Act 5 - Scene 1
Plains near Rome.
Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours
Approved warriors, and my faithful friends,
I have received letters from great Rome,
Which signify what
hate they bear their emperor
And how desirous of our sight they are.
Therefore, great lords, be, as your
Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,
And wherein Rome hath done you any scath,
him make treble satisfaction.
Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,
Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort;
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,
be avenged on cursed Tamora.
All the Goths
And as he saith, so say we all with him.
I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.
But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?
Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms
Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd
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 controll'd 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,
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
'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth;
when he knows thou art the empress' babe,
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.'
With this, my
weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him,
Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither,
To use as you think
needful of the man.
O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand;
This is the pearl that
pleased your empress' eye,
And here's the base fruit of his burning lust.
Say, wall-eyed slave, whither
wouldst thou convey
This growing image of thy fiend-like face?
Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a
A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree.
And by his side his fruit of bastardy.
Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood.
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