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Ambitiously for rule and empery,
Know that the people of Rome, for whoin we stan:)
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 Goihs,
That with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hatlı yok'd 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'u
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;
your followers, and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
Bass. Marcus Andronicus, so I do afly
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 Followers of BASSIANUS. Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my
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 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.
Bass. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[Flourish. They go up into the Senate-house
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 retur , From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. [Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter two of
Tirus' Sons. After them two Men bearing a cofin covered with black : then two other Sons. After them Titus ANDRONICUS ; and then Tamora, the Queen of Goths, and her troo Sons, Chiron and DEMETRIUS, with Aaron the Moor, and others, as many as can be. They 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, 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 sheath 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 tom).
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 of mine hast 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 earthy 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 for her son :
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O think my son to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautify thy triumphs, and return
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
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 son.
Tit. Patient a yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are the 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,
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 Titus' Sons with ALARBUS.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?
Demet. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-same gods that arm’d the queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,)
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Enter the Sons of ANDRONICUS again, Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Reinaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Flourish. Sound trumpets, and they lay the
coffin in the tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons ;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps :
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons.
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 brethren’s 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 fortunez Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, thou hast thus lovingly reserva
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart !
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise.
Enter Marcus ANDRONICUS, SATURNINUS,
BASSIANUS, and others.
Marc. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
Marc. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars. You that survive, and you that sleep in fame :