Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts! Bus. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, [Exeunt the Followers of Bassianus. Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all, and here dismiss you all; [Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me, Open the gates, and let me in. Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor. [Sat. and Bas go into the Capitol, and exeunt. with Senators, Marcus, &c. SCENE II. The same. Enter a Captain, and others. Cap. Romans, make way; The good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, Flourish of trumpets, &c. Enter Mutius and Martius: after them, two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then Quintus and Lucius. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, with Alarbus, Chiron, Demetrius, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People, following. The bearers set down the coffin, and Titus speaks. Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught, From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my sword. [The tomb is opened. There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! * Freight. Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacred. O sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons of mine hast thou in store, 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 t for her son: 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, • It was supposed that the ghosts of unburied peo ple appeared to solicit the rites of funeral. + Suffering. 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 l'amora 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 Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. [Trumpets sounded, and the coffins laid in 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. wars, You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame. The maxim alluded to is, that no man can be pronounced happy before his death. |