Название | The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition |
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Автор произведения | William Shakespeare |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9788027223596 |
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.
TITUS.
A better head her glorious body fits
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
What, should I don this robe and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
Tomorrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroach new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country’s strength successfully,
And buried one-and-twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country:
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world;
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
MARCUS.
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
SATURNINUS.
Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
TITUS.
Patience, Prince Saturninus.
SATURNINUS.
Romans, do me right;—
Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them not
Till Saturninus be Rome’s Emperor.—
Andronicus, would thou were shipp’d to hell
Rather than rob me of the people’s hearts!
LUCIUS.
Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!
TITUS.
Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
The people’s hearts, and wean them from themselves.
BASSIANUS.
Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do till I die.
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
I will most thankful be; and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.
TITUS.
People of Rome, and people’s tribunes here,
I ask your voices and your suffrages:
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
TRIBUNES.
To gratify the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.
TITUS.
Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make,
That you create your emperor’s eldest son,
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome as Titan’s rays on earth,
And ripen justice in this commonweal:
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and say ‘Long live our Emperor!’
MARCUS.
With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor;
And say ‘Long live our Emperor Saturnine!’
[A long flourish.]
SATURNINUS.
Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done
To us in our election this day
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness;
And for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my empress,
Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
TITUS.
It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
I hold me highly honoured of your grace:
And here in sight of Rome, to Saturnine,—
King and commander of our commonweal,
The wide world’s emperor,—do I consecrate
My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners;
Presents well worthy Rome’s imperious lord:
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet.
SATURNINUS.
Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts
Rome shall record; and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.
TITUS.
[To TAMORA.] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor;
To him that for your honour and your state
Will use you nobly and your followers.
SATURNINUS.
A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue
That I would choose, were I to choose anew.—
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
Thou com’st not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Rest on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you
Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.—
Lavinia, you are not displeas’d with this?
LAVINIA.
Not I, my lord, sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
SATURNINUS.
Thanks, sweet Lavinia.—Romans, let us go:
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
[Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show.]
BASSIANUS.
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
[Seizing LAVINIA.]
TITUS.
How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?
BASSIANUS.
Ay, noble Titus; and resolv’d withal
To do myself this reason and this right.
MARCUS.
Suum cuique is our Roman justice:
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
LUCIUS.
And that he will and shall, if Lucius live.