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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, stain 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 first-born fon.

Tit. Patient your self, Madam, and pardon me,
These are their brethren, whom you Goths behold
Alive and dead, and for their brethren Nain
Religiously they ask a facrifice;
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 Mutius, Marcus, Quintus and Lucius with

Alarbus.
Tam. O cruel irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?

Dem. Oppose 'not' Scytbia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus 3 'goes' to reft, 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 a tyrant in +'her tent,
May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths,

(When

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(a) Polymneftor, whose eyes were pull d out and fons murder'd by Hecuba, in revenge for bis having ireacherously sain her son Polydore, Euripid. in Hec. 3 go 4

his...old edit. Theob. emend.

2 me

(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was Queen) To quic her bloody wrongs upon her foes.

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 facrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought but to interr our brethren, And with loud Jarums welcome them to Rome.

Tit. Let it be fo, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewel to their souls.

[Then found trumpets, and lay the coffins in the tomb, In peace

and honour rest you here, my sons,
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
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 silence and eternal Neep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!

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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 obfequies :
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome.
Obless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortune Rome's best citizens applaud.

Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly s'preservid
The cordial of mine age, to glad mine heart !
Lavinia, live, out-live thy father's days,
6'In' fame's eternal date for virtue's praise !

Mar. 6 And ... old edit. Theob, emend.

5 reservd

Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher 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 safer 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 fons:
Be Candidatus chen, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits,
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness:
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chose with proclamations to-day,
Tomorrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And fet abroach new business for

you

all ?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country's strength successfully,
And buried one and twenty valiant fons,
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 controul the world.
Upright he held it, Lords, that held it last.

Mar. Titus, thou shalt 8/obtain the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canst thou tell?
Tit. Patience, prince 9'Saturnine !

Sat. 7 and 8 obtain and ask 9 Saturninus !

Sat. Romans, do me right!
Patricians, draw your fwords, and sheath them not
'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 fatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do 'till I die :
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,
I will most chankful 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 bestow 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 fort,
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 onfet, Titus, to advance

Thy

Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my Emperess,
Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon 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 sight 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 ensigns humbled at thy feet.

Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life.
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome shall 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 shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daupt all your hopes: Madam, who comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this ?

Lav. Not I, my Lord, sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesie.

Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go.
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free ;
Proclaim our honours, Lord, with trump and drum.

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