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Commit my cause in ballance to be weigh’d. [Exe. Soldiers,
Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all, and here dismiss you all; And to the love and favour of my country Commit my self, my person and the cause : Rome, be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in. Baf. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[Tbey go up into the Senate-house SCENE II. Enter a Captain. Cap. Romans, make way: the good Andronicus, , Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battels that he fights, With honour and with fortune return'd From whence he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoak the enemies of Rome, Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter Mutius and Mars
cus: after them, two men bearing a coffin cover'd will black; tben Quintus and Lucius. After them Titus Andronicus ; and then Tamora, the Queen of Goths, Alarbus, Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moor, prifoners ; Soldiers, and other Attendants. They set down the coffin, and Titus speaks.
Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her freight,
Returns with precious lading to the bay,
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, .
Cometh Andronicus with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears ;
Tears of true joy, for his return to Romé.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend !
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poor remains alive and dead!
These that survive, let Rome reward with love;
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial among their ansettors,
Here Goths have given me leave to heath my sword :-
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Whý fuffer's thou thy fons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ?
Make way to lay them by their brethren. [They open the tomb,
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And Neep in peace, flain in your country's wars :
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many fons of mine haft thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more !
Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile,
Ad manes Fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly prison of their bones :
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth.
Tit. I give him you, the noblest that survives,
The eldest son of this distressed Queen.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren, gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And if thy fons were ever dear to thee,
O think my sons 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 must my sons be Naughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
0! if to fight for King and common-weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these :
Andronicus, stain 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, spare my first-born son.
Tit. Patient your self, Madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren, whom you Gorbs behold
Alive and dead, and for their brethren Nain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice ;
To this your son is markt, and die he must,
T'appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
Luc. Away with him, and make a fire ftraight,
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs, 'till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeupe Mutius, Marcus, Quintus and Lucius
Tam. O cruel irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scyrbia half so barbarous ?
Dem. Oppose not Scyrbia to ambitious Rome.
Aarbus goes to rest, and we furvive
To tremble under Titus' threatning looks.
Then, Madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-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 Goobs,
(When Gorbs were Gorbs, and Tamora was Queen)
To quit her bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Enter Mutius, Marcus, Quintus ard Lucius,
Luc, See, Lord and father, how we have perform’d
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopt,
And intrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought but to interr our brethren,
And with loud larums welcome them to Rome,
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronıcựs
Make this his lateft farewel to their souls.
[Tben found trumpets, and lay tbe coffins in the somb,
In peace and honour reft you here, my fons,
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps :
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges, here no storms,
No noise : but filence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you bere, my fons !
• Polymneflor, whose eyes were pulled out and sons murder'd by
Hecubi, in revenge for his having treacherously Nain ber fon Polydors.
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 obsequies :
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,
Whose fortune Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly preserv’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 triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Tit. Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus,
Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive, and you that neep in fame : Fair Lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country's service drew your swords. But safer triumph is this funeral pomp That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness, And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast 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 sons : Be Candidatus then, and put it on, 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 chose with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And fet abroach new business for you all ?
Rome, I have been thy foldier forty years,
And led my country's strength successfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant fons,
Knighted in field, Nain 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 controul the world.
Upright he held it, Lords, that held it last.
Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain 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 Mipt 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 strengthen 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 suffrages;
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus ?
Mar. To gratifie the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.
Tii. Tribunes, I thank you, and this suit I make,
That you create your Emperor's eldest son,
Lord Saturnine; whose 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 say, Long live our Emperor !
Mar. With voices and applause of every fort,
Patricians and Plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor ;
And say, Long live our Emperor Saturnine !
[A long hourish 'till they come down,