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 and irreligious piety!

Chi. Was ever Scythia half fo barbarous ?
Dem. Oppofe not Seythia 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 fharp 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 perforin'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopt,
And entrails feed the facrificing fire;

Whofe fmoke, like incenfe, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome then to Rome.
Tit. Let it be fo, and let Andronicus

Make this his latest farewell 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 danined grudges, here no storms, No noise, but filence and eternal night.

SCE NE III:

Enter Lavinia...

In peace and honour reft you here, my fons.
Lav. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long

* Polymneftor, whofe eyes were pulled out, and fons murdered by Hecuba in revenge for his having treacherously flain her fon Polydore. Eurip. in Hec.

My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo! at this tomb my tributary tears
1 render, for my brethren's obfequies;
And at thy feet I kneel with tears of joy,
Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome.
Oblefs me here with thy victorious hand,
Whole fortume Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, that haft thus lovingly referv'd l
The cordial of mine age to glad mine heart!
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And Fame's eternal date, for Virtue's praife!
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 fuccessful

wars,

You that furvive, and you that sleep in fame;
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country's fervice drew your fwords,
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 justice thou haft ever been,
Send thee, by me their Tribune and their trust,
This palliament of white and fpotlefs hue,
And name thee in election for the empire
With these our late-deceafed 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 fhakes for age and feeblenefs:
What! should I don this robe, and trouble you? 2.
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 fer ice of their noble country.
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,

f

But not a fceptre to control the world.

Upright he held it, Lords, that held it last.

Mar. Titus, thou fhalt obtain and ask the empery. Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canft thou tell?

Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus.

Sat. Romans, do me right.

Patricians, draw your fwords, and sheath them not
'Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor.

Andronicus, 'would thou were fhipt 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 reftore 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.

Th. People of Rome, and noble tribunes here,
I ask your voices and your fuffrages;

Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Mar. To gratify the good Andronicus,

And gratulate his fafe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Ti 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 justice 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 lang flourish, 'till they come down.
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 Emprefs,

Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the facred Pantheon her efpouse.

Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion pleafe 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 hall record; and when I do forget
The leaft of thefe unspeakable deferts,
Romans forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, Madam, are you prifoner to an Em-

peror;

[To Tamora. 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 That I would chufe, were I to chufe anew.

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 courtefy.

Sat. Thanks, fweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go.. Ranfomlefs here we set our prifoners free; Proclaim our honours, Lords, with trump and drum. Baf. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is [Seizing Lavinia.

mine.

Tit. How, Sir? are you in earneft then, my Lord? Baf. Ay, noble Titus; and refolv'd withal To do myfelf this reafon and this right.

[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb shew. Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman juftice: This Prince in justice feizeth but his own.

Luc. And that he will, and fhall, if Luicus live. Tit. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the Emperor's Treafon, my Lord; Lavinia is furpriz'd. [guard? Sat Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf. By him that juftly may

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exit Ballianus with Lavinia:

SCENE

IV.

Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my fword I'll keep this door fecure.
Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll foon bring her
back.

Mut. My Lord, you pass not here-
Tit. What! villain-boy,

Barr'ft me my way in Rome?
Mut. Help, Lucius, help!

[Titus kills Mutius.

Luc. My Lord, you are unjuft, and more than fo; In wrongful quarrel you have flain your fon. Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any fons of mine; My fons would never fo dithonour me. Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor.

Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promis'd love.

Sat. No, Titus, no, the Emperor needs her not; Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: I'll truft by leifure him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traiterous haughty fons, Confederates all thus to difhonour me.

Was there none else in Rome to make a ftale of,
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,

Agree thefe deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That faid'ft I begg'd the Empire at thy hands.
Tit. O monftrous! what reproacnful words are
these?