READ STUDY GUIDE: Act IV, Scenes i and ii |
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Act IV, Scene i:
Rome. Before TITUS'S House.
Rome. Before TITUS'S House.
| [Enter TITUS and MARCUS. Then enter YOUNG LUCIUS running, with books under his arm, and LAVINIA running after him.] |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia |
| Follows me everywhere, I know not why.— |
| Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes! |
| Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. |
| MARCUS : |
| Stand by me, Lucius: do not fear thine aunt. |
| TITUS : |
| She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. |
| YOUNG LUCIUS |
| Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. |
| MARCUS : |
| What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? |
| TITUS : |
| Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean:— |
| See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: |
| Somewhither would she have thee go with her. |
| Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care |
| Read to her sons than she hath read to thee |
| Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. |
| MARCUS : |
| Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, |
| Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: |
| For I have heard my grandsire say full oft |
| Extremity of griefs would make men mad; |
| And I have read that Hecuba of Troy |
| Ran mad for sorrow: that made me to fear; |
| Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt |
| Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, |
| And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: |
| Which made me down to throw my books, and fly,— |
| Causeless, perhaps: but pardon me, sweet aunt: |
| And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, |
| I will most willingly attend your ladyship. |
| MARCUS : |
| Lucius, I will. |
| [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which Lucius has let fall.] |
| TITUS : |
| How now, Lavinia!—Marcus, what means this? |
| Some book there is that she desires to see. |
| Which is it, girl, of these?—Open them, boy.— |
| But thou art deeper read and better skill'd: |
| Come and take choice of all my library, |
| And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens |
| Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed.— |
| Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? |
| MARCUS : |
| I think she means that there were more than one |
| Confederate in the fact;—ay, more there was, |
| Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. |
| TITUS : |
| Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis; |
| My mother gave it me. |
| MARCUS : |
| For love of her that's gone, |
| Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. |
| TITUS : |
| Soft! So busily she turns the leaves! Help her: |
| What would she find?—Lavinia, shall I read? |
| This is the tragic tale of Philomel, |
| And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape; |
| And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy. |
| MARCUS : |
| See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. |
| TITUS : |
| Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl, |
| Ravish'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was, |
| Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?— |
| See, see!— |
| Ay, such a place there is where we did hunt.— |
| O, had we never, never hunted there!— |
| Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, |
| By nature made for murders and for rapes. |
| MARCUS : |
| O, why should nature build so foul a den, |
| Unless the gods delight in tragedies? |
| TITUS : |
| Give signs, sweet girl,—for here are none but friends,— |
| What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: |
| Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, |
| That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? |
| MARCUS : |
| Sit down, sweet niece:—brother, sit down by me.— |
| Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, |
| Inspire me, that I may this treason find!— |
| My lord, look here:—look here, Lavinia: |
| This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst, |
| This after me, when I have writ my name |
| Without the help of any hand at all. |
| [He writes his name with his staff, guiding it with feet and mouth.] |
| Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift!— |
| Write thou, good niece; and here display at last |
| What God will have discover'd for revenge: |
| Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, |
| That we may know the traitors and the truth! |
| [She takes the staff in her mouth, guides it with her stumps, and writes.] |
| TITUS : |
| O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? |
| 'Stuprum—Chiron—Demetrius.' |
| MARCUS : |
| What, what!—the lustful sons of Tamora |
| Performers of this heinous bloody deed? |
| TITUS : |
| Magni Dominator poli, |
| Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? |
| MARCUS : |
| O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know |
| There is enough written upon this earth |
| To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, |
| And arm the minds of infants to exclaims, |
| My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; |
| And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; |
| And swear with me,—as, with the woeful fere |
| And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, |
| Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,— |
| That we will prosecute, by good advice, |
| Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, |
| And see their blood, or die with this reproach. |
| TITUS : |
| 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. |
| But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: |
| The dam will wake; and if she wind you once, |
| She's with the lion deeply still in league, |
| And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, |
| And when he sleeps will she do what she list. |
| You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let alone; |
| And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, |
| And with a gad of steel will write these words, |
| And lay it by: the angry northern wind |
| Will blow these sands like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, |
| And where's our lesson, then?—Boy, what say you? |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| I say, my lord, that if I were a man, |
| Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe |
| For these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Rome. |
| MARCUS : |
| Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft |
| For his ungrateful country done the like. |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. |
| TITUS : |
| Come, go with me into mine armoury; |
| Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, |
| Shall carry from me to the empress' sons |
| Presents that I intend to send them both: |
| Come, come; thou'lt do my message, wilt thou not? |
| YOUNG LUCIUS : |
| Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. |
| TITUS : |
| No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course.— |
| Lavinia, come.—Marcus, look to my house: |
| Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; |
| Ay, marry, will we, sir: and we'll be waited on. |
| [Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and YOUNG LUCIUS.] |
| MARCUS : |
| O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, |
| And not relent, or not compassion him? |
| Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, |
| That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart |
| Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield; |
| But yet so just that he will not revenge:— |
| Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! |
| [Exit.] |
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