Shakespeare's First Folio Part 482

But let the lawes of Rome determine all, Meane while I am possest of that is mine

Sat. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with vs, But if we liue, weele be as sharpe with you

Ba.s.s. My Lord, what I haue done as best I may, Answere I must, and shall do with my life, Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know, By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This n.o.ble Gentleman Lord t.i.tus heere, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, That in the rescue of Lauinia, With his owne hand did slay his youngest Son, In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath.

To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue: Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine, That hath expre'st himselfe in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome

t.i.t. Prince Ba.s.sia.n.u.s leaue to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and those, that haue dishonoured me, Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge, How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine

Tam. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora, Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine, Then heare me speake indifferently for all: And at my sute (sweet) pardon what is past

Satu. What Madam, be dishonoured openly, And basely put it vp without reuenge?

Tam. Not so my Lord, The G.o.ds of Rome fore-fend, I should be Authour to dishonour you.

But on mine honour dare, I vndertake For good Lord t.i.tus innocence in all: Whose fury not dissembled speakes his griefes: Then at my sute looke graciously on him, Loose not so n.o.ble a friend on vaine suppose, Nor with sowre lookes afflict his gentle heart.

My Lord, be rul'd by me, be wonne at last, Dissemble all your griefes and discontents, You are but newly planted in your Throne, Least then the people, and Patricians too, Vpon a iust suruey take t.i.tus part, And so supplant vs for ingrat.i.tude, Which Rome reputes to be a hainous sinne.

Yeeld at intreats, and then let me alone: Ile finde a day to ma.s.sacre them all, And race their faction, and their familie, The cruell Father, and his trayt'rous sonnes, To whom I sued for my deare sonnes life.

And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene.

Kneele in the streetes, and beg for grace in vaine.

Come, come, sweet Emperour, (come Andronicus) Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart, That dies in tempest of thy angry frowne

King. Rise t.i.tus, rise, My Empresse hath preuail'd

t.i.tus. I thanke your Maiestie, And her my Lord.

These words, these lookes, Infuse new life in me

Tamo. t.i.tus, I am incorparate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily.

And must aduise the Emperour for his good, This day all quarrels die Andronicus.

And let it be mine honour good my Lord, That I haue reconcil'd your friends and you.

For you Prince Ba.s.sia.n.u.s, I haue past My word and promise to the Emperour, That you will be more milde and tractable.

And feare not Lords: And you Lauinia, By my aduise all humbled on your knees, You shall aske pardon of his Maiestie

Son. We doe, And vow to heauen, and to his Highnes, That what we did, was mildly, as we might, Tendring our sisters honour and our owne

Mar. That on mine honour heere I do protest

King. Away and talke not, trouble vs no more

Tamora. Nay, nay, Sweet Emperour, we must all be friends, The Tribune and his Nephews kneele for grace, I will not be denied, sweet hart looke back

King. Marcus, For thy sake and thy brothers heere, And at my louely Tamora's intreats, I doe remit these young mens haynous faults.

Stand vp: Lauinia, though you left me like a churle, I found a friend, and sure as death I sware, I would not part a Batch.e.l.lour from the Priest.

Come, if the Emperours Court can feast two Brides, You are my guest Lauinia, and your friends: This day shall be a Loue-day Tamora

t.i.t. To morrow and it please your Maiestie, To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me, With horne and Hound, Weele giue your Grace Bon iour

Satur. Be it so t.i.tus, and Gramercy to.

Exeunt.

Actus Secunda.

Flourish. Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe, Safe out of Fortunes shot, and sits aloft, Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash, Aduanc'd about pale enuies threatning reach: As when the golden Sunne salutes the morne, And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames, Gallops the Zodiacke in his glistering Coach, And ouer-lookes the highest piering hills: So Tamora Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite, And vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne.

Then Aaron arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Mistris, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fettred in amorous chaines, And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes, Then is Prometheus ti'de to Caucasus.

Away with slauish weedes, and idle thoughts, I will be bright and s.h.i.+ne in Pearle and Gold, To waite vpon this new made Empresse.

To waite said I? To wanton with this Queene, This G.o.ddesse, this Semirimis, this Queene.

This Syren, that will charme Romes Saturnine, And see his s.h.i.+pwracke, and his Common weales.

Hollo, what storme is this?

Enter Chiron and Demetrius brauing.

Dem. Chiron thy yeres wants wit, thy wit wants edge And manners to intru'd where I am grac'd, And may for ought thou know'st affected be

Chi. Demetrius, thou doo'st ouer-weene in all, And so in this, to beare me downe with braues, 'Tis not the difference of a yeere or two Makes me lesse gracious, or thee more fortunate: I am as able, and as fit, as thou, To serue, and to deserue my Mistris grace, And that my sword vpon thee shall approue, And plead my pa.s.sions for Lauinia's loue

Aron. Clubs, clubs, these louers will not keep the peace

Dem. Why Boy, although our mother (vnaduised) Gaue you a daunsing Rapier by your side, Are you so desperate growne to threat your friends?

Goe too: haue your Lath glued within your sheath, Till you know better how to handle it

Chi. Meane while sir, with the little skill I haue, Full well shalt thou perceiue how much I dare

Deme. I Boy, grow ye so braue?

They drawe.

Aron. Why how now Lords?

So nere the Emperours Pallace dare you draw, And maintaine such a quarrell openly?

Full well I wote, the ground of all this grudge.

I would not for a million of Gold, The cause were knowne to them it most concernes.

Nor would your n.o.ble mother for much more Be so dishonored in the Court of Rome: For shame put vp

Deme. Not I, till I haue sheath'd My rapier in his bosome, and withall Thrust these reprochfull speeches downe his throat, That he hath breath'd in my dishonour heere

Chi. For that I am prepar'd, and full resolu'd, Foule spoken Coward, That thundrest with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing dar'st performe

Aron. A way I say.

Now by the G.o.ds that warlike Gothes adore, This pretty brabble will vndoo vs all: Why Lords, and thinke you not how dangerous It is to set vpon a Princes right?

What is Lauinia then become so loose, Or Ba.s.sia.n.u.s so degenerate, That for her loue such quarrels may be broacht, Without controulement, Iustice, or reuenge?

Young Lords beware, and should the Empresse know, This discord ground, the musicke would not please

Chi. I care not I, knew she and all the world, I loue Lauinia more then all the world

Demet. Youngling, Learne thou to make some meaner choise, Lauinia is thine elder brothers hope

Aron. Why are ye mad? Or know ye not in Rome, How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brooke Compet.i.tors in loue?

I tell you Lords, you doe but plot your deaths, By this deuise

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose, To atchieue her whom I do loue