Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top,
Safe out of Fortune’s shot, and sits aloft,
Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning’s flash,
Advanced above pale envy’s threat’ning reach.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistening coach,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
So Tamora.
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart and fit thy thoughts
To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long
Hast prisoner held, fett’red in amorous chains,
And faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes
Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,
To wait upon this new-made empress.
To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen,
This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph,
This siren, that will charm Rome’s Saturnine,
And see his shipwrack and his commonweal’s.
Holla! What storm is this?
Now Tamora has climbed to the very top of Olympus, safe beyond Fortune's reach, sitting securely beyond lightning and thunder's power, raised above pale envy's threatening grasp. Like when the golden sun greets the morning and, having brightened the ocean with his beams, races the zodiac in his glittering chariot and overlooks the highest rising mountains; so Tamora. Upon her wit wait earthly honours, and virtue bows and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm your heart and prepare your thoughts to rise high with your imperial mistress, and claim her fully, you who have long held her as a prisoner in triumph, bound in loving chains and more firmly tied to Aaron's charming eyes than Prometheus is tied to his mountain. Away with slave's clothing and servile thoughts! I will be brilliant and shine in pearl and gold to serve this newly made empress. To serve, did I say? No, to seduce this queen, this goddess, this powerful woman, this siren who will enchant Rome's Saturnine and bring about his downfall and his kingdom's. Listen! What storm is this?
Now Tamora has climbed all the way to the top like Olympus itself—totally safe from bad luck, sitting high where lightning and storms can't touch her, way beyond anyone's jealousy. She's like the sun taking over the whole sky at dawn, shining brighter than everything. That's Tamora for you. People hang on her every word, and they shake when she frowns. So Aaron, you need to get ambitious and ready yourself to rise with your empress. You've had her wrapped around your finger this whole time, more chained to you than Prometheus is to his rock. Drop the servant act and get yourself some fancy things! I'm going to shine in gold and pearls serving this new queen. Well, serving—I mean seducing this queen, this goddess, this siren who'll destroy the emperor and his entire kingdom. Wait! What's that noise coming?
tamora rose to the top. shes so powerful now. im gonna get rich and shine. gotta make my move
Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wit wants edge
And manners, to intrude where I am graced,
And may, for aught thou knowest, affected be.
Chiron, your youth lacks wisdom, your wit lacks sharpness and good manners, to push yourself in where I already have standing, and you might find, for all you know, I'm already preferred.
Chiron, you're too young to be smart, you don't have the skill or manners to push in on what I've already got going. You probably don't even know if I'm already winning here.
ur too young and dont belong here
Demetrius, thou dost overween in all,
And so in this, to bear me down with braves.
’Tis not the difference of a year or two
Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate.
I am as able and as fit as thou
To serve and to deserve my mistress’ grace;
And that my sword upon thee shall approve,
And plead my passions for Lavinia’s love.
Demetrius, you overestimate yourself in everything, and this is no exception. A year or two age difference doesn't make me less worthy or you more fortunate. I'm just as able and just as fit as you to serve and earn my mistress' favour; and my sword will prove my passion for Lavinia's love.
Demetrius, you think way too much of yourself in everything, including this. A year or two doesn't mean I'm less worthy or you're luckier. I'm just as good as you at winning our mistress' favour. My sword will prove how much I love Lavinia.
ur not better than me. im just as good. my sword will prove it
[_Aside_.] Clubs, clubs! These lovers will not keep the peace.
Guards, guards! These lovers will not maintain the peace.
Help! These lovers are about to start fighting.
uh oh these lovers r bout 2 fight
Aaron's soliloquy at the top of this scene is one of the most revealing villain entrances in Shakespeare. He doesn't announce his evil — he announces his ambition. The speech is framed as celebration of Tamora's elevation, but its logical center is himself: she rises, therefore he rises with her. What makes Aaron genuinely disturbing is that he isn't subordinating himself to Tamora — he's claiming her as a vehicle.
The mythology he deploys tells you everything about his self-image. Semiramis (a byword for dangerous female power), Prometheus (the Titan who defied the gods), the sun-chariot racing the zodiac — these aren't compliments to Tamora so much as a mirror in which Aaron sees himself reflected as cosmic. He's not a servant elevated by association. He sees himself as the one who has been holding her in 'amorous chains' — as if Tamora's power is something he released rather than something she possesses.
The shift in the final line — 'To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen' — catches him correcting himself mid-sentence. Even in private he notices and scorns the servile language. That self-correction is a fingerprint: Aaron will never be content to serve. Watch for it throughout the play — every arrangement where Aaron seems to be assisting someone is actually Aaron maneuvering for himself.
Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised,
Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side,
Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends?
Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath
Till you know better how to handle it.
Why, boy, although our mother, without thinking, gave you a fancy sword at your side, are you so desperate to threaten your friends? Come on; keep your weak blade in its sheath until you know better how to handle it.
Look boy, even though our mother foolishly gave you a nice sword to wear, are you seriously going to threaten us with it? Come on, keep that thing in its sheath until you actually learn how to use it.
keep ur sword in its sheath til u learn to use it
Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
Meanwhile, sir, with the small skill I do have, you will very well see how brave I am.
Meanwhile, sir, with whatever little skill I've got, you're going to see exactly how much courage I have.
ill show u how brave i am
Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?
Yes, boy, are you getting so bold?
Yeah, boy, you're suddenly getting tough?
ur getting brave?
Why, how now, lords!
So near the emperor’s palace dare ye draw,
And maintain such a quarrel openly?
Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge.
I would not for a million of gold
The cause were known to them it most concerns;
Nor would your noble mother for much more
Be so dishonoured in the court of Rome.
For shame, put up.
Why, how now, lords! So near the emperor's palace you dare draw your swords and carry on such a quarrel openly? I well know what this grudge is about. I wouldn't for all the gold in the world that the cause were known to those it concerns most; nor would your noble mother for anything accept such dishonour in Rome's court. For shame, put up your swords.
Hey now, lords! You're drawing swords right near the emperor's palace and fighting so openly? I know exactly what this is about. I wouldn't want this getting back to the people who matter for all the money in the world, and your noble mother wouldn't want to be shamed in Rome's court. Come on, put those swords away.
put ur swords away. dont embarrass urselves here
Not I, till I have sheathed
My rapier in his bosom, and withal
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.
Not me, not until I've driven my sword into his chest, and forced those insulting words down his throat that he breathed out in my dishonour here.
Not me, not until my blade is in his chest and those awful things he said about me are shoved down his throat.
not til i run him through with my sword
When Demetrius exits quoting Seneca in Latin — 'Sit fas aut nefas... Per Stygia, per manes vehor' — he's doing something specific. Seneca's tragedies (Medea, Phaedra, Thyestes) were the canonical model for revenge drama in the Elizabethan period: they featured atrocities, passionate monologues, and a universe in which suffering had no ceiling.
Shakespeare is signaling his play's genre with that Latin. Titus Andronicus is deeply Senecan — more so than almost any other play in the canon. The formal language of tragic transgression ('right or wrong, I am driven through the underworld') is borrowed wholesale. Demetrius uses it to make himself sound like a Senecan hero fated by the stars, when he's actually a spoiled prince planning a gang rape.
The dark joke in that juxtaposition — heroic literary posturing over squalid, cowardly cruelty — was not accidental. Shakespeare was almost certainly writing with an audience of educated theatergoers in mind who would catch the Senecan reference and feel the gap between its tragic grandeur and the ugliness it's being applied to. The Latin is a kind of ironic framing device: this play knows what genre it's in and is already commenting on it.
For that I am prepared and full resolved,
Foul-spoken coward, that thund’rest with thy tongue,
And with thy weapon nothing dar’st perform.
For that I am ready and completely resolved, you foul-mouthed coward, who thunders with your tongue but does nothing with your weapon.
I'm ready and totally set for that, you loud-mouthed coward who roars with his mouth but won't actually fight.
im ready u coward. ur all talk
Away, I say!
Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,
This pretty brabble will undo us all.
Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous
It is to jet upon a prince’s right?
What, is Lavinia then become so loose,
Or Bassianus so degenerate,
That for her love such quarrels may be broached
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware! And should the empress know
This discord’s ground, the music would not please.
Stop it, I say! Now, by the gods that the warlike Goths worship, this silly fight will ruin us all. My lords, don't you think about how dangerous it is to interfere with a prince's rights? What, has Lavinia become so immoral, or has Bassianus become so shameful, that for her sake such quarrels can be started without any control, justice, or revenge? Young lords, be careful! And if the empress found out what caused this discord, she wouldn't like it.
Cut it out, I'm telling you! I swear by the gods the Goths worship, this stupid fight is going to destroy us all. My lords, don't you realize how dangerous it is to challenge a prince's rights? Has Lavinia become so shameless, or has Bassianus become so pathetic, that you can start fighting over her without anyone stopping you or punishing you? Young lords, watch out! And if the empress found out what this is really about, she'd be furious.
stop fighting! this will destroy us don't challenge a prince has lavinia become easy? if empress finds out she won't like it
I care not, I, knew she and all the world.
I love Lavinia more than all the world.
I don't care, I, even if she knew and all the world knew. I love Lavinia more than all the world.
I don't care even if she found out and everyone knew. I love Lavinia more than anything else.
i love her more than anything
Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice.
Lavina is thine elder brother’s hope.
Young fellow, learn to make some lower choice. Lavinia is your elder brother's love.
Young guy, you need to pick someone else. Lavinia is with your older brother.
shes with ur older brother
Why, are ye mad? Or know ye not in Rome
How furious and impatient they be,
And cannot brook competitors in love?
I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
By this device.
Why, are you crazy? Or don't you know in Rome how fierce and impatient they are, and can't stand rivals in love? I'm telling you, lords, you're just plotting your own deaths with this scheme.
Are you insane? Don't you know that Romans get violent about love and can't handle competition? You guys are literally planning your own deaths here.
ur crazy. ur plotting ur own deaths
Aaron, a thousand deaths
Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.
Aaron, a thousand deaths would be nothing compared to making her mine.
Aaron, I'd face a thousand deaths to win over the girl I love.
id die for her
Lavinia is not in this scene, and yet she is its entire subject. Three men discuss her for forty-odd lines and she never appears. The scene's craft lies in tracking how the language progressively strips her of personhood.
Demetrius begins with vaguely courtly language — 'wooed' and 'won' — but quickly slides into the mill proverb and the cut-loaf metaphor, where Lavinia becomes a thing to be consumed. Chiron speaks of her in terms of competition and possession. Aaron, who is the coldest of the three, never uses her name when he doesn't have to — she's 'this dainty doe,' a 'treasury,' a hunting target.
The rhetorical endpoint — 'revel in Lavinia's treasury' — is the scene's final image: a vault to be broken open and plundered. Treasury. Not a body, not a person — a store of wealth that belongs to someone else and can therefore be stolen.
This progressive dehumanization is the scene's actual horror, and it happens so efficiently that you might miss it on a first read. The language of the hunt, the language of the cut loaf, the language of competition — all three men agree on Lavinia's status as object before they agree on anything else. The plan Aaron proposes is terrible; the language that makes it possible is the thing that should keep you up at night.
To achieve her! How?
To win her over! How?
To get her! How?
how?
Why makes thou it so strange?
She is a woman, therefore may be wooed;
She is a woman, therefore may be won;
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
What, man, more water glideth by the mill
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know.
Though Bassianus be the emperor’s brother,
Better than he have worn Vulcan’s badge.
Why do you make it so strange? She is a woman, therefore she can be courted; she is a woman, therefore she can be won; she is Lavinia, therefore she must be loved. What, man, more water flows by the mill than the miller knows of; it's easy to steal a slice from a loaf already cut, we know. Though Bassianus is the emperor's brother, better men than he have worn the horns of a cuckold.
Why are you making this so complicated? She's a woman, so you can flirt with her; she's a woman, so you can win her; she's Lavinia, so obviously you love her. Look, tons of water goes past the mill that the miller never notices; it's easy to steal a piece from a loaf that's already cut. Even though Bassianus is the emperor's brother, plenty of better guys have been cheated on.
shes a woman. u can win her over. plenty of guys get cheated on
[_Aside_.] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.
Yes, and Saturninus could just as easily be cuckolded as anyone.
Absolutely, and Saturninus could get cheated on just like anyone else.
saturninus could b cheated on just as easy
Then why should he despair that knows to court it
With words, fair looks, and liberality?
What, hast not thou full often struck a doe,
And borne her cleanly by the keeper’s nose?
Then why should he lose hope if he knows how to court her with words, fair looks, and generosity? What, haven't you often hunted a doe and carried her off right past the keeper?
So why should he give up if he knows how to charm her with sweet words and nice gifts? Haven't you snuck a doe away from the keeper plenty of times before?
why give up if u know how to charm her
Why, then, it seems some certain snatch or so
Would serve your turns.
Well then, it seems some kind of quick grab or so would serve your purposes.
So it sounds like you guys just need to grab her quick and get what you want.
u just gotta grab her
Ay, so the turn were served.
Yes, as long as we got what we wanted.
Yeah, as long as we got our way.
yea as long as we get what we want
One underappreciated structural fact about Titus Andronicus: Aaron orchestrates almost every major atrocity in the middle of the play. He doesn't commit most of them himself — he designs them, directs the participants, and watches. In this scene you can see him in full director mode: he enters alone, establishes his intentions, then interrupts a brawl and redirects its energy into something far more destructive.
The sequence is deliberate and almost choreographed. He lets the brothers fight long enough to establish their desires; he stops them; he uses the threat of Tamora's displeasure to get their attention; he reframes their rivalry as shared opportunity; and finally he unveils a plan so specific it includes the setting (the forest), the method (force if charm fails), and the supporting cast (Tamora as adviser).
Shakespeare will give Aaron a full confession scene in 5-1 where he catalogs his crimes with relish — and this scene is the key to that one. The things Aaron plans here (the rape, Lavinia's mutilation, framing Titus's sons) aren't crimes of passion. They're products of sustained, creative malice. Aaron isn't driven by lust or jealousy. He is driven, as he tells us at the top of this scene, by ambition — and the atrocities are his art form. Keep watching for the moments where he seems almost disappointed when a plan succeeds too quickly.
Aaron, thou hast hit it.
Aaron, you've figured it out.
Aaron, you've got it.
u got it
Would you had hit it too!
Then should not we be tired with this ado.
Why, hark ye, hark ye, and are you such fools
To square for this? Would it offend you then
That both should speed?
I wish you had both succeeded already! Then we wouldn't be tired with this talk. Why, listen, listen, and are you such fools to fight over this? Would it offend you if both of you got what you wanted?
I wish you both had already done it! Then we wouldn't be having this long argument. Come on, are you guys crazy about fighting over this? What if you both got what you wanted?
why not both get what u want
Faith, not me.
Honestly, not me.
No, not me.
not me
Nor me, so I were one.
Nor me, as long as I were one of them.
Not me, as long as I'm part of it.
im in if im one of them
For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar.
’Tis policy and stratagem must do
That you affect; and so must you resolve
That what you cannot as you would achieve,
You must perforce accomplish as you may.
Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste
Than this Lavinia, Bassianus’ love.
A speedier course than ling’ring languishment
Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand;
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop.
The forest walks are wide and spacious,
And many unfrequented plots there are
Fitted by kind for rape and villainy.
Single you thither, then, this dainty doe,
And strike her home by force, if not by words.
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit
To villainy and vengeance consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all what we intend;
And she shall file our engines with advice
That will not suffer you to square yourselves,
But to your wishes’ height advance you both.
The emperor’s court is like the house of Fame,
The palace full of tongues, of eyes and ears;
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull.
There speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns;
There serve your lust, shadowed from heaven’s eye,
And revel in Lavinia’s treasury.
Shame on you, be friends and work together on what you're fighting about. Cunning and strategy must achieve what you want; and so you must accept that what you cannot accomplish the way you'd prefer, you must accomplish however you can. Believe me: Lucrece was not more virtuous than this Lavinia, Bassianus' wife. We must pursue a faster course than lingering pining, and I have found the path. My lords, a formal hunt is being organized; the lovely Roman ladies will gather there. The forest paths are wide and empty, and there are many remote spots naturally suited for assault and violence. Single out this delicate woman there, and take her by force, if not by persuasion. This is your only hope. Come, come, our empress, with her clever mind dedicated to crime and vengeance, we will tell of our intentions; and she will guide our plans with advice that won't let you hesitate, but will advance you both toward your desires. The emperor's court is like the hall of Fame, the palace full of gossip, spies, and eavesdroppers; the woods are cruel, dreadful, silent, and empty. There speak and act, brave boys, and take your turns; there satisfy your lust, hidden from heaven's sight, and take what Lavinia has.
For shame, be friends and team up on what you're fighting over. You need strategy and cunning to get what you want; and you need to understand that if you can't do it the nice way, you'll have to do it however you can. Trust me: Lavinia is just as virtuous as Lucrece, and she's Bassianus' wife. We need to move faster than just pining away, and I know how to do it. My lords, there's a fancy hunting trip coming up; all the beautiful Roman ladies will be there. The forest is huge and has empty spots, and there are plenty of isolated areas perfect for taking what you want by force. Get that delicate woman alone in the woods, and take her by force if you can't seduce her. That's your only shot at getting her. Listen, our empress, who's brilliant and loves revenge and crime, will help us with this plan; she'll give us advice that will keep you from second-guessing yourselves, and will help you both get what you want. The emperor's court is like a public hall, the palace full of gossip, spies and watchers; the forest is wild, scary, empty and silent. There you can act, boys, and get what you want; there you can have your way hidden from everyone, and enjoy what Lavinia has to offer.
stop fighting work together strategy gets results lavinia's out hunting forest is empty and isolated take her by force empress will help court has spies forest is silent and safe take what you want
Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.
Your advice, lad, doesn't sound like cowardice.
Your plan, buddy, doesn't smell like cowardice.
ur advice isnt cowardly
_Sit fas aut nefas_, till I find the stream
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits,
_Per Stygia, per manes vehor._
Whether right or wrong, until I find a way to cool this heat, a charm to calm these desires, I am driven through the paths of the underworld.
Right or wrong, I'll find a way to cool this heat, some kind of way to calm myself, even if I have to go through hell itself.
ill cool down this heat no matter what
The Reckoning
This scene does something quietly horrifying: it reframes a petty brotherly squabble over a woman into a coordinated atrocity, and the audience watches Aaron engineer every step with cold relish. Chiron and Demetrius don't become monsters here — they already were; Aaron just gives them a map. What lingers is the ease of it: how quickly lust tips into conspiracy, and how completely Lavinia is already an object in every man's calculation.
If this happened today…
Aaron is the chief of staff who walks in on two junior associates screaming at each other in the open-plan office over who gets credit for a project, realizes their rivalry is about to blow up the whole firm, and in thirty seconds pivots: 'You're both thinking too small. Here's what we actually do.' He doesn't moralize, he doesn't take sides — he just turns their energy into a plan. And the plan is unspeakable. The meeting ends with everyone nodding as if they've just aligned on Q3 strategy.