« PreviousContinue »
Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead!
[The tomb is opened.
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 unappeasid, Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth.
Tit. I give him you; the noblest that survives,
To beautify thy triumphs, and return,
Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
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 Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and
Mutius, with Alarbus.
Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,) To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius,
with their swords bloody. Luc. See, lord and father, how we have per
form'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth 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 farewel to their souls.
[Trumpets sounded, and the coffins laid 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, 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 fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly re
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Saturninus, Bassianus,
and Others Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triúmpher in the eyes of Rome! Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar
cus. Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful
wars, You that survive, and you that sleep 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, and 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 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 chosen with proclamations to-day;
To-morrow, yield up rule, resign my life,
all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my country's strength successfully; And buried one and twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country: Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a scepter to control the world: Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the em
pery. Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou
tell? Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine. Sat.
Romans, do me right;— Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor:Andronicus, 'would thou wert shipp'd 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 them
Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices, and your suffrages;