Auf. No more.

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. 'Boy!' O slave!
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever

I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie and his own notion-
Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave-shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.

First Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. 'Boy!' false hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli;

Alone I did it.

Auf.

'Boy!'

Why, noble lords,

Let him die for 't.

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears ? All Consp. All the People. 'Tear him to pieces.' killed my son.' 'My daughter.' Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'

'Do it presently.' 'He He killed my cousin

Sec. Lord. Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
The man is noble, and his fame folds-in
This orb o' the earth.

His last offences to us

O that I had him,

Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

Cor.

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!

Auf.

Insolent villain!

All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

Lords.

[The Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus: Aufidius stands on his body.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

First Lord.

Hold, hold, hold, hold!

O Tullus,

Sec. Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. Third Lord. Tread not upon him.

Put up your swords.

Masters all, be quiet ;

Auf. My lords, when you shall know-as in this rage
Provoked by him, you cannot-the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice

That he is thus cut off.

Please it your honours

To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

First Lord.

Bear from hence his body;

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corse that ever herald

Did follow to his urn.

Sec. Lord.

His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

Auf.

My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up:
Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
Assist.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus.
A dead march sounded.

ANDRONICUS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

SATURNINUS, son to the late Emperor of
Rome, afterwards emperor.
BASSIANUS, brother to Saturninus.
TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman.
MARCUS ANDRONICUS, tribune of the
people, and brother to Titus.
LUCIUS,
QUINTUS,

MARTIUS, J

MUTIUS,

sons to Titus Andronicus.

YOUNG LUCIUS, a boy, son to Lucius.

PUBLIUS, son to Marcus Andronicus.
EMILIUS, a noble Roman.

ALARBUS,

DEMETRIUS,

CHIRON,

sons to Tamora.

AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora.
A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and
Clown; Romans and Goths.

TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.

LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
A Nurse, and a black Child.

Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendant.
SCENE: Rome, and the country near it.

ACT I-SCENE I

Rome. Before the Capitol. The Tomb of the
Andronici appearing.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft. And then enter below, Saturninus and his Followers from one side, and Bassianus and his Followers from the other side, with drum and colours.

Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.

Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right,
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,

Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

Enter Marcus Andronicus, aloft, with the crown.
Marc. Princes, that strive by factions and by friends
Ambitiously for rule and empery,

Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party, have by common voice,

In election for the Roman empery,

Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius

For many good and great deserts to Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,

Lives not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accited home

From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,

Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field.

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat, by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
That you withdraw you and abate your strength,
Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy

In thy uprightness and integrity,

And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,

And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
And to my fortunes and the people's favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

[Exeunt the Followers of Bassianus.
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 myself, my person and the cause.

[Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus.

Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.

Open the gates, and let me in.

Bas. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.

[Flourish. Saturninus and Bassianus go up into the Capitol.

Enter a Captain.

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,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Drums and trumpets sounded.

Enter Martius and Mutius ; after them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then Lucius and Quintus. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora Queen of Goths, with Alarbus, Demetrius, Chiron, 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 discharged her fraught.
Returns with precious lading to the bay

From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
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 amongst their ancestors :

Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.

Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,

Why suffer'st thou thy sons, 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 sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!

O sacred receptacle of my joys,

Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many sons hast thou of mine 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 earthy prison of their bones,
That so the shadows be not unappeased,