Titus Andronicus: Act 5

Brave slip sprung from the great Andronicus,
Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,
Whose high exploits and honorable deeds
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold in us.

Renownèd Lucius, 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 a wall.

Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dame!
Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art

O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil
That robbed Andronicus of his good hand

First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl,
A sight to vex the father’s soul withal.

Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know
An idiot holds his bauble 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 soe’er 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.

Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon.

And what not done that thou hast cause to rue,
Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it?

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

Knock at his study, where they say he keeps
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge.

Knock at his study, where they say he keeps
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge.

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.

Confer with me of murder and of death.

But we worldly men
Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.

Whate’er I forge to feed his brainsick humors,
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

Or else I’ll call my brother back again
And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.

Yield to his humor, smooth and speak him fair,
And tarry with him till I turn again.

This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on

Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous tiger, this accursèd devil.

Let him receive no sust’nance.

What, hath the firmament more suns than one?

The feast is ready which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honorable end,
For peace, for love, for league and good to Rome.

A reason mighty, strong, and effectual;
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant
For me, most wretched, to perform the like.

You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome,
By uproars severed as a flight of fowl
Scattered by winds and high tempestuous gusts

O, 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

O, 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

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
And force you to commiseration.

For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father’s tears despised, and basely cozened
Of that true hand that fought Rome’s quarrel out
And sent her enemies unto the grave

Alas, you know I am no vaunter, 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.

Have we done aught amiss?

Show us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us pleading,
The poor remainder of Andronici
Will, hand in hand, all headlong hurl ourselves,
And on the ragged stones beat forth our souls,
And make a mutual closure of our house.

Stand all aloof, but, uncle, draw you near
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.

Give sentence on this execrable wretch
That hath been breeder of these dire events.