom men to death, Rises. But wherefore stams thou with thy weapon drawn? To rescue my two brothers from their death, for which attempts the judges have pronounced my everlasting doom of banishment!

O happy man, they have befriended thee. Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, that Rome is but a wilderness of tigers. Tigers must pray, and Rome affords no prey but me and mine. How happy art thou, then? these devourers to be banished. But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter Marcus and Lavinia. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep, or, if not so, thy noble heart to break,

I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. Will it consume me? Let me see it, then. This was thy daughter. Why, Marcus, so she is. I'm me, this subject kills me. Faint-hearted boy, arise, have looked. upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what a cursed hand hath made thee handless in thy father's sight. What fool hath added water to the sea, or brought a faggot to bright burning thrice. My grief was at the height before thou camest, and now, like Nylas, disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands, too, for they have fought for Rome and all in vain, and they have nursed this woe in feeding life. In bootless prayers,

Where have they been held up, and they have served me to effectless use? Now all the service I require of them is that one will help to cut the other. It is well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands. For hands to do Rome service are but vain. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyred thee? Oh, that delightful engine of her thoughts that blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, where, like a sweet melodious bird, It sung sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.

O say thou for her, who hath done this deed? Oh, thus I found her, straying in the park, seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer that hath received some unrecuring wound. It was my dear, and he that wounded her hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead. For now I stand as one upon a rock, invirond with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow, wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone, here stands my other son, a banished man, and here my brother weeping at my woes.

But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. had I but seen thy picture in this plight It would have madded me What shall I do? Now I behold thy lively body so Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyred thee Thy husband he is dead

And for his death Their brothers are condemned and dead by this Look, Marcus Our son Lucius look on her When I did name her brothers then fresh tears stood upon her cheeks as doth the honey-dew upon a gathered lily almost withered. Perchance, she weeps because they killed her husband, perchance, because she knows them innocent. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, because the law hath tain revenge on them.

No, no, they would not do so foul a deed. Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips. Or make some sign. how I may do thee ease, shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius, and thou and I sit round about some fountain, looking all downwards to behold our cheeks, how they are stained as meadows yet not dry, with miry slime left on them by a flood, and in the fountain shall we gaze so long, till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, and made a brine pit with our bitter tears,

or shall we cut away our hands like thine, or shall we bite our tongues and in dumb shows past the remainder of our hateful days? What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues plot some device of further misery to make us wandered at in times to come.

Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief, see how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. Ah, Marcus, Marcus, brother, well I wot, thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, for thou, poor man, hast drowned it with thine own. Ah, my lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Mark, Marcus, Mark, I understand her signs. Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say that to her brother which I said to thee, his napkin, with his true tears all be wet, can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. Oh, what a sympathy of woe is this. As far from help as limbo is from bliss.

Enter Aaron. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons, let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, or any one of you, chop off your hand, and send it to the king. He for the same will send thee hither both thy sons alive, and that shall be the ransom for their fault. O gracious emperor, oh gentle, Aaron, did ever raven sing so like a lark that gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? With all my heart I'll send the emperor my hand. Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? stay father for that noble hand of thine that hath thrown down so many enemies shall not be sent my hand will serve the turn my youth can better spare my blood than you and therefore mine shall save my brother's lives which of your hands hath not defended rome and reared aloft the bloody battle-axe writing destruction on the enemy's castle oh none of both but are of high desert my hand hath been but idle let it serve to ransom my two nephews from their death

then have i kept it to a worthy end nay come agree whose hand shall go along for fear they die before their pardon come my hand shall go by heaven it shall not go sirs strive no more such withered herbs as these are meat for plucking up and therefore mine sweet father if i shall be thought thy son let me redeem my brothers both from death and for our father's sake and mother's sake and mother's sake and mother's care. Now let me show a brother's love to thee. Agree between you. I will spare my hand. Then I'll go fetch an axe. But I will use the axe. Exhaunt Lucius and Marcus. Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both. Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. Aside.

If that be cold deceit, I will be honest. And never whilst I live deceive men so. But I'll deceive you in another sort, and that you'll say ere half an hour pass. Cuts off Titus's hand. Re-enter Lucius and Marcus. Now stay your strife. What shall be is dispatched. Gooderan, give his majesty my hand.

Tell him it was a hand that warded him from thousand dangers, bid him bury it. More hath it murdered that let it have. As for my sons, say I account of them as jewels purchased at an easy price. And yet dear too, because I bought it. mine own. I go, Andronicus, and for thy hand, look by and by to have thy sons with thee. Aside.

Their heads, I mean. Oh, how this villainy defat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fools do good and fair men call for grace. Aaron will have his soul black like his face. Exit. Oh, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, and bow this feeble room. to the earth. If any power, pities, wretched tears, to that I call. To Lavinia. What wilt thou kneel with me? Do then, dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers, or with our sighs will breathe the

welkin dim, and stain the sun with fog as sometime clouds when they do hug him in their melting bosoms. O brother, speak with possibilities, and do not break into these deep extremes. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. But yet let reason govern thy lament. If there were reasons for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes.

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth or flow. If the wind's rage does not the sea wax mad, threatening the welkin with his big sworn face, and wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea Hark how her sighs do blow She is the weeping welkin I the earth

Then must my sea Be moved with her size Then must my earth With her continual tears Become a deluge Overflowed and drowned For why My bowels cannot hide her woes

But like a drunkard I must vomit them Then give me leave For losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. Enter a messenger with two heads in a hand. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid for that good hand thou sent's the emperor.

Here are the heads of thy two noble sons, and here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back. Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mocked, that woe is me to think upon thy woes more than remembrance of my father's death. Exit. Now let Hot Etna cool in Sicily, and be my heart an ever-burning hell. These miseries are more than may be born. To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, but sorrow flouted at is double death. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, and yet detested life not shrink thereat,

that ever death should let life bear his name, where life hath no more interest but to breathe. Lavinia kisses Titus. Alas, poor heart. That kiss is comfortless as frozen water to a starved snake. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Now farewell, flattery. Die, Andronicus. Thou dost not slumber. See thy two sons' heads, thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here. banished, son, with this dear sight struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother, I, even like a stony image cold and numb. Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs. Rend off thy silver hair, thy other

hand gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismal sight the closing up of our most wretched eyes. Now is a time to storm. Why art thou still? Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour. Why, I have not another tear to shed. Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, and would usurp upon my watery eyes, and to make them blind with tributary tears.

Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, and threaten me I shall never come to bliss, till all these mischiefs be returned again, even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do. You heavy people circle me about, that I may turn me to each one of you

and swear unto my soul to write your wrongs. The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head, and in this hand the other I will bear. Lavinia, thou shalt be employed. These arms. Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between my teeth. As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight.

Thou art an exile and there must not stay. High to the Goths and raise an army there. And if you love me as I think you do, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. Exaunt Titus, Marcus and Lavinia. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father. Thou woefulest man that ever lived in Rome. Farewell, proud Rome,

to Lucius come again. He lives his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister. O would thou wert as thou tofore hast been? But now, nor Lucius nor Lovina lives, but in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs, and make proud Saturnine,

and his empress beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths and raise a power to be revenged on Rome and saturnine. Exit. End of Act 3, Scene 1. Act 3, Scene 2. A room in Titus's house. A banquet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Slovenia, and young Lucius, a boy. So, so, now sit, and look you eat no more, then we'll preserve just so much strength in us, as will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus, unknit that sorrow either not. Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,

and cannot passinate our tenfold grief with folded arms. This poor right hand of mine is left to tyrannize upon my breast, who when my heart, all mad with misery, beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, then thus I thump it down. To Lavinia. thou map of woe that thus dost talk in signs. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans, or get some little knife between thy teeth, and just against thy heart make thou a whole,

that all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall may run into that sink, and soaking in, drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. Fie, brother, Fie. Teach her not thus to lay such violent hands upon her tender life. How now has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands?

To bid aneus tell the tale twice o'er, Our Troy was burnt, and he made miserable. O, handle not the theme to talk of hands, lest we remember still that we have none. Fie, fie, how frantically I square my talk. As if we should forget we had no hands, if Marcus did not name the word of hands. Come, let's fall to, and gentle girl, eat this.

Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says. She says she drinks No other drink but tears Brood from her sorrow Meshed upon her cheeks Speechless complainer I will learn thy thought

In thy dumb action Will I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers Thou shalt not sigh Nor hold thy stumps to heaven Nor wink Nor nod nor kneel Nor make a sign

But I of these will rest an alphabet And by still practice learn to know thy meaning. Good grandsire, leave these bitter, deep laments. Make my aunt Mary with some pleasing tale. Alas, the tender boy in passion moved, doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. Peace, tender sapling, thou art made of tears,

and tears will quickly melt thy life away. Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? At that that I have killed, my lord. a fly out on thee murderer thou kill'st my heart mine eyes are cloyed with a view of tyranny a deed of death done on the innocent becomes not titus brother get thee gone i see thou art not for my company alas my lord i have but killed a fly but how if that fly had a father and mother how would he hang his slender gilded wings and buzz lamenting doings in the air poor harmless fly that with his pretty buzzing melody came here to make us marry, and thou hast killed him.

Pardon me, sir. It was a black ill-favored fly, like to the Empress Moore. Therefore I killed him. Oh, oh. Well, then pardon me for reprehending thee, for thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him, flattering myself as if it were the more come hither purposely to poison me there's for thyself that's for tamara assyra yet i think we are not brought so low but that between us we can kill a fly that comes in likeness of a coal-black moor

alas poor man grief hath so wrought on him he takes false shadows for true substances come take away lavinia go with me i'll to thy closet and go read with thee sad stories chanted in the times of old. Come, boy, and go with me. Thy sight is young, and thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle. Exaunt. End of Act 3, Scene 2. End of Act 3. Act 4 of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare.

This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer. please visit Libravox.org. Act four, scene one, 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.

Help, Grand Sire, help! My aunt Lavinia follows me everywhere. I know not why. Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Stand by me, Lucius. Do not fear thine aunt. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

I, when my father was in Rome, she did. What means my niece, Lavinia, by these signs? Fear her not, Lucius, somewhat doth she mean. See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee. Some whither would she have thee go with her? Our boy, Cornelia never with more care read to her sons than she hath read to thee sweet poetry and Tolly's orator. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

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-offed extremity of greets 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 ere 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. Lucius, I will.

Lovinae turns over with her stumps, the books which Lucius has let fall. 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 red and better skilled. Come, and take the choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow till the heavens Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.

Why lift she up her arms and sequenced thus? I think she means that there was more than one confederate in the fact. Aye, more there was, or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Grand sire, tis avid's metamorphoses. My mother gave it me. For love of her that's gone, perhaps she culled it from among the rest. 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 terius treason and his rape. And rape, I fear, was root of thine anoi. See, brother, see. Note how she quotes the leaves.

Lavinia, would thou thus surprised, sweet girl, ravished and wronged as philomela was, Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods, see, see, aye, such a place there is where we did hunt. Oh, had we never, never hunted there, patterned by that the poet here describes, by nature made for murders and for rapes. Oh, why should nature build so foul a den, unless the gods delethe? light in tragedies. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends. What Roman lord it was dost do the deed. Or slunk not Saturnine as Tarquin erst that left the camp to sin in Lucre's bed.

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 discovered 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, Oh, do you read, my lord, What she hath writ?

Stuprum, Keron, Demetreus. What? What? The lustful sons of Tamora, Performers of this heinous bloody deed? Magnetor Poli, Tomlentus Arbis Scala. Tomlentus Vides.

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 awful fear and father of that chased dishonored dame,

Lord Junius Brutus swear for Lucretia's rape, that we will prosecute by good advice mortal revenge upon these traitorous goths, and see their blood, or die with this reproach. It is sure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt these bear whelps, 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?

I say, my lord, that if I were a man, their mother's bedchamber should not be safe for these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Aye, that's my boy. Thy father hath full oft for his ungrateful country done the like. And uncle, so will I, and if I live. Come go with me into mine armour, Lucius Alfithee, and with all my boy shalt carry from me to the emperor's sons, presents that I intend to send them both. Come, come, now to do my message, wilt thou not? Aye, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. No, boy, not so. I'll teach thee another course.

Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house. Lucius and I'll go braver at the court. Aye, merry will we, sir, and we'll be waited on. Exaunt Titus, Lavinia, and young Lucius. Oh, 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 Fulman's marks upon his battered shield,

But yet so just that he will not revenge. Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus. Exit. End of Act 4, Scene 1. Act 4, Scene 2. The same. A room in the palace. Enter, from one side, Aaron, Demetrius, and Kieran.

From the other side, young Lucius, and an attendant. with a bundle of weapons and verses writ upon them. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius. He hath some message to deliver us. Aye, some mad message from his mad grandfather. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honors from Andronicus. Aside. And pray the Roman gods confound you both.

Grim mercy, lovely Lucius, what's the news? Aside. That you are both deciphered, that's the news. for villains marked with rape. May it please you, my grand sire, well-advised, hath sent by me the goodliest weapons of his armory to gratify your honorable 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 armid and appointed well, and so I leave you both. Aside. Like bloody villains. Exaunt young Lucius in attendant. What's here? A scroll and written roundabout? Let's see.

Reads. Integrity, Sceleriske puris, non-Aegit Maori Jaculus, Nacarku. Oh, tis averse in Horus. I know it well. I read it in the grammar long ago. I just, a verse in Horus. 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, she would applaud Andronicus conceit, but let her rest in her unrest a while. And now, young lords, whilst not a happy star led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, captives, to be advanced into this height, it did. me good before the palace gate to brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. But me more good to see so great a lord basely insinuate and send us gifts. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? I would we had a thousand Roman dames at such a bay by turn to serve our lust.

A charitable wish and full of love. Here lacks but your mother for to say, amen. And that would she for 20,000 more. Come, let us go, and pray to all the gods for our beloved mother in her pains. Aside. Pray to the devils. The gods have given us over. Trumpets sound within. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus?

Be like for joy the emperor hath a son. Soft, who comes here? Enter a nurse with a blackamore child in her arms. Good morrow, lords. Oh, tell me, did you see Aaron the moor? Well, more or less, or narrow wit at all, here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now? O gentle Aaron, we are all undone, now help, or woe be tied thee evermore. Why, what a catawalling dost thou keep? What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? O that which I would hide from heaven's eye, our empress's shame and stately rome's disgrace.

She is delivered, lords, she is delivered. To whom? I mean she is brought a bed. Well, God give her good rest. What hath he sent her? A devil. Why, then, she is the devil's damn, a joyful issue. A joyless, dismal black and sorrowful issue.

Here is the babe, as loaths him as a toad amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, and bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. Zounds, your whore. Is black so base a hue? Sweet blows, you'll. You are a beauteous blossom, sure. Villain, what hast thou done?

That which thou canst not undo. Thou hast undone our mother. Villan, I have done thy mother. And therein hellish dog thou hast undone. Woe to her chance and damned her loathed choice! A cursed the offspring of so foul a fiend. It shall not live. It shall not die.

Aaron it must. The mother wills it so. What, must it, Nurse? Then let no man but I do execution on my flesh and blood? I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point. Nurse, give it me. My sword shall soon dispatch it. Sooner this sword shall plow thy bowels up. Takes the child from the nurse and draws.

Stay, murderous villains. Will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, that shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point that touches this my first-born son and heir. I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus with all his threatening band of typhans brood, nor great Alcides, nor the god of war shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys, ye white-lined walls, ye alehouse-painted signs.

Coal black is better than another hue, in that it scorns to bear another hue, for all the water in the ocean can never turn the swans' black legs to white, although she laved them hourly in the flood. Tell the empress from me, I am of age to keep mine own, excuse it how she can. Will thou betray thy noble mistress thus? My mistress is my mistress, this myself. The vigor and the picture of my, 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. By this our mother is forever shamed. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. I blush to think upon this ignom me. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears.

"'Fie, treacherous hue that will betray with blushing, "'the close enacts and counsels of the 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. Aaron, what shall I say unto the Empress? 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. 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. How many women saw this child of his? Why so, brave lords, when we join in league, I am a lamb. But if you brave the more, the chafed-bore, the mountain lioness, the ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. But say again, how many saw the child? Cornelia, the midwife, and myself, and no one else but the delivered empress.

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 the nurse. Weak, week, so cries a pig prepared to the spit. What means thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this? O Lord, 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 moolly lives, 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 dandel him for his own. Archie lords, ye 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. Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air with secrets. For this care of Tamara, herself and hers are highly bound to thee.

Exalt Demetrius and Kiran bearing off the nurse's body. 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 feed on curds and weigh, and suck the goat,

and cabin in a cave and bring you up to be a warrior and command a camp. Exit. End of Act 4, Scene 2. Act 4, Scene 3. The same. A public place. Enter Titus, bearing arrows with letters at the ends of them. With him, Marcus, Young Lucius, Publius, Simpronius, Caius, and other gentlemen with bows.

Come, Marcus, come, kinsmen, this is the way. Sir, boy, now let me see your archery. look ye draw home enough And tis there straight Terras, Ostraia Reliquite 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 Sampronius You must do it,

Tis you must dig with Maddock 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 all 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 kinsman then we may go pipe for justice o publius is not this a heavy case to see thy noble uncle thus distract 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 care

Remedy. Kinsman, His sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war, take wreck on Rome for this ingratitude, and vengeance upon the traitor Saturnine. Publius, how now, how now, my masters? What have you met with her? No, my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word. If you will have revenge from hell, you shall.

Mary, for justice she is so employed. He thinks, with Joven heaven, or, somewhere else, so that for force you must need stay a time. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below and pull her out of Ackern by the heels. Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we, no big-boned men frame it 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 Jovum that's for you Here add apollonym At modem that's for myself

Here boy to palace Here to Mercury To Saturn Caius Not to saturn "'You are as good to shoot against the wind. "'Do it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid. "'Of my word I have written to effect, "'there's not a guard left unsolicited.'

"'Kinsman, shoot all your shafts into the court. "'We will afflict the emperor in his pride. "'Now, masters, draw.' "'They shoot. "'Oh, well said, Lucius. "'Good boy, in Virgo's lap. "'Give it palace. "'My lord, I aim a mild,

beyond the moon. Your letter is with Jupiter by this. Hapha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus horns. 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 more he should not choose but give them to his master, for a present. 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 has come. Sirah, what tidings? Have you any letters? Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter? Oh, the gibbit maker. He says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter. I never drank with him in all my life. Why, Villan, art thou not the carrier?

Aye, of my pigeons, sir, nothing else. Why didst thou not come from heaven? 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 the matter of brawl between my uncle and one of the imperial's men. 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.

Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor? Emperor with a grace. Nay, truly, sir, I can never say grace in all my life. Sir, 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.

Sir, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? Aye, sir. 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 him. up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir. See you do it bravely. I warrant you, sir, let me alone. Sir, 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. God be with you, sir. I will. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. End of Act 4, Scene 3. Act 4, Scene 4. The same, before the palace. Enter Saturnius, Tamara, Demetrius, Kiran, Lords, and others. Saternius with the arrows in his hand that Titus shot. Why, lords, what wrongs are these?

Was ever seen an empire in Rome, thus overborne, troubled, confronted us. And for the extent of legal justice used in such content. My lords, you know as know the mindful gods, however this disturbers of our peace. Buzz in the people's ears, they're not had passed, but even with law, against a willful sons of old Antronicus. And what end? If his sorrows have so overwhelmed his weeds, shallow biters afflicted in his wrecks, his feats, his frangy, and his bitterness. And now he writes to heaven for his redress.

See, here is to Job, and this to Mercury, this to Apollo, this to the God of War, so it scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome. What is this but levelling against the Senate, and blazoning our injustice everywhere? A goodly humour is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice were? But if I leave, his faint ecstasies shall be no shelter to these outraged. to these outrages. But he and he shall know

that just his leaves in Saturninus' hells, whom if he's sleep, he will so awake as see in fury shell cut off the proudest conspirator that leaves. My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, call me, and bear the faults of Titus age, the effects of sorrow for his valiant sons,

whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarred his heart, and rather comfort his distressed plight, then prosecute the meanest or the best for these contempts. Aside, Why thus it shall become high-witted Tamara to glows with all. But Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out. If Aron now be wise, then all is safe,

The anchors in the port. Enter Clown. How now, good fellow? Which thou speak with us? Yea, forsooth, and your ministership be imperial. Empress, I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Tis he. God and St. Stephen give you good den. I have brought you a letter in a couple of pidgeots here. Caternius reads the letter. Go, take him away, and hang him presently.

How much money must I have? Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. Hanged? By a lady, then, I have brought up a neck to a fair end. Exit, guarded. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs, shall I endure this monstrous villainy. I know from once this same device proceeds. May this be born.

As if his traitor of sons that died by love or murder of our brother, have by my means been butchered wrongfully. Go drag the villain-heater by the hair. Nor rage nor honor shall shape privilege. For this proud mark, will be thy slaughter man. Sly frantic wretch that halpsed

to make me great, in hope thy self should govern Rome and me. Enter Amelius. What news with the Amelius? Arm, my lord! Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gathered head, and with the power, high-resorved men

bent to the spoil, they hither march amain, under conduct of Lucius, son to old Andronicus, who threats in the course of this revenge to do as much as ever Coriolanus did. He's were like Lucius General of the Guards. These tidings need me, and I hanged ahead as flowers with frost or grass bit down with storms. Aye, now begin our sorrows to approach.

It is he the common people love so much. Myself, I'd often overheard them say, when I have walked like a private man, that Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, and they have wished that Lucius were their emperor. Why should you fear? Is not your city strong? Aye, but the citizens favour Lucius, and will revolt from me to succour him.

King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name. Is the sun dimmed that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, and is not careful what they mean thereby. knowing that with the shadow of his wings he cannot pleasure stint their melody. Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. Then cheer thy spirit, for know thou emperor I will enchant the old Andronicus With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous than baits to fish, or honeystocks to sheep,

when as the one is wounded with the bait, the other rotted with delicious feed. But he will not entreat his son for us. If Tamara entreat him, then he will. For I can smooth and fill his aged ear with golden promises, that were his heart almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. To Amelius. Go thou before, be our ambassador,

say that the emperor requests a parley of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. Amelius, do this message honorably. And if he stand on hostage for his safety, bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

Your bidding shall I do effectually. Exit. Now will I to that old Andronicus and temper him with all the art I have to pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now sweet emperor be blithe again,

and bury all thy fear in my devices. Then go succinctly and plead to him. Exhaunt. End of Act 4, Scene 4. End of Act 4. Act 5 of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Five scene one, Plains near Rome. Enter Lucius with an army of Goths, with drum and colors. Approved warriors and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome which signify what hate they bear their emperor, and how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be as your title's witness, imperious and impatient of your wrongs, and wherein Rome have done you any scath, let him make treble satisfaction. Brave slip sprung from the great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,

Whose high exploits and honourable deeds in grateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us, We'll follow where thou leadst, Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, Led by their master to the flowered fields, And be avenged on cursed Tamara. As he saith, so say we all with him. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

But who comes here led by a lusty goth? Enter a goth leading Aaron with his child in his arms. Renowned Elusius, from our troops I strayed to gaze upon a ruinous monastery. And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath the wall. I made unto the noise, when soon I heard the crying bay, controlled with this discourse. Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy damn. Did not thy Hugh Beret, whose brat thou art, had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, villain, thou mightst have

been an emperor. But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, they never do begat a coal-black calf. Peace, villain, peace! Even thus he rates the babe. For I must bear thee to a trusty goth. Who, when he knows thou art the empress babe, will hold thee dearly for, thy mother's sake. With this, my weapon drawn, I rushed upon him, surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither, to use as you think needful of the man. O worthy goff, this is the incarnate devil that robbed Andronicus of his good hand. This is the pearl that pleased your empress eye. And here's the base fruit of his burning lust, say war-eyed slave. Whither wouldst thou convey this growing image of thy fiend-like face?

Why does not speak? What death? Not a word? A halter soldiers. Hang him on this tree. And by his side his fruit of bastardy. Touch not the boy. He is of royal blood. Too like the sire for ever being good. First hang the child that he may see its sprawl. A sight to vex the father's soul withal. Get me a ladder. A ladder brought which Aaron is made to ascend. Lucius, save the child and bear it from me to me to the last. the Empress. If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things that highly may advantage thee to hear. If thou wilt not befall what may befall, I'll speak no more but vengeance rot you all. Say on, and if it please me which thou speaks, thy child shall live, and I will see it nourished.

And if it please thee, why assure thee, Lucius, twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak, For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres, acts of black knight, abominable deeds, complots of mischief, treason, villainies ruthless to hear yet piteously performed, and this shall all be buried by my death, unless thou swear to me my child shall live. Tell on my mind, I say thy child shall live. Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. Who should I swear by? Thou believest no God.

That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? What if I do not? As indeed I do not. Yet for I know thou art religious, and hast a thing within thee called conscience, with twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, which I have seen thee careful to observe. Therefore I urge thy oath,

For that I know an idiot holds his bobble for a god, and keeps the oath which by that God he swears, to that I'll urge him. Therefore thou shalt vow by that same God, what God so are it be that thou adorest and hast in reverence, to save my boy, to nourish and bring him up, or else I will discover naught to thee. Even by my God I swear to thee I will. First, know thou, I begot him on the empress. Oh, most insatiate and luxurious woman! "'Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity, to that which thou shalt hear of me anon.

"'Twas her two sons that murdered Bacianus. "'They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravished her, and cut her hands, and trimmed her as thou sawst. "'Oh, detestable villain, callst thou that trimming?' "'Why, she was washed and cut and trimmed, and twas trim sport for them that had the doing of it. "'Oh, my. Barbarous, beastly villains like thyself! Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them. That codding spirit had they from their mother,

As sure a card as ever won the set. That bloody mind, I think they learned of me, As true a dog as ever fought at head. Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. I trained thy brethren to that guileful hole, Where the dead corpse of Bacianus lay. I wrote the letter that thy feet, father found, and hid the gold within the letter mentioned, Confederate with the queen and her two

sons. And what not done that thou hast caused to rue wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I played the cheater for thy father's hand, and, when I had it, drew myself apart, and almost broke my heart with extreme laughter. I pried me through the crevice of a wall, when for his hand he had his two sons' heads, beheld his tears and laughed so heartily that both mine eyes were rainy-like to his. And when I told the empress of this sport, she swooned almost at my pleasing tale,

and for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. What, canst thou say all this and never blush? Aye, like a black dog, as the saying is. Aren't thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day, and yet I think few come within the compass of my curse. Wherein I did not some notorious ill, as kill a man or else devise his death, ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, accuse some innocent and forswear myself, set deadly enmity between two friends, make poor men's cattle break their necks,

set fire on barns and haystacks in the night, and bid the owners quench them with their tears. oft have I digged up dead men from their graves and set them upright at their dear friend's doors, even when their sorrows almost were forgot, and on their skins, as on the bark of trees, have with my knife carved in Roman letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. Tutt! I have done a thousand dreadful things, as well. willingly as one would kill a fly, and nothing grieves me heartily indeed, but that I cannot do ten thousand more.

Bring down the devil, for he must not die, so sweet a death as hanging presently. If there be devils, would I were a devil, to live and burn in everlasting fire, so I might have your company in hell, but to torment you with my bitter tongue. Sir, stop his mouth and let him speak no more. Enter a goth. My lord, there is a messenger from Rome. Desires to be admitted to your presence. Let him come near.

Enter Amelius. Welcome, Amelius. What's the news from Rome? The Lord Lucius, a new princess of the Goths. The Roman emperor greets you all by me, and, for he understands you are in arms, he craves a parley at your father's house, willing you to demand,

your hostages and they shall be immediately delivered. What says our general? E. Emilius, let the emperor give his pledges unto my father and my uncle Marcus, and we will come. March away. Exaunt. End of Act 5, Scene 1. Act 5, Scene 2.

Rome, before Titus's house. Enter Tamara, Demetrius and Kiran disguised. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment I will encounter with Andronicus, and say, I am revenge, sent from below to join with him and write his heinous wrongs. Knock at his study, where they say he keeps to ruminate strange plots of dire revenge. Tell him, revenge is come to join with him and work confusion on his enemies. They knock. Enter Titus above.

Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me open the day? door that so my sad decrees may fly away, and all my study be to no effect. You are deceived. For what I mean to do, see here in bloody lines I have set down, and what is written shall be executed. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. No, not a word. How can I grace my talk, wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst talk with me.

I am not mad. I know thee well enough. Witness this wretched stump. Witness these crimson lines. Witness these trenches made by grief and care. Witness the tiring day and heavy night. Witness all sorrow that I know thee well, for our proud empress, mighty Tamara.

Is not thy coming for my other hand? No, thou sad man, I am not Tamara. She is thy enemy, and I thy friend. I am revenge, sent from the infernal kingdom to ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, by working wreckful vengeance on thy foes. Come down, and welcome me to this world's light. Confer with me of murder and of death. There's not a hollow cave or lurking place, no vast obscurity or misty veil, where bloody murder or detested rape can couch for fear, but I will find them out, and in their ears tell them my dreadful name, revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.

Ought thou revenge, and art thou sent to me to be a torment to mine enemies? I am. Therefore come down and welcome me. Do me some service ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where rape and murder stand. Now give me some assurance that thou art revenge. Stab them or tear them on thy chariot wheels, and then I'll come and be thy waggoner, and whirl along with thee about the globe. Provide thee two proper porphy's black as yet to hail thy ventral waggoner. swift away and find out murderers in their guilty caves. And when thy car is loaded with their heads, I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel, trot like a servile footman all day long, even from Hyperians rising in the east, until his very downfall in the sea.

And day by day I'll do this heavy task. So thou destroy rapine and murder there. These are my ministers, and come with me. Are these thy ministers? What are they called? Rapine and murder. Therefore call it so, cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. Good Lord, how like the Empress sons they are, and you the Empress,

but we worldly men have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. O sweet revenge, now do I come to thee, and if one arm's embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by. Exit above. This closing with him for, fits his lunacy. What air I've forged to feed his brain-sick fits, do you uphold and maintain in your speeches? For now he firmly takes me for revenge. And being credulous in this mad thought,

I'll make him send for Lucius his son. And whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I'll find some cunning practice out of hand to scatter and disperse the giddy goths, or at the least make them his enemies. See where he comes. and I must ply my theme. Enter Titus below. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee. Welcome, dread fury, to my woeful house. Rapine and murder, you are welcome, too.

How like the Empress and her sons you are. Well are you fitted, had you but a moor. Could not all hell afford ye such a devil? For well I wot the Empress never wags, but in her company there is a moor. And would he represent our queen a right? it were convenient you had such a devil but welcome as you are

what shall we do? What would thou have us do, Andronicus? Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. Show me a villain that hath done a rape and I am sent to be revenged on him. Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong and I will be revenged on them all.

Look round about the wicked streets of Rome and when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, good murder, stab him, he's a murderer. Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap, to find another that is like to thee, good rapine, stab him, he's a ravisher. Go thou with them.

And in the emperor's court, there is a queen attended by a moor. Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, for up and down she doth resemble thee. I pray thee, do on them some violent death. They have been violent to me and mine. Well, hast thou lessened us, this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus,

To send for Lucius thy thrice valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house. When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her son, the Emperor himself and all thy foes, And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart.

What says, Andronicus, to this device? Marcus, my brother, tis sad Titus calls. Enter Marcus. Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius. There shalt inquire him out among the Goths. Bitt him repair to me, and bring with him some of the chiefest princes of the Goths. Bid him and camp his soldiers where they are.

Tell him the emperor and the empress too, feast at my house, and he shall feast with them. This do thou for my love, and so let him, as he regards his aged father's life. This will I do, and soon return again. Exit. Now will I hence about thy business, and take my ministers along with me.

Nay, nay, let rape and be. murder stay with me, or else I'll call my brother back again, and cleave to no revenge but Lucius. A sigh to her sons. What say you, boys? Will you bide with him while I go tell my lord the emperor how I have governed our determined jest? Yield to his humor, smooth and speak him fair, and tarry with him till I turn again. Aside. I know them all, although they suppose me mad, and will all reach them in their own devices, a pen, of cursed hellhounds and their dam.

Madam, depart at pleasure. Leave us here. Farewell, Andronicus. Revenge now goes to lay a complot to betray thy foes. I know thou dost on sweet revenge, farewell. Exit Tamara. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employed? Tart, I have work enough for you to do. Puglius, come hither.

Caius and Valentine. Enter Puglius and others. When is your will? Know you these two. The Empress sons, I take them, Kieran and Demetrius. Fai, Publius, Fai, thou art too much deceived. The one is murder, rape is the other's name, and therefore bind them, gentle Publius.

Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. Often have you heard me wish for such an hour, and now I find it, therefore bind them sure, and stop their mouths if they begin to cry. Exit. Publius lay hold on Kieran and Demetrius. Villains forbear! We are the Empress's sons!

And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths. Let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? Look that you bind them fast. Re-enter Titus with Lavinia, he bearing a knife and she a basin. Come, come, Lavinia, look.

Thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths. Let them not speak to me, but let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Kieran and Demetrius, here stands the spring whom you have stained with mud, this goodly summer with your winter mixed. You killed her husband, and for that vile fault, two of her brothers were condemned to death. My hand cut off and made a merry jest. Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear than hands or tongue,

her spotless chastity, inhuman traders you constrained and forced. What would you say if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame, you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, whilst that lavinia between her stumps doth hold the basin that receives your guilty blood. You know your mother means to feast with me, and calls herself revenge, and thinks me mad.

hark villains i will grind your bones to dust and with your blood and it i'll make a paste and of the paste or coffin i will rear and make two pasties of your shameful heads and bid that strumpet your unhallowed dam like to the earth swallow her own increase this is the feast that i have bid her to and this the banquet she shall surf it on for worse than philomel you used my daughter and worse than prokney i will be revenged and now prepare your throats lavinia come he cuts their throats receive the blood and when that they are dead let me go grind their bones to powder small and with this hateful liquor temperate and in that paste let the vial heads be baked. Come, come, be everyone officious to make this banquet, which I wish may prove more stern and bloody than the centaur's feast. So now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, and see them ready against their mother comes. Exaunt bearing the dead bodies. End of Act 5, Scene 2. Act 5, Scene 3, Court of Titus's house, a banquet set out. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner. uncle marcus since it is my father's mind that i repair to rome i am content and ours with thine befall what fortune will good uncle take you in this barbarous maw this ravenous tiger this accursed devil

let him receive no sustenance fetter him till he be brought unto the empress's face for testimony of her foul proceedings and see the ambush of our friends be strong i fear the emperor means no good to us Some devil, whisper curses in mine ear, and prompt me that my tongue may utter forth the venomous malice of my swelling heart. Away inhuman dog, unhallowed slave, sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. Exaunt Goths with Aaron flourish within. The trumpet show the emperor is at hand. Enter Saturnius and Tamara with Amelius. What? At the far moment more sons than one. What booted thee to call thyself a son?

Rome's emperor and nephew break the parl. These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus hath ordained to an honorable end, for peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome. Please you, therefore, draw nigh and take your places. Marcus, we will. Hot boy sound. The company sit down at table.

Enter Titus dressed like a cook. Lavinia veiled, young Lucius and others. Titus places the dishes on the table. Welcome, my gracious Lord, welcome Dred Queen. Welcome, me, warlike Goths. Welcome Lucius, and welcome all. Although the cheer be poor, it will fill your stomachs, please you eat of it. Why art thou dare, Andronicus?

Because I would be sure to have all well, to entertain your highness and your empress. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. And if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this. Was it well done of Rash Virginius? To slay his daughter with his own right hand, because she was enforced, stained, and deflowered. It was, Andronicus.

Your reason, mighty lord. Because the girl should not survive our saying, and by her presence still renew his sorrows. A reason mighty, strong and effectual. A pattern, precedent, and lively war. for me most wretched to perform the like die die lavinia and thy shame with thee kills levinia and with thy shame thy father's sorrow die what hast thou done unnatural and unkind killed her for whom my tears have made me blind i am as woeful as virginius was and have a thousand times more cause than he to do this outrage and if now is done What was he ravished? Tell who did the deed.

Will it please you eat? Will it please your highness feed? Why hast thou slain thine thine only daughter thus? Not I. It was Kiran and Demetrius. They ravished her and cut away her tongue. And they, it was they that did her all this wrong. Go fetch them heed to us presently. Why, there they are both. Baked in. that pie, whereof their mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.

Tis true, it is true, witness my knife's sharp point. Kills Tamara. Die from the grudge for this accursed deed. Kills Titus. Can the son's eye behold his father's bleed? There's meat for meat, death for a deadly deed. Kill Saturnius, a great tumult. Lucius, Marcus, and others go up into the balcony.

You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, by uproar served like a flight of fowl scattered by winds and high tempestuous gusts. Oh, let me teach you how to knit again this scattered corn into one mutual sheaf, these broken limbs again into one body, lest Rome herself be bane unto herself. And she, whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to, Like a forlorn and desperate castaway do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,

grave witnesses of true experience, cannot induce you to attend my words. To Lucius Speak. Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor. When with solemn tongue he did discourse to love-sick Dido's sad attending ear, the story of that baleful burning night

when subtle Greek surprised King Priam's Troy. Tell us what Sinon hath bewitched our ears. Or who hath brought the fatal engine in that gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound? My heart is not compact of flint nor steel. Nor can I utter all our bitter grief. But floods of tears will drown my oratory and break my utterance, even in the time when it should move you to attend me most, lending your kind commiseration. Here is a captain. Let him tell the tale. Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. their noble auditory be it known to you that cursed kieran and demetrius were they that murdered our emperor's brother and they it were that ravished our sister for their fell faults our brothers were beheaded

our father's tears despised and basely cousined of that true hand that fought rome's quarrel out and sent her enemies unto the grave lastly myself unkindly banished the gates shut on me and turned weeping out to beg relief among Rome's enemies, who drowned their enmity in my true tears, and hoped their arms to embrace me as a friend, I am the turned forth, be it known to you, that have preserved her welfare in my blood, and from her bosom took the enemy's point, sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. Alas! You know I am no vaunt, I. My scars can witness, dumb although they are, that my report is just and full of truth, but soft. Methinks I do digress too much, citing my worthless praise. Or pardon me, for when no friends are by, men praise themselves.

Now it is my turn to speak. Behold this child. Pointing to the child in the arms of an attendant. Of this was Tamora delivered, the issue of an irreligious moor. Chief architect and plotter of these woes, the villain is alive in Titus' house. And as he is, to witness this is true. Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge these wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,

or more than any living man could bear. Now you have heard the truth. What say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss? Show us wherein. And from the place where you behold us now, the poor remainder of Andronicy, will hand in hand, all headlong cast us down, and on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, and make a mutual closure of our house.

Speak, Romans, speak. And if you say we shall, lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. Come, come, thou reverent bad of Rome, and bring our emperor gently in thy hand. Lucius, our emperor, for well I know, the common voice do cry, it shall be so. Lucius, all hail. Rome's royal emperor. Go. Go into Old Titus' sorrowful house. To attendants.

And hither hail that misbelieving more to be adjudged some direful, slaughtering death, as punishment for his most wicked life. Exaunt attendance. Lucius Marcus and the others descend. Lucius. All hail. Rome's gracious governor. Thanks, gentle Romans.

May I govern so to heal Rome's harms and wipe away her woe. But gentle people, give me aim a while, for nature puts me to a heavy task. Stand all aloof, but uncle draw you near to shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips. Kissing Titus These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stained face, the last true duties of thy noble son. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss. thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips,

O were the sum of these that I should pay, Countless and infinite, Yet would I pay them. Come hither boy. Come, come, come and learn of us to melt in showers. Thy grandsire loved thee well. Many a time he danced thee on his knee, sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow.

Many a matter hath he told to thee, meet and agreeing with thine infancy. In that respect, then, like a loving child, shed yet some small drops for thy tender spring, because kind nature doth require it so. Friends should associate friends in grief and woe. Pit him farewell. Commit him to the grave.

Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. Oh, grandsire, grand sire, even with all my heart would i were dead so you did live again oh lord i cannot speak to him for weeping my tears will choke me if i open my mouth re-enter attendance with aaroni you sad andronichie have done with woes give sentence on his execrable wretch that hath been breeder of these dire events said him breast-deep in earth and famish him there let him stand and rave and cry for food if anyone relieves or pities him for the offence he dies. This is our doom. Some stay to see him fastened in the earth. Oh, why should wrath be mute and fury dumb?

I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done. Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did, would I perform if I might have my will? If one good deed in all my life I did, i do repent it from my very soul some loving friends convey the emperor hent and give him burial in his father's grave my father and lavinia shall forthwith be closed in our household's monument as for that heinous tiger tamara no funeral rite nor man in morning weeds no mournful bell shall wring her burial but throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey her life was beast-like and avoid of piety, and being so shall have like want of pity. See justice done on Aaron, that damned more, by whom our heavy haps had their beginning, then afterwards to order well the state that like events may ne'er it ruinate.

Exaunt. End of Act 5, Scene 3. End of Act 5. End of Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. Thank you.