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Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my sword :
Titus, urikind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st 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 great in filence, as the dead are wont,
And Neep in peace, Nain in your country's wars :
O lacred 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 1 shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons 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?
O! if to fight for King and common-weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these :
Andronicus, ftain 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 fird-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 straight.
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs, 'till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeunt Mulius, Marcus, Quintus and Lucius,
Tam. O cruel irreligious piety !
Cbi. Was ever Scytbia half so barbarous ?
Dem. Oppose not Scyrbia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
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 Goths,
(When Gotbs were Goths, and Tamora was Queen)
To quit her bloody wrongs upon her focs.
Enter Mutius, Marcus, Quintus and 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 Reme.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewel to their souls.
[Tben found trumpets, and lay the coffins in the tomb, In peace and honour rest you here, my sons, Rome's readieft champions, repose you heren 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 here, my sons !
Polymnesfor, whose eỹes were pulld out and funs murdered by Hecaba, in revenge for his having treacheroully lain her son Polydore. Euripid. in Hec. Vol. VIII,
S CE NE 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, qut-live thy father's days,
In fame's eternal date for virtue's praise !
Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious trinmpher 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 fafer 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 bettet head her glorious body fits,
Than his that shakes for age and 'feebleness :
What should I don this robe, and tremble you?
Be chose with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroache new bufiness for you all ?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country's ftrength successfull},
And buried one and twenty valiant sons,
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 control the world.
Upright he held it, Lords, that held it last.
Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canit thou tell ?
Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine !
Sat. Romans, do me right!
Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them nog
'Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor,
Andronicus, would thou wert shipt 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 most 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 fuffrages;
Will you beftow them friendly on Andronicus ?
Mar. To gratifie the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.
Tit. 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 sort,
Patricians and Plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor;
And say, Long live our Emperor Saturnine !
[A long 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 deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness :
And for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my Emperess,
Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantbeon her espouse :
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 consecrate
My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners ;
Presents well worthy Rome's imperial Lord.
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour's enligns humbled at thy feet.
Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life.
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome Thall record ; and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.
Tit. Now, Madam, are you prisoner to an Emperor,
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 [To Tamora, That I would chuse, were I to chuse a-new : Clear up, fair Queen, that cloudy countenance ; Tho' chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou com't not to be made a scorn in Rome : Princely fall be thy usage 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 Gorbs. Lavinis, you are not displeas'd with this?
Lav. Not I, my Lord, fith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesie. Sat, Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Rimans, let us go.