Titus Page #8

'Zounds, ye whore!

Is black so base a hue?

Sweet blowse, you are

a beauteous blossom, sure.

Villain,

what hast thou done?

That which thou canst not undo.

Thou hast undone our mother.

Villain, I have done thy mother.

And therein, hellish dog,

thou hast undone her!

Accursed the offspring

of so foul a fiend.

It shall not live.

It shall not die!

Aaron, it must.

The mother wills it so.

What?

Must it, nurse?

Then let no man but I do

execution on my flesh and blood.

I'll broach the tadpole

on this rapier's point.

Nurse, give it me! My sword

shall soon dispatch it!

Sooner this sword

shall plow thy bowels up!

Stay, murderous villains!

Will you kill your brother?

Now, by the burning

tapers of the sky...

that shone so brightly

when this boy was got,

he dies upon

my scimitar's sharp point...

that touches this

my first-born son and heir.

What?

What, ye sanguine,

shallow-hearted boys?

Ye white-limed walls.

Ye alehouse painted signs.

Coal-black is better

than another hue...

in that it scorns

to bear another hue.

For all the water

of the ocean...

could never turn

a swan's black legs to white...

although she lave them

hourly in the flood.

Tell the empress from me...

that I am of age

to keep mine own.

Excuse it how she can.

Wilt thou betray

thy noble mistress thus?

My mistress is my mistress.

This...

myself-

the vigor and the picture

of my youth.

This before all the world

do I prefer.

This, 'spite all the world,

will I keep safe-

Oh!

Or some of you shall

smoke for it in Rome.

By this our mother

is forever shamed.

The emperor in his rage

will doom her death.

I blush to think

upon this ignomy.

Why, there's the privilege

your beauty bears.

Fie, treacherous hue,

that will betray with blushing...

the close enacts

and counsels of the heart.

Here's a young lad

framed of another leer.

Look!

Look how the black slave

smiles upon the father,

as who should say,

"Old lad, I am thine own."

Aaron,

what shall I say

unto the empress?

Advise thee, Aaron,

what is to be done,

so that we may all

subscribe to thy advice.

Save thou the child,

so we may all be safe.

Then sit we down,

and let us all consult.

Ah! My son and I will

have the wind of you.

Keep there!

Now, talk at pleasure

of your safety.

How many women saw

this child of his?

Ah, so, brave lords.

When we join in league,

I am a lamb.

But if you brave the Moor,

the chafed boar,

the mountain lioness,

the ocean swells not so

as Aaron storms.

But say again,

how many saw the child?

Cornelia the midwife

and myself...

and no one else

but the delivered empress.

The empress,

the midwife...

and yourself.

Two may keep counsel

when the third's away.

Go to the empress. Mm-hmm.

Tell her this I said.

So cries a pig

prepared to the spit.

What meanest thou, Aaron?

Wherefore didst thou this?

Oh, lord, sir,

'tis a deed of policy.

What? Should she live

to betray this guilt of ours,

a long-tongued babbling gossip?

No, lords. No.

Hark ye, lords.

You see I have given her physic.

You must needs bestow her funeral.

The fields are near.

You are gallant grooms.

This done, make sure

you take no longer days,

but send the midwife

presently to me.

The midwife and the nurse

well made away,

then let the ladies tattle

what they please.

Aaron, I see thou wilt not

trust the air with secrets.

For this care of Tamora,

herself and hers

are highly bound to thee.

Now to the Goths,

as swift as swallow flies,

there to dispose

this treasure in mine arms...

and secretly to greet

the empress' friends.

Come on,

you thick-lipped slave.

I'll bear you hence,

for it is you

who puts us to our shifts.

I'll make you feed

on berries and on roots...

and cabin in a cave...

and bring you up

to be a warrior...

and command a camp.

Hep!

Hep! Hep!

Come, Marcus, come.

Kinsmen, this is the way.

Sir boy, now let me see

your archery.

Look ye draw home enough,

and 'tis there straight.

Goddess of justice

has left the earth.

Be remembered, Marcus,

she's gone, she's fled.

Sirs, take you to your tools.

You, cousins, shall go sound

the ocean and cast your nets.

Happily you may catch her

in the sea.

Yet there's

as little justice as at land.

No. Publius and Sempronius,

you must do it.

'Tis you must dig

with mattock and with spade...

and pierce the inmost

center of the earth.

Then, when you come

to Pluto's region,

I pray you,

give him this petition.

Tell him it is for

justice and for aid,

and that it comes

from old Andronicus,

shaken with sorrows

in ungrateful Rome.

Ah, Rome.

Well, well.

I made thee miserable that time

I threw the people's suffrages...

on him that thus

doth tyrannize o'er me.

Go, get you gone,

and pray be careful all...

and leave you not

a man of war unsearched.

This wicked emperor may

have shipped her hence...

and, kinsmen, then we may

go pipe for justice.

O Publius,

is not this a heavy case, to see

thy noble uncle thus distract?

Therefore, my lord,

it highly us concerns

by day and night...

to attend him carefully...

and feed his humor

kindly as we may...

till time beget

some careful remedy.

Kinsmen, his sorrows

are past remedy.

Publius, how now?

How now, my masters?

You're a good archer, Marcus.

Come to this gear.

Ad Jovem. That's for you.

Here. Ad Apollinem.

Here, boy, to Pallas.

Here, to Mercury.

To Saturn, Caius,

not to Saturnine.

You were as good to shoot

against the wind.

To it, boy.

Eh-

Marcus, loose when I bid.

Of my word,

I've written to effect.

There's not a god

left unsolicited.

My lord, I aim

a mile beyond the moon.

Your letter is with Jupiter

by this.

Marcus, we are but shrubs,

no cedars we,

no big-boned men framed

of the cyclops' size.

But metal, Marcus,

steel to the very back,

yet wrung with wrongs more

than our backs can bear.

And sith there's no justice

in earth nor hell,

we will solicit heaven...

and move the gods

to send down justice...

for to wreak our wrongs.

Come, masters, draw.

Kinsmen,

shoot all your shafts

into the court.

We will afflict

the emperor in his pride.

Good boy, in Virgo's lap.

Give it Pallas.

It's from Titus!

It's from Titus!

My lords,

what wrongs are these?

Was ever seen an emperor

in Rome thus overborne,

troubled, confronted thus,

and for the extent

of equal justice...

used in such contempt?

My lords, you know,

as do the mightful gods,

however these disturbers

of our peace buzz...

in the people's ears,

there naught has passed,

but even with law,

against the willful sons

of old Andronicus!

And what and if his sorrows

do overwhelm his wits?

Hmm?

Shall we be thus afflicted

by his wreaks, his fits,

his frenzies,

and his bitterness?

And now he writes to heaven

for his redress.

See? Here's to Jove,

this to Apollo,

this to Mercury,

this to the god of war-

Sweet scrolls to fly about

the streets of Rome!

What's this but libeling

against the senate...

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