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Andronicus
    Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily,And be my heart an ever-burning hell!These miseries are more than may be borne.To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal;But sorrow flouted at is double death.
    Lucius
    Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound,And yet detested life not shrink thereat!That ever death should let life bear his name,Where life hath no more interest but to breathe!
    Lavinia kisses Titus
    Marcus Andronicus
    Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortlessAs frozen water to a starved snake.
    Titus Andronicus
    When will this fearful slumber have an end?
    Marcus Andronicus
    Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus;Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons’ heads,Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here:Thy other banish’d son, with this dear sightStruck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I,Even like a stony image, cold and numb.Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs:Rend off thy silver hair, thy other handGnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sightThe closing up of our most wretched eyes;Now is a time to storm; why art thou still?
    Titus Andronicus
    Ha, ha, ha!
    Marcus Andronicus
    Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
    Titus Andronicus
    Why, I have not another tear to shed:Besides, this sorrow is an enemy,And would usurp upon my watery eyesAnd make them blind with tributary tears:Then which way shall I find Revenge’s cave?For these two heads do seem to speak to me,And threat me I shall never come to blissTill all these mischiefs be return’d againEven in their throats that have committed them.Come, let me see what task I have to do.You heavy people, circle me about,That I may turn me to each one of you,And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs.The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head;And in this hand the other I will bear.Lavinia, thou shalt be employ’d: these arms!Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth.As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight;Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay:Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there:And, if you love me, as I think you do,Let’s kiss and part, for we have much to do.
    Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia
    Lucius
    Farewell Andronicus, my noble father,The wofull’st man that ever lived in Rome:Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again,He leaves his pledges dearer than his life:Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister;O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been!But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia livesBut in oblivion and hateful griefs.If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs;And make proud Saturnine and his empressBeg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen.Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power,To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.
    Exit

S CENE II. A ROOM IN T ITUS ’ S HOUSE . A BANQUET SET OUT .
    Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia and Young Lucius, a boy
    Titus Andronicus
    So, so; now sit: and look you eat no moreThan will preserve just so much strength in usAs will revenge these bitter woes of ours.Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands,And cannot passionate our tenfold griefWith folded arms. This poor right hand of mineIs left to tyrannize upon my breast;Who, when my heart, all mad with misery,Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,Then thus I thump it down.
    To Lavinia
    Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating,Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans;Or get some little knife between thy teeth,And just against thy heart make thou a hole;That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fallMay run into that sink, and soaking inDrown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears.
    Marcus Andronicus
    Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to laySuch violent hands upon her tender life.
    Titus Andronicus
    How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I.What violent hands can she lay on her life?Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of