Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome, Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice: To this your son is mark'd; and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight; And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd. [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with Alarbus. Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ? To tremble under Titus' threatening look. Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,) To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with their swords bloody. Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Make this his latest farewell to their souls. [Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Enter Lavinia. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd Enter Marcus Andronicus, Saturninus, Bassianus, and others. Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome ! Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus. Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame. You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. That in your country's service drew your swords : And help to set a head on headless Rome. Tit. 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; To-morrow, yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, 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. Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine. Sat. Romans, do me right;— Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor :Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd 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! The maxim alluded to is, that no man can be pronounced happy before his death. i. e. Do on, put it on. † A robe. Tit. Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves. Bas. 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. Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, Lord Saturninus, Rome's great emperor; [A long flourish. Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: The sun's. The wide world's emperor,-do I consecrate Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an em peror; [To Tamora. To him that, for your honour and your state, Will use you nobly, and your followers. Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome: Lav. Not I, my lord; sith* true nobility Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia.-Romans, let us go: Ransomeless here we set our prisoners free: Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord? Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal, To do myself this reason and this right. [The emperor courts Tamora in dumb show. Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice: This prince in justice seizeth but his own. Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. * Since. |