No Fear Shakespeare: Titus Andronicus: Act 3 Scene 1

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Titus Andronicus

William Shakespeare

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Original Text	Modern Text
Enter the Judges and Senators with TITUS’ two sons (QUINTUS and MARTIUS) bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and TITUS going before, pleading.	Enter the Judges and Senators with TITUS’ two sons (QUINTUS and MARTIUS) bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and TITUS going before, pleading.
TITUS Hear me, grave 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, 5 For all the frosty nights that I have watched, And for these bitter tears which now you see, Filling the agèd wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemnèd sons, Whose souls is not corrupted as ’tis thought. 10 For two-and-twenty sons I never wept Because they died in honor’s lofty bed.	TITUS Hear me, grave 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 agèd wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemnèd sons, Whose souls is not corrupted as ’tis thought. For two-and-twenty sons I never wept Because they died in honor’s lofty bed.
ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the Judges pass by him.	ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the Judges pass by him.
They exit with the prisoners as TITUS continues speaking.	They exit with the prisoners as TITUS continues speaking.
For these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears. Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite. 15 My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O Earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient ruins Than youthful April shall with all his showers. In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still; 20 In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow And keep eternal springtime on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.	For these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears. Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite. My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O Earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient ruins Than youthful April shall 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 thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.
Enter LUCIUS with his weapon drawn.	Enter LUCIUS with his weapon drawn.
O reverend tribunes, O gentle agèd men, Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, 25 And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators.	O reverend tribunes, O gentle agèd 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.	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 30 Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.— Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—	TITUS Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.— Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—
LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.	LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
TITUS Why, ’tis no matter, man. If they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, 35 They would not pity me. Yet plead I must, And bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the Tribunes, 40 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, And were they but attirèd in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. 45 A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?	TITUS Why, ’tis no matter, man. If they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, They would not pity me. Yet plead I must, And bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are 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, And were they but attirèd in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?
LUCIUS 50 To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment.	LUCIUS To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment.
TITUS, rising O happy man, they have befriended thee! Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive 55 That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine. How happy art thou then From these devourers to be banishèd. But who comes with our brother Marcus here?	TITUS, rising O happy man, they have befriended thee! Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine. How happy art thou then From these devourers to be banishèd. But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA.	Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA.
MARCUS 60 Titus, prepare thy agèd eyes to weep, Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break. I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.	MARCUS Titus, prepare thy agèd 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 see it, then.	TITUS Will it consume me? Let me see it, then.
MARCUS This was thy daughter.	MARCUS This was thy daughter.
TITUS 65 Why, Marcus, so she is.	TITUS Why, Marcus, so she is.
LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me!	LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me!
TITUS Faint-hearted boy, arise and look upon her.— Speak, Lavinia. What accursèd hand Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight? 70 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’ll chop off my hands too, 75 For they have fought for Rome and all in vain; And they have nursed this woe in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them 80 Is that the one will help to cut the other.— ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome service is but vain.	TITUS Faint-hearted boy, arise and look upon her.— Speak, Lavinia. What accursèd 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 Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam’st, And now like Nilus it 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 prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other.— ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome service is but vain.
LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister. Who hath martyred thee?	LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister. Who hath martyred thee?
MARCUS O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, 85 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.	MARCUS O, 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.
LUCIUS O, say thou for her who hath done this deed!	LUCIUS O, say thou for her who hath done this deed!
MARCUS 90 O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound.	MARCUS O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound.
TITUS It was my dear, and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead. 95 For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environed 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. 100 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. 105 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. 110 Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.— Look, Marcus!—Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the honeydew 115 Upon a gathered lily almost withered.	TITUS 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, Environed 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 Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.— Look, Marcus!—Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the honeydew Upon a gathered lily almost withered.
MARCUS Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband, Perchance because she knows them innocent.	MARCUS Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband, Perchance because she knows them innocent.
TITUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta’en revenge on them.— 120 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 125 And thou and I sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks, How they are stained like meadows yet not dry With miry slime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long 130 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 Pass the remainder of our hateful days? 135 What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues Plot some device of further misery To make us wondered at in time to come.	TITUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta’en 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 like 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 Pass 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 wondered at in time to come.
LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.	LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
MARCUS 140 Patience, dear niece.—Good Titus, dry thine eyes.	MARCUS Patience, dear niece.—Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
TITUS 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.	TITUS 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.
LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.	LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
TITUS 145 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 bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. 150 O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as limbo is from bliss.	TITUS 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 bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as limbo is from bliss.
Enter AARON the Moor alone.	Enter AARON the Moor alone.
AARON Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor Sends thee this word, that if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 155 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.	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.
TITUS O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! 160 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?	TITUS O gracious emperor! O 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?
LUCIUS Stay, father, for that noble hand of thine, 165 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 brothers’ lives.	LUCIUS 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 brothers’ lives.
MARCUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome 170 And reared aloft the bloody battleax, Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle? O, 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. 175 Then have I kept it to a worthy end.	MARCUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome And reared aloft the bloody battleax, Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle? O, 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.
AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come.	AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come.
MARCUS My hand shall go.	MARCUS My hand shall go.

Original Text	Modern Text
Enter the Judges and Senators with TITUS’ two sons (QUINTUS and MARTIUS) bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and TITUS going before, pleading.	Enter the Judges and Senators with TITUS’ two sons (QUINTUS and MARTIUS) bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, and TITUS going before, pleading.
TITUS Hear me, grave 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, 5 For all the frosty nights that I have watched, And for these bitter tears which now you see, Filling the agèd wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemnèd sons, Whose souls is not corrupted as ’tis thought. 10 For two-and-twenty sons I never wept Because they died in honor’s lofty bed.	TITUS Hear me, grave 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 agèd wrinkles in my cheeks, Be pitiful to my condemnèd sons, Whose souls is not corrupted as ’tis thought. For two-and-twenty sons I never wept Because they died in honor’s lofty bed.
ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the Judges pass by him.	ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the Judges pass by him.
They exit with the prisoners as TITUS continues speaking.	They exit with the prisoners as TITUS continues speaking.
For these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears. Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite. 15 My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O Earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient ruins Than youthful April shall with all his showers. In summer’s drought I’ll drop upon thee still; 20 In winter with warm tears I’ll melt the snow And keep eternal springtime on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.	For these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears. Let my tears stanch the earth’s dry appetite. My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O Earth, I will befriend thee more with rain That shall distil from these two ancient ruins Than youthful April shall 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 thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood.
Enter LUCIUS with his weapon drawn.	Enter LUCIUS with his weapon drawn.
O reverend tribunes, O gentle agèd men, Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, 25 And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators.	O reverend tribunes, O gentle agèd 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.	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 30 Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.— Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—	TITUS Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.— Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—
LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.	LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
TITUS Why, ’tis no matter, man. If they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, 35 They would not pity me. Yet plead I must, And bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the Tribunes, 40 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, And were they but attirèd in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. 45 A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?	TITUS Why, ’tis no matter, man. If they did hear, They would not mark me; if they did mark, They would not pity me. Yet plead I must, And bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones, Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are 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, And were they but attirèd in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon drawn?
LUCIUS 50 To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment.	LUCIUS To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment.
TITUS, rising O happy man, they have befriended thee! Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive 55 That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine. How happy art thou then From these devourers to be banishèd. But who comes with our brother Marcus here?	TITUS, rising O happy man, they have befriended thee! Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine. How happy art thou then From these devourers to be banishèd. But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA.	Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA.
MARCUS 60 Titus, prepare thy agèd eyes to weep, Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break. I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.	MARCUS Titus, prepare thy agèd 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 see it, then.	TITUS Will it consume me? Let me see it, then.
MARCUS This was thy daughter.	MARCUS This was thy daughter.
TITUS 65 Why, Marcus, so she is.	TITUS Why, Marcus, so she is.
LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me!	LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me!
TITUS Faint-hearted boy, arise and look upon her.— Speak, Lavinia. What accursèd hand Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight? 70 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’ll chop off my hands too, 75 For they have fought for Rome and all in vain; And they have nursed this woe in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them 80 Is that the one will help to cut the other.— ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome service is but vain.	TITUS Faint-hearted boy, arise and look upon her.— Speak, Lavinia. What accursèd 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 Troy? My grief was at the height before thou cam’st, And now like Nilus it 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 prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use. Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other.— ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome service is but vain.
LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister. Who hath martyred thee?	LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister. Who hath martyred thee?
MARCUS O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, 85 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.	MARCUS O, 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.
LUCIUS O, say thou for her who hath done this deed!	LUCIUS O, say thou for her who hath done this deed!
MARCUS 90 O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound.	MARCUS O, thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound.
TITUS It was my dear, and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead. 95 For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environed 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. 100 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. 105 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. 110 Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.— Look, Marcus!—Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the honeydew 115 Upon a gathered lily almost withered.	TITUS 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, Environed 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 Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this.— Look, Marcus!—Ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the honeydew Upon a gathered lily almost withered.
MARCUS Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband, Perchance because she knows them innocent.	MARCUS Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband, Perchance because she knows them innocent.
TITUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta’en revenge on them.— 120 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 125 And thou and I sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks, How they are stained like meadows yet not dry With miry slime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long 130 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 Pass the remainder of our hateful days? 135 What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues Plot some device of further misery To make us wondered at in time to come.	TITUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta’en 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 like 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 Pass 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 wondered at in time to come.
LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.	LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
MARCUS 140 Patience, dear niece.—Good Titus, dry thine eyes.	MARCUS Patience, dear niece.—Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
TITUS 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.	TITUS 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.
LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.	LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
TITUS 145 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 bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. 150 O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as limbo is from bliss.	TITUS 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 bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as limbo is from bliss.
Enter AARON the Moor alone.	Enter AARON the Moor alone.
AARON Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor Sends thee this word, that if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 155 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.	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.
TITUS O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! 160 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?	TITUS O gracious emperor! O 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?
LUCIUS Stay, father, for that noble hand of thine, 165 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 brothers’ lives.	LUCIUS 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 brothers’ lives.
MARCUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome 170 And reared aloft the bloody battleax, Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle? O, 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. 175 Then have I kept it to a worthy end.	MARCUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome And reared aloft the bloody battleax, Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle? O, 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.
AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come.	AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come.
MARCUS My hand shall go.	MARCUS My hand shall go.