A speedier course than ling’ring languishment

Must we pursue, and I have found the path.

My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;

There will the lovely Roman ladies troop.

The forest walks are wide and spacious,

And many unfrequented plots there are,

Fitted by kind for rape and villainy.

Single you thither then this dainty doe,

And strike her home by force, if not by words,

This way or not at all stand you in hope.

Come, come; our Empress, with her sacred wit

To villainy and vengeance consecrate,

Will we acquaint with all what we intend,

And she shall file our engines with advice

That will not suffer you to square yourselves,

But to your wishes’ height advance you both.

The Emperor’s court is like the house of Fame,

The palace full of tongues, of eyes and ears,

The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull.

There speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns.

There serve your lust, shadowed from heaven’s eye,

And revel in Lavinia’s treasury.

CHIRON

Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.

DEMETRIUS

Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream

To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits,

Per Styga, per manes vehor. Exeunt

2.2 Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sons (Quintus, Lucius, and Martius), and Marcus, making a noise with hounds and horns

TITUS

The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,

The fields are fragrant and the woods are green.

Uncouple here, and let us make a bay

And wake the Emperor and his lovely bride,

And rouse the Prince, and ring a hunter’s peal,

That all the court may echo with the noise.

Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours,

To attend the Emperor’s person carefully.

I have been troubled in my sleep this night,

But dawning day new comfort hath inspired.

Here a cry of hounds, and wind horns in a peal;

then enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia,

Chiron, Demetrius, and their attendants

Many good-morrows to your majesty.

Madam, to you as many, and as good.

I promised your grace a hunter’s peal.

SATURNINUS

And you have rung it lustily, my lords,

Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.

BASSIANUS

Lavinia, how say you?

LAVINIA

I say no.

I have been broad awake two hours and more.

SATURNINUS

Come on then, horse and chariots let us have,

And to our sport. (To Tamora) Madam, now shall ye see

Our Roman hunting.

MARCUS

I have dogs, my lord,

Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase,

And climb the highest promontory top.

TITUS

And I have horse will follow where the game

Makes way, and run like swallows o’er the plain.

DEMETRIUS (aside)

Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound,

But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. Exeunt

2.3 Enter Aaron alone, with gold

AARON

He that had wit would think that I had none,

To bury so much gold under a tree

And never after to inherit it.

Let him that thinks of me so abjectly

Know that this gold must coin a stratagem

Which, cunningly effected, will beget

A very excellent piece of villainy.

And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest

That have their alms out of the Empress’ chest.

He hides the gold.

Enter Tamora alone to the Moor

TAMORA

My lovely Aaron, wherefore look‘st thou sad

When everything doth make a gleeful boast?

The birds chant melody on every bush,

The snakes lies rolled in the cheerful sun,

The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind

And make a chequered shadow on the ground.

Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,

And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,

Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,

As if a double hunt were heard at once,

Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise,

And after conflict such as was supposed

The wand’ring prince and Dido once enjoyed

When with a happy storm they were surprised,

And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave,

We may, each wreathed in the other’s arms,

Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber

Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds

Be unto us as is a nurse’s song

Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.

AARON

Madam, though Venus govern your desires,

Saturn is dominator over mine.

What signifies my deadly-standing eye,

My silence, and my cloudy melancholy,

My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls

Even as an adder when she doth unroll

To do some fatal execution?

No, madam, these are no venereal signs.

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,

Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul,