Puslapio vaizdai

Here Goths have given me leave to fheath my fword:
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why fuffer'st thou thy fons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful fhore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren. [They open the tomb.
There great in filence, as the dead are wont,
And fleep in peace, flain in your country's wars:
Oacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many fons of mine haft thou in ftore,
That thou wilt never render to me more!

Luc. Give us the proudeft prifoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile,
Ad manes Fratrum facrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly prison of their bones :
That fo the fhadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

Tit. I give him you, the nobleft that furvives,
The eldest fon of this diftreffed Queen.

Tam. Stay, Roman brethren, gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in paffion for her fon:
And if thy fons were ever dear to thee,
O think my fons to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome,
To beautifie thy triumphs and return,
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoak?
But muft my fons be flaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's caufe?
O! if to fight for King and common-weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these :
Andronicus, ftain not thy tomb with blood.
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the Gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful;
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
Thrice noble Titus, fpare my first-born fon.

Tit. Patient your felf, Madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren, whom you Goths behold
Alive and dead, and for their brethren flain
Religiously they ask a facrifice;

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To this your fon is markt, and die he muft, T' appease their groaning fhadows that are gone. Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight. And with our fwords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean confum'd. [Exeunt Mutius, Marcus, Quintus and Lucius. with Alarbus.

Tam. O cruel irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half fo barbarous ?
Dem. Oppofe not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to reft, and we furvive
To tremble under Titus' threatning looks.
Then, Madam, ftand refolv'd; but hope withal,
The felf-fame Gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge

Upon the Thracian * tyrant in her tent
May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was Queen)
To quit her bloody wrongs upon her foes.

Enter Mutius, Marcus, Quintus and Lucius.

Luc. See, Lord and father, how we have perform'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopt,
And intrails feed the facrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incenfe, doth perfume the fky.
Remaineth nought but to interr our brethren,
And with loud larums welcome them to Rome.

Tit. Let it be fo, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewel to their fouls.

[Then found trumpets, and lay the coffins in the tomb. In peace and honour reft you here, my fons, Rome's readieft champions, repofe you here Secure from worldly chances and mishaps : Here lurks no treafon, here no envy fwells, Here grow no damned grudges, here no ftorms, No noife: but filence and eternal sleep : In peace and honour reft you here, my fons!

* Polymneflor, whofe eyes were pull'd out and fons murder'd by Hecaba, in revenge for his having treacherously fain her fon Polydore. Euripid. in Hec.



SCENE III. Enter Lavinia.
Lav. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long,
My noble Lord and father, live in fame!
Lo at this tomb my tributary tears
I render, for my brethrens obfequies':
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome.
O bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whofe fortune Rome's best citizens applaud.

Tit. Kind Rome, that haft thus lovingly preferv'd
The cordial of mine age, to glad mine heart!
Lavinia, live, out-live thy father's days,
In fame's eternal date for virtue's praise !

Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious trinmpher in the eyes of Rome !

Tit. Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus.
Mar. And welcome, nephews, from fuccessful wars,
You that furvive, and you that fleep in fame :
Fair Lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country's fervice drew your (words.
But fafer triumph is this funeral pomp
That hath afpir'd to Solon's happiness,
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whofe friend in juftice thou haft ever been,
Send thee by me their Tribune, in their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue,
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late deceased Emperor's fons ;
Be Candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to fet a head on headless Rome.

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits,
Than his that shakes for age and feeblenefs :
What should I don this robe, and tremble you?
Be chofe with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, refign my life,
And fet abroach new bufinefs for you all?
Rome, I have been thy foldier forty years,
And led my country's ftrength fuccessfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant fons,


Knighted in field, flain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country.
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a fceptre to control the world.
Upright he held it, Lords, that held it last.
Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canft thou tell?
Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine !
Sat. Romans, do me right!

Patricians, draw your fwords, and sheath them not
"Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor.
Andronicus, would thou wert shipt to hell,
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!

Tit. Content thee, prince, I will restore to thee
The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.
Baf. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,

But honour thee, and will do 'till I die:
My faction if thou ftrengthen with thy friends,
I will moft thankful be; and thanks, to men
Of noble minds, is honourable meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and noble Tribunes here,
I ask your voices, and your fuffrages;
Will you beftow them friendly on Andronicus?
Mar. To gratifie the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his fafe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you, and this fuit I make,
That you create your Emperor's eldest fon,
Lord Saturnine; whofe virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome, as Titan's rays on earth,
And ripen juftice in this common-weal.
Then if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and fay, Long live our Emperor!
Mar. With voices and applaufe of every fort,
Patricians and Plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor;
And fay, Long live our Emperor Saturnine!
[A long flourish 'till they come down.

B 2


Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day, I give thee thanks in part of thy deferts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: And for an onfet, Titus, to advance Thy name, and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my Emperefs, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the facred Pantheon her espouse: Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? Tit. It doth, my worthy Lord; and in this match, I hold me highly honour'd of your Grace : And here in fight of Rome, to Saturninus, King and commander of our common-weal, The wide world's Emperor, do I confecrate My fword, my chariot, and my prifoners; Prefents well worthy Rome's imperial Lord. Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour's enfigns humbled at thy feet.

Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life.
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome fhall record; and when I do forget
The leaft of thefe unfpeakable deferts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, Madam, are you prisoner to an Emperor,
To him that for your honour and your state
Will ufe you nobly, and your followers.

Sat. A goodly Lady, truft me, of the hue [To Tamora, That I would chufe, were I to chuse a-new : Clear up, fair Queen, that cloudy countenance; Tho' chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou com'ft not to be made a fcorn in Rome: Princely fhall be thy ufage every way. Reft on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: Madam, who comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not difpleas'd with this?

Lav. Not I, my Lord, fith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtefie.

Sat. Thanks, fweet Lavinia, Remans, let us go.


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