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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, miftrefs of my heart,
And in the facred Pantheon her efpoufe:

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 prisoners;
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 least of these unspeakable deferts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, Madam, are you prifoner 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 chufe 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 difcontent

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, Romans, let us go.

Ran

Ranfomlefs here we fet our prifoners free;
Proclaim our honours, Lords, with trump and drum.
Baf. Lord Titus, by your leave this maid is mine.

[Seixing Lavinia, Tit. How, Sir? are you in earnest then, my Lord ? Baf. Ay noble Titus; and refolv'd withal,

To do my felf this reafon and this right.

[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb fhew.

Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman juftice:

This prince in justice seizeth but his own.

Luc. And that he will, and fhall, if Lucius live. Tit. Traitors, avant! where is the Emperor's guard ? Treafon, my Lord; Lavinia is furpriz'd.

Sat. Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf. By him that juftly may

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

Exit Baffianus 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.

[He kills him.

Luc. My Lord, you are unjust, and more than so,

In wrongful quarrel you have flain your fon.
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any fons of mine.

My fons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, reftore 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 flock;
I'll truft by leifure him that mocks me once,
Thee never, nor thy traiterous haughty foris,
Confederates all, thus to difhonour me.
Was there none elfe in Rome to make a ftale of
But Saturnine? full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,

B 3

That

That faid't, I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

Tit. O monftrous! what reproachful words are thefe ? Sat. But go thy ways; go give that changing piece, To him that flourish'd for her with his fword; A valiant fon-in-law thou fhalt enjoy :

One fit to bandy with thy lawless fons,

To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome:

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora Queen of Goths,
That, like the ftately Phoebe 'mong her nymphs,
Doft over-fhine the gallant'ft dames of Rome,
If thou be pleas'd with this my fudden choice,
Behold I chufe thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee Emperefs of Rome.
Speak, Queen of Goths, doft thou applaud my choice F
And here I fwear by all the Roman Gods,
(Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn fo bright, and every thing
I readiness for Hymenæus ftands,)

I will not re-falute the ftreets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, 'till from forth this place

I lead efpous'd my bride along with me.

Tam. And here in fight of heav'n to Rome I fwear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,

She will a handmaid be to his defires,

A loving nurfe, a mother to his youth.

Sat. Afcend, fair Queen, Pantheon; Lords, accompany Your noble Emperor, and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered : There fhall we confummate our spousal rites.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Manet Titus Andronicus.
Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Difhonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and Marcus
Mar. Oh, Titus, fee, oh, fee what thou haft done!

In a bad quarrel flain a virtuous fon.

Tit. No, foolifh Tribune, no: no son of mine, Nor thou, nor thefe confederates in the deed,

That

That hath dishonour'd all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy fons !

Luc. But let us give him burial as becomes,
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.

Tit. Traitors, away! he refts not in this tomb
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have fumptuously re-edified:

Here none but foldiers, and Rome's fervitors
Repose in fame: none bafely flain in brawls.
Bury him where you can, he comes not here,
Mar, My Lord, this is impiety in you;
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him,
He must be buried with his brethren.

Sons. And fhall, or him we will accompany.
Tit. And fhall? what villain was it fpake that word?
Quin. He that would vouch't in any place but here.
Tit. What, would you bury him in my defpighti
Mar. No, noble Titus, but intreat of thee,

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, ev'n thou haft ftruck upon my creft, And with these boys mine honour thou haft wounded. My foes I do repute you every one,

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

Luc. He is not well himself, let us withdraw.
Quin. Not I, 'till Mutius' bones be buried.

[The brother and the foss kneel.
Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,
Quin, Father, and in that name doth nature fpeak,-
Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the reft will speed.
Mar, Renowned Titus, more than half my foul !
Luc. Dear father, foul and substance of us all!
Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interr
His noble nephew here in virtue's neft,
That died in honour, and Lavinia's caufe.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous,
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
That flew himself; and wife Laertes' fon
Did graciously plead for his funerals,

Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

Tit. Rife, Marcus, rife

The difmall'ft day is this that e'er I faw,
To be dishonour'd by my fons in Rome :
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

[They put him in the Tomb. Luc. There lye thy bones, fweet Mutius, with thy friends, 'Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!

[They all kneel, and say,

No man fhed tears for noble Mutius!

He lives in fame, that died in virtue's cause.

Mar. My Lord, to ftep out of thefe dreary dumps, How comes it that the fubtle Queen of Goths

Is of a fudden thus advanc'd in Rome?

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but I know it is:
If by device or no, the heav'ns can tell :
Is the not then beholden to the man,

That brought her for this high good turn fo far?

[blocks in formation]

Flourish. Enter the Emperor, Tamora, Chiron, and Demetrius, with the Moor at one door. At the other door Baffianus and Lavinia with others.

Sat. So, Baffianus, you have plaid your prize; God give you joy, Sir, of your gallant bride!

Baf. And you of yours, my Lord; I fay no more, Nor wifh no lefs, and fo I take my leave.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

Baf. Rape call you it, my Lord, to feize my own,
My true betrothed love, and now my wife?
But let the laws of Rome determine all,
Mean while I am poffeft of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, Sir; you are very short with us,
But if we live, we'll be as fharp with you.
Baf. My Lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Answer I muft, and shall do with my life;
Only thus much I give your Grace to`know,
By all the duties which I owe to Rome,
This noble Gentleman, Lord Titus here,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd,"
That in the refcue of Lavinia,

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