The Lamentable and Tragical History of Titus Andronicus; with the
Fall of his 25 Sons, in the Wars of Goths, with the manner of the Ravishment of his Daughter La[vini]a
by the Empresses two Sons, through the means of a Bloody Moor, taken by the Sword of Titus, in the
War; with his Revenge upon their Cruel and Inhumane Act.
To the Tune of, Fortune my Foe.
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YOu Noble minds, and famous Martial Wights,
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That in defence of Native Countries fights,
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Give ear to me that ten years fought for Rome,
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Yet reap'd disgrace at my returning home.
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In Rome I liv'd in fame full threescore years
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My name beloved was of all my peers,
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Full five and twenty valiant Sons I had,
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Whose forward vertues made their Father glad,
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For when Romes foes their warlike forces felt
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Against them still my Sons and I were sent;
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Against the Goths full ten years weary war
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We spent, receiving many a bloody scar.
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Just two and twenty of my sons were slain,
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Before I did return to Rome again;
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Of five and twenty Sons I brought but three
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Alive, the stately tower of Rome to see.
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When wars were done, I conquest home did bring,
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And did present my prisoners to the King:
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The Queen of Goths, her Sons, and eke a Moor,
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Who did such Murders like were none before.
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The Emperor did make the Queen his wife,
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Which bread in Rome debate and deadly strife:
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The Moor with her two Sons did grow so proud,
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That none like them in Rome might be allow'd.
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The moor so pleased this new Empress eye
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That she consented to him secretly:
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For to abuse her husbands Marriage bed,
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And so in time a Blackamore she bred.
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Then she whose thoughts to Murder was inclind
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Consented with the moor with bloody mind,
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Against my self, my kin, and all my friends,
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In cruel sort to bring them to their ends.
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So when in age I thought to live in peace,
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Both care and grief began then to encrease;
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Amongst my Sons I had one daughter bright,
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Which joy'd and pleased best my aged sight.
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My Lavinia was betrothed then
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To Caesers Son, a young and noble man:
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Who in a hunting, by the Emperors wife
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And her two Sons, bereaved were of life.
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He being slain was cast in cruel wise,
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Into a darksome den from light of Skies,
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The cruel moor did come that way as then,
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With my three Sons who fell into the den.
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The Moor then fetcht the Emperor with speed,
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For to accuse them of that murderous deed:
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And when my Sons within the den was found,
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In wrongful prison were they cast and bound.
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B[U]t now behold what wounded most my mind
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The Empresses two Sons of Tygers kind
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My Daughter ravished without remorse,
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And took away her honour quite perforce.
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When they had tasted of so sweet a Flower,
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Fearing this sweet should turned be to sower:
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They cut her tongue whereby she could not tell
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How that dishonour unto her befell.
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Then both her hands they basely cut off quite,
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Whereby their wickedness she could not write
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Nor with her needle on her sampler Sow,
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The bloody workers of her dismal woe.
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My Brother Marcus found her in the wood,
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Staining the grassie ground with purple blood
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That trickled from her stumps & handless arms
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No tongue at all she had to tell her harms,
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But when I saw her in that woful case,
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With tears of blood I wet my aged face;
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For my Lavinia I lamented more,
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Then for my two and twenty sons before.
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When as I saw she could not write nor speak
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With grief my aged heart began to break,
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We spread a heap of sand upon the Ground,
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Whereby the bloody Tyrants out we found.
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For with a staff without the help of hand,
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She writ these words upon a plat of Sand:
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The lustful Sons of the proud Emperess,
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Are doers of this hateful wickedness.
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I tore the milk-white hairs from off my head
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I curst the hour wherein I first was bred,
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I wisht the hand that fought for Countrys fame
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In cradle rockt had first been strucken lame.
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The Moor delighting still in villany,
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Did say to set my Sons from prison free,
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I should unto the King my right hand give
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And then my three imprisoned sons should live
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The Moor I caus'd to strike it off with speed,
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Whereat I grieved not to see it bleed,
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But for my Sons would willingly impart,
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And for their ransome send my bleeding heart.
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But as my life did linger thus in vain,
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They send to me my bootless hand again:
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And therewithal the heads of my three Sons,
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Which fil'd my dying heart with fresher groan
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Then past relief I up and down did go
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And with my tears writ in the dust my woe,
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I shot my arrows toward heaven high
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And for revenge to hell did often cry.
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The Empress thinking then that I was mad,
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Like furies she and both her Sons were glad:
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So nam'd revenge, and rape on murder they,
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To undermine and hear what I would say.
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I fed their foolish veins a little space,
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Until my friends did find a secret place,
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Where both her Sons unto a post was bound,
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Where just revenge in cruel sort was found.
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I cut their throats, my daughter held the pan
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Betwixt her stumps, wherein the blood it ran:
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And then I ground their bones to powder small
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And made a paste for Pies straight therewithal.
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Then with their flesh I made two mighty pies,
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And at a banquet serv'd in stately wise:
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Before the Empress set this loathsome meat,
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So of her sons own flesh she well did eat.
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My self bereav'd my Daughter then of life,
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The Empress then I slew with bloody Knife,
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And stab'd the Emperor immediately,
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And then my self, even so did Titus dye.
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Then this revenge against the Moor was found,
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Alive they set him half into the ground;
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Whereas he stood until such time he starv'd,
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And so God send all Murtherers may be serv'd.
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