The Works of William Shakespeare

Sic. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth: 30 next,

Accept my thankfulness.

Sir, we have all

Sec. Mess. Great cause to give great thanks.

Sic.

They are near the city? Sec. Mess. Almost at point to enter. Sic. We will meet them, And help the joy. [Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. A street near the gate. Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, Virgilia, VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage, followed by Patricians, and others.

First Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of
Rome!

Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before

them:

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry Welcome, ladies, welcome!'

All. Welcome, ladies, Welcome ! [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Antium. A public place. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants. Auf. Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: Deliver them this paper: having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: dispatch. [Exeunt Attendants. Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction.

Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; served his designments
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner, and
He waged me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.

First Con.

So he did, my lord: The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory,— Auf.

There was it: For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action: therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People. First Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home: but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.

Sec. Con.

And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats

All the Lords. You are most welcome home. Auf. I have not deserved it But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you?

Lords.

First Lord.

We have.

And grieve to hear't What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines: but there to end Where he was to begin and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding,-this admits no excuse. Auf. He approaches: you shall hear him. 70 Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours; Commoners being with him. Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier, No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought

home

Do more than counterpoise a full third part
The charges of the action. We have made peace
With no less honour to the Antiates

Auf Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think

I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioli?

You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother;"
Breaking his oath and resolution like
A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
He whined and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor.
Hear'st thou, Mars? 100
Auf Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
Cor.

Auf. No more.

Ha!

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my
grave lords,

Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion-
Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave-shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.

First Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound!" If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli: Alone I did it. Boy!

Auf.

Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Consp.

Let him die for't. 120

All the people. Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently. 'He killed my son.' 'My daughter.' He killed my cousin Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'

Cor.

130

Sec. Lord. Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! The man is noble and his fame folds-in This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. O that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! Auf. Insolent villain! All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [The Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus: Aufidius stands on his body. Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold! Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. First Lord. Sec. Lord.

O Tullus,Thou hast done a deed whereat

valour will weep.

Third Lord.

all, be quiet;

Tread not upon him. Masters

Put up your swords.

Auf My lords, when you shall know-as in this rage,

Provoked by him, you cannot-the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

First Lord.

141

Bear from hence his body; And mourn you for him: let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his urn.

Sec. Lord.

His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. Auf. My rage is gone; And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. 149 Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers: I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus. A dead march sounded.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol.
The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the
Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below,
from one side, SATURNINUS and his Follow
ers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS
and his Followers; with drum and colours.
Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms,
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.

MILIUS, a noble Roman

ALARBUS,

DEMETRIUS, sons to Tamora.
CHIRON,

AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora.

A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clow:
Romans.

Goths and Romans.

TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.

LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
A Nurse.

Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and
Attendants.

SCENE: Rome, and the country near it.

From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat, by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed, 47
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
That you withdraw you and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should,

Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. my right,

If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,

Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence and nobility;
But let desert in pure election shine,
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the

crown.

Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
thoughts!

Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy
In thy uprightness and integrity,

And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people's favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.
[Exeunt the Followers of Bassianus
Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in
my right,

I thank you all and here dismiss you all,
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person and the cause.

[Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in. Bas. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. [Flourish. Saturninus and Bassianus go up into the Capitol.

Enter a Captain.

Cap. Romans, make way: the good Andronicus,

Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is return'd
From where he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MAR-
TIUS and MUTIUS; after them, two Men
bearing a coffin covered with black; then
LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After them, TITUS
ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALAR-
BUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other
Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People follow-
ing. The Bearers set down the coffin, and
TITUS speaks.

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!

Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive let Rome reward with love;
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:

Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd, and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed.
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and
Mutius, with Alarbus.

130

Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, May favour Tamora, the Queen of GothsWhen Goths were Goths and Tamora was queenTo quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody.

141

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd

Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,

sword.

Titus, unkind and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[The tomb is opened.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, 90
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!
Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the
Goths,

That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeased,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

100

Tit. I give him you, the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. Tam. Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious con

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And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; 150 Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in

rest,

Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no
storms,

No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
Enter LAVINIA.

Lav. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;

160

My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
I render, for my brethren's obsequies;
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud!
Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly re-
served

The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!

Marc. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,

170

Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother
Marcus.

Marc. And welcome, nephews, from suc-
cessful wars,

You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,

That in your country's service drew your swords:
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, 180
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue;
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late-deceased emperor's sons:
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country's strength successfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country:
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world:
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.

190

200

Marc. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the

empery.

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit
That you create your emperor's eldest son,
I make,
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth,
And ripen justice in this commonweal:
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and say 'Long live our emperor!' 229
Marc. With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor,
And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!'
[A long flourish till they come dran.
Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done
To us in our election this day,

I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my empress,
Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please
thee?

240

Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and in this
match

I hold me highly honour'd of your grace:
And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine,
King and commander of our commonweal,
The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate
My sword, my chariot and my prisoners;
Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: 250
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet.
Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts
Rome shall record, and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. [To Tamora] Now, madam, are you
prisoner to an emperor;

Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou To him that, for your honour and your state, tell?

Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus.
Sat.
Romans, do me right:
Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them

The people's hearts, and wean them from them-
selves.

Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do till I die:
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
I will most thankful be; and thanks to men

Of noble minds is honourable meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes
here,

I ask your voices and your suffrages:
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Tribunes. To gratify the good Andronicus, 220
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Will use you nobly and your followers.

260

Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue
That I would choose, were I to choose anew.
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:
Though chance of war hath wrought this change
of cheer,

Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Rest on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you
Can make you greater than the Queen of Goth
Lavinia, you are not displeased with this?

270

Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let
us go:

Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and
druin.

[Flourish. Saturninus courts Tamera in dumb show. Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seising Lavinia. Tit. How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?

Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal To do myself this reason and this right.

279

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