Titus Andronicus
1594
Titus Andronicus
1594
Translated by Paavo Emil Cajander
A tragedy written in the late 16th century. The play explores themes of revenge, political strife, and the consequences of war, largely focusing on the character of Titus Andronicus, a Roman general returning home from a victorious campaign. As he faces treachery and betrayal, the narrative unfolds into a harrowing tale of grief and vengeance amidst a backdrop of Roman grandeur and barbarism. At the start of the play, we are introduced to the political landscape of Rome, with Saturninus and Bassianus vying for the imperial crown. Following the return of Titus Andronicus, a celebrated military leader, the tension escalates as he must navigate the political machinations surrounding him, including the appeal of his daughter Lavinia and the exotic yet dangerous Tamora, the Queen of the Goths. The opening scenes establish the somber mood with a focus on themes of fate and familial loyalty, as Titus grapples with the losses of his sons and the demands of a political role that may not befit him, thus foreshadowing the tragic events that will ensue.
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“Villain, what hast thou done?Aaron: That which thou canst not undo.Chiron: Thou hast undone our mother.Aaron: Villain, I have done thy mother.””
— William Shakespeare
“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head””
— William Shakespeare
“Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?AARON. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day- and yet, I think,Few come within the compass of my curse-Wherein I did not some notorious ill;As kill a man, or else devise his death;Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it;Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself;Set deadly enmity between two friends;Make poor men's cattle break their necks;Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,And bid the owners quench them with their tears.Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,And set them upright at their dear friends' doorEven when their sorrows almost was forgot,And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,Have with my knife carved in Roman letters'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful thingsAs willingly as one would kill a fly;And nothing grieves me heartily indeedBut that I cannot do ten thousand more.””
— William Shakespeare
“Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;Who, though they cannot answer my distress,Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes,For that they will not intercept my tale:When I do weep, they humbly at my feetReceive my tears and seem to weep with me;And, were they but attired in grave weeds,Rome could afford no tribune like to these.””
— William Shakespeare
“Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day”
— William Shakespeare
“O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb?I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done:Ten thousand worse than ever yet I didWould I perform, if I might have my will;If one good deed in all my life I did,I do repent it from my very soul.””
— William Shakespeare
“Come and take choice of all my library and so beguile thy sorrow.””
— William Shakespeare
“Coal-black is better than another hue,In that it scorns to bear another hue;For all the water in the oceanCan never turn the swan's black legs to white,Although she lave them hourly in the flood.””
— William Shakespeare
“O, why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies?””
— William Shakespeare
