The Lamentable and Tragical HISTORY
OF
TITUS ANDRONICUS;
WITH
The Fall of his Sons in the Wars of the Goths: With the Manner of the
Ravishment of his Daughter Lavinia, by the Empresss 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 inhu-
mane Act. To the Tune of, Fortune my Foe, etc.
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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 reapd Disgrace at my returning Home.
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In Rome I livd 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 Virtues 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 bred 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 allowd.
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The Moor so pleased this new Empresss Eye,
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That she consented to him secreetly;
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For to abuse her Husbands Marriage Bed,
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And so in time a Black-a-moor 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 myself, 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 joyd and pleased best my aged Sight.
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My Lavinia was betrothed then
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To Caesars 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 was 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 fetchd 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 were found,
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In wrongful Prison were they cast and bound.
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But now behold what wounded most my Mind,
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The Empresss two Sons, of Tygers kind,
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My Daughter ravished without remorse,
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And took away her Honour quite per Force.
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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 befel.
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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 grassy Ground with purple Blood;
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That trickled from her Stumps and 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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Than 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 wrote these Words upon a Plat of Sand:
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The lustful Sons of the proud Empress,
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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 wishd the Hand that fought for Countrys Fame,
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In Cradle rockd, had first been stricken lame.
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The Moor delighting still in villany,
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Did say, to set my Sons from Prisons 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 causd 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 there withal the Heads of my three Sons,
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Which filld my dying Heart with fresher Groans.
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Then past relief, I up and down did go,
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And with my Tears wrote in the Dust my woe;
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I shot my Arrows towards 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 namd Revenge, and Rape, and Murther, 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 there withal.
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Then with their Flesh I made two mighty Pies,
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And at a Banquet servd 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 bereavd my Daughter then of Life,
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The Empress then I slew with bloody Knife:
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And stabd the Emperor immediately,
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And then myself, 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 starvd,
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And so God send all Murtherers may be servd.
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