Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?

I know from whence this same device proceeds.

May this be borne?-As if his traitorous sons,

That died by law for murder of our brother,

Have by my means been butchered wrongfully!

Go, drag the villain hither by the hair.

Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.

For this proud mock I’ll be thy slaughterman,

Sly frantic wretch, that holp’st to make me great

In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.

Enter Aemilius, a messenger

SATURNINUS

What news with thee, Aemilius?

AEMILIUS

Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause.

The Goths have gathered head, and with a power

Of high-resolvèd men bent to the spoil

They hither march amain under conduct

Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus,

Who threats in course of this revenge to do

As much as ever Coriolanus did.

SATURNINUS

Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?

These tidings nip me, and I hang the head,

As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.

Ay, now begins our sorrows to approach.

’Tis he the common people love so much.

Myself hath often heard them say,

When I have walked like a private man,

That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully,

And they have wished that Lucius were their emperor.

TAMORA

Why should you fear? Is not your city strong?

SATURNINUS

Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius,

And will revolt from me to succour him.

TAMORA

King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.

Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,

And is not careful what they mean thereby,

Knowing that with the shadow of his wings

He can at pleasure stint their melody.

Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome.

Then cheer thy spirit; for know thou, Emperor,

I will enchant the old Andronicus

With words more sweet and yet more dangerous

Than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep

Whenas the one is wounded with the bait,

The other rotted with delicious feed.

SATURNINUS

But he will not entreat his son for us.

TAMORA

If Tamora entreat him, then he will,

For I can smooth and fill his aged ears

With golden promises that, were his heart

Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf,

Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.

(To Aemilius) Go thou before to be our ambassador.

Say that the Emperor requests a parley

Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting

Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus.

SATURNINUS

Aemilius, do this message honourably,

And if he stand on hostage for his safety,

Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.

AEMILIUS

Your bidding shall I do effectually. Exit

TAMORA

Now will I to that old Andronicus,

And temper him with all the art I have

To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths.

And now, sweet Emperor, be blithe again,

And bury all thy fear in my devices.

SATURNINUS

Then go incessantly, and plead to him.

Exeunt severally

5.1 ⌈Flourish.⌉ Enter Lucius with an army of Goths, with drummers and soldiers

LUCIUS

Approved warriors and my faithful friends,

I have received letters from great Rome

Which signifies what hate they bear their emperor

And how desirous of our sight they are.

Therefore, great lords, be as your titles witness,

Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs,

And wherein Rome hath done you any scath

Let him make treble satisfaction.

A GOTH

Brave slip sprung from the great Andronicus,

Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,

Whose high exploits and honourable deeds

Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,

Be bold in us. We’ll follow where thou lead’st,

Like stinging bees in hottest summer’s day

Led by their master to the flowered fields,

And be avenged on cursed Tamora.

GOTHS

And as he saith, so say we all with him.

LUCIUS

I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?

Enter a Goth, leading of Aaron with his child in his

arms

GOTH

Renowned Lucius, from our troops I strayed

To gaze upon a ruinous monastery,

And as I earnestly did fix mine eye

Upon the wasted building, suddenly

I heard a child cry underneath a wall.

I made unto the noise, when soon I heard

The crying babe controlled with this discourse:

‘Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam!

Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,

Had nature lent thee but thy mother’s look,

Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor.

But where the bull and cow are both milk-white

They never do beget a coal-black calf.

Peace, villain, peace!’—even thus he rates the babe—