Dem. Madam depart at pleasure, leaue vs heere
Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy Foes
Tit. I know thou doo'st, and sweet reuenge farewell
Chi. Tell vs old man, how shall we be imploy'd? Tit. Tut, I haue worke enough for you to doe, Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine
Pub. What is your will? Tit. Know you these two? Pub. The Empresse Sonnes I take them, Chiron, Demetrius
Titus. Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceau'd, The one is Murder, Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them gentle Publius, Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them, Oft haue you heard me wish for such an houre, And now I find it, therefore binde them sure, Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the Empresse Sonnes
Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded. Stop close their mouthes, let them not speake a word, Is he sure bound, looke that you binde them fast.
Exeunt.
Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason.
Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound, Sirs stop their mouthes, let them not speake to me, But let them heare what fearefull words I vtter. Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius, Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud, This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt, You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd fault, Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off, and made a merry iest, Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere Then Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity, Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st. What would you say, if I should let you speake? Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace. Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you, This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats, Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold: The Bason that receiues your guilty blood. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me, And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste, And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare, And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads, And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam, Like to the earth swallow her increase. This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to, And this the Banquet she shall surfet on, For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter, And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd, And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small, And with this hatefull Liquor temper it, And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte, Come, come, be euery one officious, To make this Banket, which I wish might proue, More sterne and bloody then the Centaures Feast. He cuts their throats.
So now bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke, And see them ready, gainst their Mother comes.
Exeunt.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.
Luc. Vnckle Marcus, since 'tis my Fathers minde That I repair to Rome, I am content
Goth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will
Luc. Good Vnckle take you in this barbarous Moore, This Rauenous Tiger, this accursed deuill, Let him receiue no sustenance, fetter him, Till he be brought vnto the Emperours face, For testimony of her foule proceedings. And see the Ambush of our Friends be strong, If ere the Emperour meanes no good to vs
Aron. Some deuill whisper curses in my eare, And prompt me that my tongue may vtter forth, The Venemous Mallice of my swelling heart