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| Spoiler Alert!! Tereus may be Titus Andronicus |
Tereus of Thrace with his relieving force
Had routed them and won a victor's fame;
And, seeing he was strong in wealth and men
And, as it happened, traced his lineage From Mars* himself,
Pandion gave his child, Procne, in marriage, thus to link their lines.
Tereus' and Procne's marriage gave delight
To Thrace,
Now season followed season, as the sun
Led on the years; five autumns glided by,
And Procne coaxed her husband, 'If my love
Finds any favour, give me leave to visit
My sister, or invite my sister here,
Giving my father your sure word that she
Will soon return. To see her once again
Will be a gift most precious.' So her husband
Had his ship launched,
King Pandion gave him audience,
And hand clasped hand, their meeting, seemed set fair.
He had begun to speak of Procne's plan,
...
suddenly
In entered Philomela, richly robed
In gorgeous finery, and richer still
Her beauty...
The sight of her set Tereus' heart ablaze
As stubble leaps to flame when set on fire,
Or fodder blazes, stored above the byre.
Her looks deserved his love; but inborn lust
Goaded him too, for men of that rough race
Are warm for wenching.
Tereus has a decision to make:
Huge gifts, and pay his kingdom for the price—
Or ravish her and then defend the rape
In bloody war. Nothing he would not do,
Nothing not dare, as passion drove unreined,
A furnace barely in his heart contained.
Tereus cries tears to persuade Pandion to let Philomel go!
Hapless girl,
She thinks they both have won a victory,
Though what both won will end in tragedy.
They get back to Thrace. He drags her off to the woods to rape... leaves her there with an armed guard. He tells Procne (his wife) that Philomela is dead. Philomela reacts to his brutality:
Tereus' and Procne's marriage gave delight
To Thrace,
Now season followed season, as the sun
Led on the years; five autumns glided by,
And Procne coaxed her husband, 'If my love
Finds any favour, give me leave to visit
My sister, or invite my sister here,
Giving my father your sure word that she
Will soon return. To see her once again
Will be a gift most precious.' So her husband
Had his ship launched,
King Pandion gave him audience,
And hand clasped hand, their meeting, seemed set fair.
He had begun to speak of Procne's plan,
...
suddenly
In entered Philomela, richly robed
In gorgeous finery, and richer still
Her beauty...
The sight of her set Tereus' heart ablaze
As stubble leaps to flame when set on fire,
Or fodder blazes, stored above the byre.
Her looks deserved his love; but inborn lust
Goaded him too, for men of that rough race
Are warm for wenching.
Tereus has a decision to make:
Huge gifts, and pay his kingdom for the price—
Or ravish her and then defend the rape
In bloody war. Nothing he would not do,
Nothing not dare, as passion drove unreined,
A furnace barely in his heart contained.
Tereus cries tears to persuade Pandion to let Philomel go!
Hapless girl,
She thinks they both have won a victory,
Though what both won will end in tragedy.
They get back to Thrace. He drags her off to the woods to rape... leaves her there with an armed guard. He tells Procne (his wife) that Philomela is dead. Philomela reacts to his brutality:
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| "The Rape of Philomela by Tereus", book 6, plate 59. Engraved by Johann Wilhelm Baur for a 1703 edition of Ovid's Metamorphoses |
With outstretched hands, 'You brute! You cruel brute!
Do you care nothing for the charge, the tears
Of my dear father, for my sister's love,
For my virginity, your marriage vows?
All is confused! I'm made a concubine,
My sister's rival; you're a husband twice,
And Procne ought to be my enemy!
He keeps her there, guarded. She threatens to tell all. He cuts out her tongue.
Procne discovers the deceit.
Then Procne, in a flame
Of anger uncontrolled, sweeping aside
Her sister's tears, 'This is no time for tears,
But for the sword', she cried, 'or what may be
Mightier than the sword.
For any crime I'm ready, Philomel! I'll set on fire
These royal roofs and bury in the blaze
That scheming fiend. I'll gouge his wicked eyes!
She gets their son: you are so like your father! Cuts up the son and serves him to Tereus.
Do you care nothing for the charge, the tears
Of my dear father, for my sister's love,
For my virginity, your marriage vows?
All is confused! I'm made a concubine,
My sister's rival; you're a husband twice,
And Procne ought to be my enemy!
He keeps her there, guarded. She threatens to tell all. He cuts out her tongue.
Procne discovers the deceit.
Then Procne, in a flame
Of anger uncontrolled, sweeping aside
Her sister's tears, 'This is no time for tears,
But for the sword', she cried, 'or what may be
Mightier than the sword.
For any crime I'm ready, Philomel! I'll set on fire
These royal roofs and bury in the blaze
That scheming fiend. I'll gouge his wicked eyes!
She gets their son: you are so like your father! Cuts up the son and serves him to Tereus.
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| Depiction of Philomela and Procne showing the severed head of Itys to his father Tereus, engraved by Baur for a 1703 edition of Ovid's Metamorphoses (Book VI:621–647) |
Below his ribs, and never even looked
Away; one wound sufficed to seal his fate.
And Philomela slit his throat. Alive,
And breathing still, they carved and jointed him,
And cooked the parts; some bubbled in a pan,
Some hissed on spits; the closet swam with blood.
Then to the banquet Procne called her husband,
Unwitting, unsuspecting, and dismissed
The courtiers and servants: on this day,
So she pretended, at her father's court,
This holy day, the husband dines alone.
So, seated high on his ancestral throne,
King Tereus dines and, dining, swallows down
Flesh of his flesh, and calls, so dark the night
That blinds him, 'Bring young Itys here to me!'
Oh joy! She cannot hide her cruel joy,
And, bursting to announce her deed of doom,
'You have him here', she cries, 'inside!' and he
Looks round, asks where he is, and, as he asks
And calls again, in rushes Philomel,
The King is found out.
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