Part 19

Tit. Good Lord how like the Empresse Sons they are, And you the Empresse: But we worldly men, Haue miserable mad mistaking eyes: Oh sweet Reuenge, now do I come to thee, And if one armes imbracement will content thee, I will imbrace thee in it by and by

Tam. This closing with him, fits his Lunacie, What ere I forge to feede his braine-sicke fits, Do you vphold, and maintaine in your speeches, For now he firmely takes me for Reuenge, And being Credulous in this mad thought, Ile make him send for Lucius his Sonne, And whil'st I at a Banquet hold him sure, Ile find some cunning practise out of hand To scatter and disperse the giddie Gothes, Or at the least make them his Enemies: See heere he comes, and I must play my theame

Tit. Long haue I bene forlorne, and all for thee, Welcome dread Fury to my woefull house, Rapine and Murther, you are welcome too, How like the Empresse and her Sonnes you are. Well are you fitted, had you but a Moore, Could not all hell afford you such a deuill? For well I wote the Empresse neuer wags; But in her company there is a Moore, And would you represent our Queene aright It were conuenient you had such a deuill: But welcome as you are, what shall we doe? Tam. What would'st thou haue vs doe Andronicus? Dem. Shew me a Murtherer, Ile deale with him

Chi. Shew me a Villaine that hath done a Rape, And I am sent to be reueng'd on him

Tam. Shew me a thousand that haue done thee wrong, And Ile be reuenged on them all

Tit. Looke round about the wicked streets of Rome, And when thou find'st a man that's like thy selfe, Good Murder stab him, hee's a Murtherer. Goe thou with him, and when it is thy hap To finde another that is like to thee, Good Rapine stab him, he is a Rauisher. Go thou with them, and in the Emperours Court, There is a Queene attended by a Moore, Well maist thou know her by thy owne proportion, For vp and downe she doth resemble thee. I pray thee doe on them some violent death, They haue bene violent to me and mine

Tam. Well hast thou lesson'd vs, this shall we do. But would it please thee good Andronicus, To send for Lucius thy thrice Valiant Sonne, Who leades towards Rome a Band of Warlike Gothes, And bid him come and Banquet at thy house. When he is heere, euen at thy Solemne Feast, I will bring in the Empresse and her Sonnes, The Emperour himselfe, and all thy Foes, And at thy mercy shall they stoop, and kneele, And on them shalt thou ease, thy angry heart: What saies Andronicus to this deuise? Enter Marcus.

Tit. Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls, Go gentle Marcus to thy Nephew Lucius, Thou shalt enquire him out among the Gothes, Bid him repaire to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest Princes of the Gothes, Bid him encampe his Souldiers where they are, Tell him the Emperour, and the Empresse too, Feasts at my house, and he shall Feast with them, This do thou for my loue, and so let him, As he regards his aged Fathers life

Mar. This will I do, and soone returne againe

Tam. Now will I hence about thy businesse, And take my Ministers along with me

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or els Ile call my Brother backe againe, And cleaue to no reuenge but Lucius

Tam. What say you Boyes, will you bide with him, Whiles I goe tell my Lord the Emperour, How I haue gouern'd our determined iest? Yeeld to his Humour, smooth and speake him faire, And tarry with him till I turne againe

Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will ore-reach them in their owne deuises, A payre of cursed hell-hounds and their Dam

Dem. Madam depart at pleasure, leaue vs heere

Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy Foes

Tit. I know thou doo'st, and sweet reuenge farewell

Chi. Tell vs old man, how shall we be imploy'd? Tit. Tut, I haue worke enough for you to doe, Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine

Pub. What is your will? Tit. Know you these two? Pub. The Empresse Sonnes I take them, Chiron, Demetrius

Titus. Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceau'd, The one is Murder, Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them gentle Publius, Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them, Oft haue you heard me wish for such an houre, And now I find it, therefore binde them sure, Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the Empresse Sonnes

Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded. Stop close their mouthes, let them not speake a word, Is he sure bound, looke that you binde them fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason.

Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound, Sirs stop their mouthes, let them not speake to me, But let them heare what fearefull words I vtter. Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius, Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud, This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt, You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd fault, Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off, and made a merry iest, Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere Then Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity, Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st. What would you say, if I should let you speake? Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace. Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you, This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats, Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold: The Bason that receiues your guilty blood. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me, And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste, And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare, And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads, And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam, Like to the earth swallow her increase. This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to, And this the Banquet she shall surfet on, For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter, And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd, And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small, And with this hatefull Liquor temper it, And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte, Come, come, be euery one officious, To make this Banket, which I wish might proue, More sterne and bloody then the Centaures Feast. He cuts their throats.

So now bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke, And see them ready, gainst their Mother comes.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.

Luc. Vnckle Marcus, since 'tis my Fathers minde That I repair to Rome, I am content

Goth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will