And now prepare your Throats: Lavinia, come,
Receive the Blood, and when that they are dead
Let me go grind their Bones to Powder small,
And with this hateful Liquor temper it;
And in that Pafte let their vile Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious

To make this Banquet, which I wifh might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs Fealt.

[He cuts their Throats So, now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook, And fee them ready 'gainft the Mother comes. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prifoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my Father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.

Goth. And ours with thine, befal what Fortune will.
Luc. Good Uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous Tiger, this accurfed Devil,
Let him receive no Sustenance, fetter him,
'Till he be brought unto the Emperor's Face,
For Teftimony of thefe foul proceedings;
And fee the Ambush of our Friends be strong,
I fear the Emperor means no good to us.

Aar. Some Devil whisper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tongue may utter forth
The venomous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc. Away, inhuman Dog, unhallow'd Slave,

[Exeunt Goths with Aaron. Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in. [Flourish The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.

Sound Frumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes

and others.

Sat. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thy felf a Sun?

Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, Thefe Quarrels must be quietly Debated:

The Fealt is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honourable end,

For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome:
Pleafe you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
Sat. Marcus, we will,
[Hautboys

A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the Meat
on the Table, and Lavinia with a Veil over her Face.
Tit. Welcome, my gracious Lord, Welcome dread Queen,
Welcome, ye Warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor,
Twill fill your Stomachs, please you eat of it.
Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?
Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well,
To entertain your Highness, and your Emprefs.

t

Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. Tit. And if your Highnefs knew my Heart, you'were; My Lord, the Emperor, refolve me this;

Was it well done of rafh Virginius,

To flay his Daughter with his own Right-Hand,
Because fhe was enforc'd, ftain'd, and deflour'd?
Sat. It was, Andronicus. ›

Tit. Your Reason, mighty Lord?

Sat. Because the Girl fhould not furvive her Shame, And by her Prefence ftill renew his Sorrows.

Tit. A Reafon mighty, ftrong, and effectual,

A Pattern, Prefident and lively Warrant,

For me, moft wretched, to perform the like:-
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy Shame with thee,

And with thy Shame thy Father's Sorrow die. [He kills her.
Sat. What haft thou done, unnatural and unkind?

Tit. Kill'd her for whom my Tears have made me blind. I'am as waful as Virginius was,

And have a thousand times more Caufe than he.

Sat. What, was fhe ravifh'd? tell, who did the Deed?
Tit. Will't please you eat, Will't please you Highness feed 3
Tam. Why haft thou flain thine only Daughter thus?
Tit. Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.

They ravish'd her, and cut away her Tongue,
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this Wrong.
Sat. Go fetch them hither to us prefently.

Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pye,
Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed
Eating the Flesh that she her felf hath bred.

Tis true, 'tis true, witness my Knife's fharp point.

[He ftabs the Empress.

Saty

Sata Die, frantick Wretch, for this accurfed Deed.

[He ftabs Titus,

Lue. Can the Son's Eye behold his Father bleed? There's meed for meed, Death for a deadly Deed.

[Lucius fabs the Emperor
Mar. You fad-fac'd Men, People and Sons of Rome,
By uprore fever'd, like a flight of Fowl,
Scatter'd by Winds and high tempeftuous Gufts,
Oh let me teach you, how to knit again
This fcatter'd Corn into one mutual Sheaf,
Thefe broken Limbs again into one Body.
Goth. Let Rome her felf be bane unto her self,
And the whom mighty Kingdoms curtsie to,
Like a forlorn and defperate Caft-away,
Do fhameful Execution on her self.

Mar. But if my frosty signs and chaps of Age,
Grave Witneffes of true Experiencè,
Cannot induce you to attend my Words,
Speak, Rome's dear Friend; as erft our Ancestor,

[To Lucius
When with his folemn Tongue he did discourse
To Love-fick Dido's fad attending Ear,
The Story of that baleful-burning Night,
When fubtile Greeks furpriz❜d King Priam's Troy:
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our Ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal Engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Rome the civil wound.
My Heart is not compact of Flint nor Steel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter Grief,

But floods of Tears will drown my Oratory,
And break my very utterance; even in the time
When it fhould move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind Hand, Commiferation.
Here is a Captain, let him tell the Tale,

Your Hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Luc. This Noble Auditory, be it known to you,
That curfed Chiron and Demetrius,

Were they that Murdered our Emperor's Brother;
And they it were that ravifhed our Sifter:
For their fell faults our Brothers were Beheaded,

Our

Our Father's Tears defpis'd, and bafely cozen'd
Of that true Hand, that fought Rome's Quarrel out,
And fent her Enemies into the Grave.
Laftly, my felf unkindly Banished,

The Gates fhut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's Enemies,

Who drown'd their enmity in my true Tears,
And op'd their Arms to embrace me as a Friend:
And I am turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preferv'd her welfare in my Blood,
And from her Bofem took the Enemy's point,
Sheathing the Steel in my adventrous Body.
Alas, you know I am no Vaunter, I,
My Scars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my Report is juft, and full of Truth:
But foft, methinks I do digress too much,
Citing my worthlefs Praife: Oh pardon me,
For when no Friends are by, Men praise themselves.
Mar. Now is my Tongue to fpeak: Behold this Child,
Of this was Tamora delivered,

The Iffue of an irreligious Moor,

Chief Architect and Plotter of these woes;
The Villain is alive in Titus' House,

And as he is, to witness this is true.
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
Thefe wrongs, unfpeakable, paft Patience,
Or more than any living Man could bear.

Now you have heard the truth, what say you Romans ?
Have we done ought amifs? fhew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
poor remainder of Andronicus,

The

We'll Hand in Hand all headlong caft us down,
And on the ragged Stones beat out our Brains,
And make a mutual closure of our House:
Speak, Romans, fpeak, and if you fay we shall,
Lo Hand in Hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Em. Come, come, thou Reverend Man of Rome,
And bring our Emperor gently in thy Hand,
Lucius our Emperor: For well I know,
The common Voice do cry it fhall be fo.

Mar

Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rome's Royal Emperor;
Go, go into old Titus's forrowful House,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd fome direful flaughtering Death,
As punishment for his moft wicked Life.
Lucius all hail! Rome's gracious Governor.

Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans, may I Govern fo,
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe
But, gentle People, give me aim a while,
For Nature puts me to a heavy Task:
Stand all aloof; but Uncle draw you near,
To fhed obfequious Tears upon this Trunk:
Oh take this warm Kifs on thy pale cold Lips,
Thefe forrowful drops upon thy Blood-ftain'd Face;
The laft true Duties of thy Noble Son.

Mar. Ay, Tear for Tear, and loving Kiss for Kifs,
Thy Brother Marcus tenders on thy Lips:
O were the fum of thefe that I fhould pay,
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.

Luc. Come hither Boy, come, come, and learn of us
To melt in Showers, thy Grand-fire lov'd thee well;
Many a time he danc'd thee on his Knee;
Sung thee afleep, his loving Breaft thy Pillow:
Many a matter hath he told to thee;

Meet and agreeing with thy Infancy.
In that refpect then, like a loving Child,

Shed yet fome small drops from thy tender Spring,
Because kind Nature doth require it fo;

Friends fhould affociate Friends, in Grief and Woe:
Bid him farewel, commit him to the Grave,

Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Boy. O Grand-fire, Grand-fire! even with all my Heart) Would I were dead, fo you did live again---O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weepingMy Tears will choak me, if I ope my Mouth. Enter Romans with Aaron.

Rom. You fad Andronici, have done with Woes, Give Sentence on this execrable Wretch,.

That hath been breeder of thefe dire Events.