Titus Andronicus, or, The rape of Lavinia acted at the Theatre Royall : a tragedy, alter'd from Mr. Shakespears works / by Mr. Edw. Ravenscroft.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter the Fasces; Marcus and Quintus Guarded, as going to Execution▪ Then the Judges and Senators: Titus going before Pleading, and Stopping them in their Way.

Titus.

HEar me grave fathers, worthy Tribunes stay. For Pity of my Age, whose youth was spent In dangerous Wars, whilst you securely slept. For all my Bloud in Romes great quarrel shed; For all the Frosty Nights that I have watch'd, And for these brackish tears which now you see, Filling the Aged wrinckles in my Cheeks, Be Mercifull to my Condemned Sons, Whose Souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. For two and twenty Sons I never wept, Because they dy'd in Honours shining Bed.

Titus lies down upon the ground the Judges pass by him.

For these, Tribunes in the dust I write, My Hearts deep languor, and my Souls sad tears. Let my tears stanch the Earths dry appetite: Their Innocent Blouds will make't asham'd and blush. O Earth! I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distill from these two Ancient ruines, Than Youthfull Aprill shall with all its showrs. In Summers drought I'le drop upon thee still, In Winter with warm tears I'le melt the Snow, And keep Eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou'lt refuse to drink my dear Sons Bloud.

Enter Lucius.

Oh Reverend Tribunes, Oh 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.

Lucius.

O Noble Father you Lament in vain, The Tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your Sorrows to a stone.

Titus.

Ah Lucius, for thy Brothers let me plead, Grave Tribunes, once more I entreat of you.

Lucius.

Dear Aged Father, no Tribune hears you speak.

Titus.

Why 'tis no matter man, if they did hear They would not mind me, or if they did mind, They would not pity me, yet Plead I must, And all in vain to them.— Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who tho' they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort are better than the Tribunes, Because they do not intercept my tale: When I do Weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my Tears, and seem to weep with me. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy Weapon drawn?

Lucius.

I try'd to rescue my Brothers from death, For which attempt the Judges have pronounc't My Everlasting doom of Banishment.

Titus.

O happy man, they have befriended thee: Why foolish Lucius do'st thou not perceive, That Rome is but a Wilderness of Tygers? Tygers must prey, and Rome affords no Prey But me and mine; how happy art thou then, From these Devourers to be Banished. But who comes with our Brother Marcus here?

Enter Marcus with Lavinia Veyl'd.

Marcus.

Titus, prepare thy Aged eyes to weep, Or if not so, thy Noble heart to break: I bring consuming sorrow to thine Age.

Titus.

Will it consume me? let me feel it then.

Marcus.

This was thy Daughter.

Marcus pulls off her Veyl.

Titus.

Why, Marcus, so she is.

Lucius.

Ye Gods, this object kills me.

Titus.

Faint-hearted Boy, turn here and look upon her, Speak Lavinia, what accursed hand, Hath made thee handless in thy Fathers sight? What fool hath added water to the Sea? Or brought a Faggot to bright burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, And now like Nilus it disdaineth bounds. Give me a Sword, I'le chop off my hands too, For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain.

Lucius.

Speak dearest Sister, who has Martyr'd thee

Marcus.

Oh that delightfull Engine of her thoughts, That told them with such pleasing Eloquence,

Is now torn rudely from that hollow Cage, Where like a sweet Mellodious Bird it sung, Sweet varied Notes, Inchanting every ear.

Lucius.

O! say thou for her, who hath done this dead.

Marcus,

O! thus I found her in the Banii Gardens Seeking to hide her self as doth the Deer, That hath receiv'd a wound incurable.

Titus.

Then wounded her, better he had kill'd me, For now I stand as one upon a Rock, Inviron'd with a Wilderness of Sea, Who marks the swelling Tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious Surge, Will in his brinish Bowells swallow him. This way to Death my wretched sons are gone, Here stands my other Son a Banish'd man, And here my Brother weeping at my griefs: But that which gives my soul the greatest blow, Is dear Lavinia, dearer then my Soul. Had I but seen thy Picture in this Posture, It wou'd have turn'd me mad; what shall I do Now I behold thy Living substance so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears▪ No tongue to tell me who hath Martyr'd thee: Thy Husband he is dead, and for his Death Thy Brothers are Condemn'd, and dead by this.

Lav. makes signs of sorrow lifting up her eyes & then hanging down her head & moving her stumps

Look Marcus, Ah Son Lucius look on her, When I did name her Brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the morning dew, Upon a gather'd Lilly almost withered,

Marcus.

Perchance she weeps, because they kill'd her Husband, Perchance because she knows them Innocent.

Titus.

No, no, they wou'd not do so soul a deed, Witness the sorrow that their Sister makes, Dear, poor Lavinia let me kiss thy Lips, Or make some sign how I may give 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 stain'd like Meadows yet not dry, With miery-slime left on them by a Floud? And in the Fountain shall we gaze so long, 'Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And brackish made as Brine with our salt tears? Or shall we cut away our Hands like thine?

Or tear our Tongues out by the Roots, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hatefull days? What shall we do? Let us that have our Tongues, Plot some device of further Misery,

Lav. turns up her eyes & then hangs down her head as weeping.

To make us wonder'd at in times to come.

Lu.

Cease, Noble Sr, your tears, for at you grief See how my wretched Sister mouths and weeps.

Marcus.

Patience Lavinia; Titus dry thine eyes.

Mar. gives Tit. his handkercher.

Titus.

Ah Marcus, Marcus well do I perceive Thy Handkercher can't drink a tear of mine; For thou poor man hast drown'd it with thine own,

Lucius.

Ah my Levinia I will wipe thy cheeks.

Lav. shakes her head & points at Mar. hand∣kercher as refu∣sing to have her eyes wip'd.

Tit.

Look, Marcus, look, I understand her signs, Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her Brother, which I said to thee. His Handkercher with his own tears all wet Can do no service on her sorrow full cheeks. Oh what a Sympathy of woe is this.

Enter Aron the Moor.

Aron.

Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperour Sends thee this word, that if you think your Sons Are Innocent, in Proof of that belief, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thy self good Titus, Or any one of you chop off your hand, And send it to the Scaffold, he for the Piety Will send thee hither both thy Sons, And that shall ransome them from Punishment.

Titus.

Oh Gracious Emperour, for this good news, Let me kneel to thee my dear black Angell. Did ever Raven sing so like a Lark, That gives sweet tydings of the Suns uprise? With all my heart, I'le send the Emperour my hand.

Lucius.

Stay Father, for that War like hand of thine, That hath o'rethrown so many Enemies Shall not be sent; my hand will serve the turn, My Youth can better spare my bloud then you, And therefore mine shall save my Brothers Lives.

Marcus.

Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And wrear'd aloft the bloudy Battle-axe? O none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath been but Idle, let that serve▪ To Ransome my two Nephews from their death,

Then have I kept it to a worthy end.

Marcus.

By Heavens it shall not go—

Titus.

Strive you no more, such wither'd herbs as these Are fit for plucking up, and therefore mine.

Lucius.

Dear Sir, if Lucius shall be thought your Son, Let me redeem my Brothers both from death.

Marcus.

And for our Fathers Love and Mothers care, Now let me shew a Brothers love to thee.

Aron.

Agree your strife, For sear they dye before their Pardon comes. The Empress stays the Axe, who begg'd this Grace.

Titus.

For this good deed— Ne're may she beg the mighty Gods is vain.

Aron.

There stands an Executioner with his Axe.

Titus.

No, Lucius, Fetch the Sword I use in War. That's only fit for such a Noble deed. The hand of one of you it shall Lop off, But whose at your return I will determine. Take hence Lavinia with you.

Exit Lucius.

Marcus.

Let it be mine, of five and twenty Sons This one is only left. O leave him then Entire.

Titus.

That reason has o'recome me: follow him, Haste Marcus, see him bring the Sword to me, Lest he should strike the blow e're he return, And so deprive thee of thy Piety.—

Exit Marcus.

Now I am free, but this is no fit place. Come hither Executioner,

Titus and Executioner Exeunt aside.

I will deceive them both—

Aron.

If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never whilst I live deceive men so. But yet in'th'End I will deceive you all. Thy Sons, thy Daughter, and her Husband too, Have been deceiv'd by me, and now thy self Poor Aged man shalt be deceiv'd and cozen'd. When once the mind is to destruction bent, How easy 'tis new Mischiefs to invent.

Enter Lucius and Marcus, with the Sword.

Lucius.

Where is my Father?

Marcus.

Where is my Brother Titus?

Aron.

He is hereabouts. O there I see him coming, I knew he was not far off.

Enter Titus, with his hand off.

Lucius.

See Marcus, See,— the deed is done. My Father hath deceiv'd us.—

Marcus.

'Tis the first time he ever did.

Lucius.

You was too blame to trust him.

Marcus.

So I was, but you'd have done the same.

Lucius.

I think I should.—

Titus.

Good Moor, give to his Majesty this hand. Tell him it warded his Father From thousand dangers, bid him bury it: More hath it merited, that let it have. As for my Sons, say I account of them, As jewels purchas'd at an easy price, And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.

Aron.

I go Andronicus, and for thy hand, Look suddenly to have thy Sons with thee. Good Old man, how, much the fight will please thee?

Exit Aron

Ti.

Oh! here I lift this one hand up to heaven,

Tit. Kneels, Ma. Luc. Kneels and hold him by each Arm as to lift him up.

And bow this feeble ruine to the Earth, If any Power pities wretched tears, To that I call; what will you kneel with me? Do then my Loving Son and my dear Brother, For Heaven shall hear our prayers, or else our breaths Shall thicken all the Air like a deep mist, And stain the Sun with Fog, as sometimes Clouds When they do hug him in their reaking bosoms.

Marcus.

O Titus! speak with possibility, And do not break into these deep extreams.

Lucius.

Let reason Govern, Sir, your Sorrows.

Titus.

If there were reason for these Miseries, Then within Limits could I Binde my passions. When Heaven does weep, doth not the Earth o'reflow? If the Winds rage doth not the Sea grow mad? Threatning the Heavens with its surrow'd brow. Wilt thou have reason then, weak humane reason, When Winds from every point of th' compass blow, Keep my mind smooth and calm. Heaven guides the Sea, Yet that rebells, swells, and throws billows upward.

Lu.

Dear Sir, Go in, and try with sleep to moderate your grief.

Titus.

No I'le go in and weep by my Lavicia.

Marcus.

Good Brother do, go in, but try to sleep. We'l Leade you to the door, and then go meet, Your Sons, e're this returning from the Scaffold.

Titus.

Lucius wilt thou go too?

Lucius.

That I may see my Brothers e're I part. I'me Banish'd Sir, and have not long to stay. I'le help to bring 'em to your aged Arms— And then of all that's Good or dear in Rome I'le take my Leave at once.

Titus.

Do then— And tell 'em if my other hand Will do them good, I will send them that too.

Exeunt M▪ & L.

Enter Junius, with an Arrow in's hand, running from Lavinia, and she tu suing him. Titus Turns back.

Ivnius.

Help Grandfather, help, my Aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why. Look Look— dear Aunt, I know not what you mean.

Titus.

Stand by me Junius, do not fear thy Aunt, She Loves thee Boy too well to do thee harm.

Jun.

I when my Father is at home she does.

Titus.

See Junius, see how much she makes of thee, What means Lavinia by these signs?— Can'st thou not guess, wherefore she follows thee?

Jun.

Indeed I know not, I, Unless some fit of frenzy does possess her: For I have heard my Uncle Marcus say, Extremity of griefs would make men mad. That made me fear, tho' I know my Aunt Loves me, Loves me as dear as e're my Mother did, And would not but in Madness fright my Youth, Which made me fly from her.

Titus.

She Kisses thee in signe she means no harm:

Lavinia Kisses Jun. Then beck∣ons him to follow, going towards the door her self.

See now she beckons thee,— Some whither she would have thee go with her.

Junius.

Ay when my Father comes— or my Uncle To go with us— I'le wait on my Aunt.— Indeed dear Aunt I will.

Titus.

Stay 'till his Father comes, Lucius is not yet gone far: But presently he goes to Banishment.

Junius.

How far is that Grandfather?

Titus.

A Long Journey—

Junius.

And must I go with him or stay with you?

Titus.

I am going yet a Longer Journey Child.

Junius.

But whither Grandfather Titus.

Titus.

From whence I came—

Junius.

What to the Wars again, if my Father goes I'le have a Sword and go with you too.

Titus.

No I am going to rest.

Junius.

Oh to Bed.

Titus.

To my Grave— to dye—

Junius.

Ah! but you shan't dye yet Grandfather, I Love you.

Titus.

Poor Innocent! how he beguils my thoughts. Bent strongly to invent a way how thou

Lavinia

might'st disclose thy Injuries. And to our knowledge give the Nature, And the Actors of thy Wrongs. By the disorder of thy dress, I fear Thou wert i'th' Salvage hands of Ravishers,

Lav. turns her head aside from Titus.

Turn not thy face away to hide thy Blushes, Speak thou by signs, for here is none but I, And Little Junius knows not what it means.

Jun. pudles in the Sand with the arrow not minding their Discourse.

What Roman Lord was it durst do the deed? Or play'd not Saturnine the Tarquin with thee?

Junius.

Look here Grandfather—

Titus.

Interrupt me not▪— Good Boy.

Jun.

Do but tell me Grandfather, have I writ your name right—

Titus.

Titus Andronicus!

Reads

Writ with his Arrow on the dust. O Boy! Thou hast Inspir'd me, Lend me thy Reed, Kneel down Lavinia, Junius stand thou by me; Observe, Observe Lavinia what I'm doing,

Ti. holds the end of the arrow in his mouth & guides it with his wrists and writes on the ground.

Rape is the word that I have written there; Without the help of this one hand that's left If that was not one cause for which thou mourn'st, Then here put forth thy foot and blot it out: That sigh and mournfull Look tells me it was▪ Beneath it write the wicked Authors Names, Decypher in the Sand as I have done,

she writs in the same manner as above.

Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain.

Titus.

Chiron! `Demetrius.

Ti. Reads

They, O ye Gods! But lest my dimm and aged eyes deceive me, Read thou good Junius what is written there.

Jun.

Rape,— Chiron— Demetrius.

Jun. reads

Titus.

'Tis so, Revenge, Revenge ye Gods! Revenge Upon the Lustfull Sons of Tamora.

Enter Marcus, Lucius, Messenger after them bearing in the two heads of Titus Sons, and his hand.

Marcus.

Unhappy Titus! Unhappy Marcus!

Luc.

Unhappy Lucius!

Titus.

Why are ye thus return'd, sadly Exclayming, With Ringing hands and Eyes lift up to heaven? Have yet the Gods more miseries in store?

Marcus.

Worthy Andronicus ill art thou repay'd, For that good hand thou sent'st the Emperour Here are the heads of thy two noble Sons. And here's thy hand in scorn to thee sent back, Thy Griefs their sport, thy resolution mockt.

Tit.

Now let Hot Aetna cool in Cysillia, And be my heart an Ever-Burning Hell! These Miseries are more then may be born, To weep with them that weep, some ease doth give, But sorrow flowted at is double death.

Luc.

O that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested Life not Shrink away.

Lucius Kisses one head.

That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more Interest but to breath.

Marcus.

Alas! that kiss is vain and comfortless, As frozen water to a Starved snake.

Ti.

When will this fearfull slumber have an End?

Mar.

Now farewell flattery, dye Andronicus, Thou dost not slumber, see thy two Sons heads, Thy Warlike hand, thy mangl'd Daughter here, Thy other Banish'd Son with this sad sight Strook pale and bloodless, and I thy Brother E'en like a Marble Image, cold and Num. Ah now no more will I controul my griefs, Tear off thy silver hair, thy other hand, Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismall sight The closing up of our most wretched Eyes: Now is a time to rage, why art thou still?

Titus.

Ha, ha, ha!

Mar.

Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.

Titus.

Why I have not another tear to shed, Nor have the Gods a mischief now in store. Besides I have news, Joyfull news for all, I know the Authors of Lavinia's wrongs. And hug my self with thoughts of dear revenge. Taught by the practice of young Junius there: See what Lavinia in the dust has writ.

Lucius.

What; could she write, when she has ne're a hand?

Jun.

Oh father I can tell you how. She took this Arrow, held it in her mouth, And with her handless Arms did guide it thus.

Marcus.

Rape— Chiron, Demetrius.

reads.

They—

Lucius.

Accursed Goths.

Marcus.

But who Kill'd Bassianus? that who can tell?

Lucius.

She points again to those two Names.

Lavinia turns

hastily and points to the Names on the ground▪

Titus.

The same, the same, ye Everlasting Gods! Revenge, Revenge— I cry aloud Revenge.

Marcus.

Be calm Andronicus; and yet I know There is enough written upon this Earth. To stir a Mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And raise Loud Clamours from the tongues of Infants.

Titus.

Whil'st this remains thus Legible, I'le get A Leaf of Brass, and with a Pen of Steel, Copy these words in lasting Characters, And lay it by: the angry Northern wind Will blow these Sands like Sibels Leaves abroad, And where's the Fatal Legend then?

Lucius.

I have them written on my Heart.

Marcus.

And I.

Junius.

I have them too by heart.

Marcus.

But wilt thou not forget them?

Junius.

Never I warrant you Uncle.

Marcus.

Wilt thou revenge 'em too?

Junius.

I, when I am a man. But even now I'le do what I can.

Marcus.

That's a good Boy. My Lord, Kneel down with me, Lavinia Kneel, And kneel sweet Youth, the Roman Hector's Hope, And swear with me, with the same awfull fear, The Father of that Chaste dishonour'd Dame, Lord Junius Brutus swore for Lucrece Rape, That we will prosecute Revenge upon the Trayterous Goths, or Dye

Titus.

Marcus is rouz'd, let's haste to Action now; For these two Heads do seem to speak to me, And bid, that words shou'd not delay our Deeds. Ye heavy Friends, then Circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you; And swear unto my soul as Marcus did. Revenge shall wipe away our Injuries

Or Death shall hide us from the worlds reproach.

Marcus. Lucius. Junius.

It shall.

Titus.

The Vow is made, come Brother take a Head, And in this hand the other I will bear: And Junius too, share in this Ceremony, Bring thou that hand—and help thy handless Aunt. Lucius for thee, go get thee from my sight. Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay, Make haste my Son, thou hast far to go, Embrace and part, for we have much to do.

Lucius.

Farewell Andronicus my Noble Father,

Lu. Embraces them all as they go out.

Man most distress'd, that ever liv'd in Rome. Marcus farewell the best of Tribunes here. Farewell Lavinia too, my helpless Sister, Tho' wrong'd and wretched still to me as dear: And Junius too my Little Boy, farewell. Thy Fathers hope, and only Joy that's left— To all thy Friends and weeping Parents here And Rome farewell, 'till Lucius comes again, He loves his Pledges dearer then his Life. From thee and these I turn my eyes away, 'Tis Killing grief to go, and Death to stay.

Exit.