Cym.

How ?-My issue?

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are), these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty,
Excited me to treason; their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose

Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :—
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym.

Thou weep't, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons. Bel.

Be pleas'd awhile.This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwall, Arvirágus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the band Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce. Cym.

Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.

How parted with your brothers? how first met

them ?

Why fled you from the court ? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,

From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place,
Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.
[To BELARIUS.
Imo. You are my father, too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.
All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful, too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo.

Сут.

My good master,

Happy be you!

1 will yet do you service.
Luc.
Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a king.

Post.

I am, sir,

The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose 1 then follow'd ;-That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach.
I am down again: [Kneeling.
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech
you,

Which I so often owe: but, your ring first;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post.

Kneel not to me;

The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: live, And deal with others better.

Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; when from a stately cedur shall be lopp'd branches, which being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall POSTHUMUS end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much: The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [To CYMBELINE.

Which we call mollis aer; aud mollis aer,
We term it mulier; which mulier, I divine,
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
Cym.
This hath some seeming,
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Cym.
Well,
My peace we will begin :-and, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,

And to the Roman empire; promising

To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen:
Whom heavens, in justice (both on her, and hers,)
Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'a: for the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun
So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle,
The imperial Cæsar should again unite

SCENE I.-Rome. Before the Capitol. The tomb of the Andronici appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, below, SATURNINUS and his Followers, on one side; and BASSIANUS and his Followers, on the other; 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 wore 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, Romaus, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Mar. 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 their 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 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'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!

Bus. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy nobler 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 my 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. [SAT. and BAs. go into the Capitol, and exeunt with Senators, MARCUS, &c.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter a Captaiu 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 return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of trumpets, &c. Enter MUTIUS and MARTIUS; after them, two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then QUINTUS and LUCIUS. After them, TiTUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALAR BUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, 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 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 vet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx P
Make way to lay them by their brethreu.

[The tomb is opened.
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 earthly 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 kings 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, apare my first-born son.

Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are their 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,
To appease
their groaning shadows that are gone.
Luc. Away with him; and make a fire straight;
And with your 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.

Tam. O, cruel, irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
Dem. 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.
Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS,
with their swords bloody.

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. 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 farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded, and the coffins laid in the tomb. In peace and honour rest you here, my sous; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Jere grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:

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, thou bast thus lovingly reserv'd
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, BASSIA-
NUS, and others.

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 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 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 chosen with proclamations to-day;
To-morrow, yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
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 sceptre to control the world:
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell P

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 themselves. Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,

But honour thee, and will do till I die;

My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends,

I will most thankful be: and thanks, to men

Of noble minds, is honourable meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,

I ask your voices, and your suffrages;

Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus ?
Trib. To gratify 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 sort,
Patricians, and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor;
And say,-Long live our emperor Saturnine!
[A long flourish.
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 onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my empress,

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 Saturnine,-
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 TAMORA. 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 That I would choose, were I to choose anew.

Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance;

Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,

Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.
Rest on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes. Madam, he 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 courtesy.
Sat. Thauks, sweet Lavinia.-Romans, let us go:
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
[Seizing LAVINIA.

Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord? Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal, To do myself this reason and this right.

[The Emperor courts TAMORA in dumb show. Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice: The prince in justice seizeth but his own.

Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
Tit. Traitors, avaunt! where is the emperor's
guard ?

Treason, my lord; Lavinia is surpris'd.
Sat. Surpris'd! by whom?
Bas.
By him that justly may
Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exeunt MARCUS and BASSIANUS, with LAVINIA. Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.

[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS. Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. Mut. My lord, you pass not here.

Tit. What, villain boy! Barr'st me my way in Rome? [TITUS kills MUTIUS. Mut. Help, Lucius, help! Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. My lord, you are unjust; and, more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
Tit. Nor thou nor he are any sons of miue:

My sons would never so dishonour me:
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.

Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promis'd love.

[Exit.

Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.

Was there none else in Rome to make a stale of,
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That saidst, I begg'd the empire at thy hands.
Tit. Oh monstrous! what reproachful words are
these?

Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword:
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of
Goths,-

That like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs,
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome,-
If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee emperess of Rome,

Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou appland my choice ?
And here I swear by all the Roman Gods,-
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
Aud tapers burn so bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymeneus stand,-

I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place

I lead espous'd my bride along with me.

Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires,

A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.

Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon:-lords, accom.

pany

Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquer'd: There shall we consummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt SATURNINUS and his Followers; TAMORA and her sons; AARON and GOTHS.

Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride;-
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?
Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS.
Mar. O, Titus, see, O, see, what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,-
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed
That hath dishonour'd all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!

Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Give Matius burial with our brethren.

Tit. Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb.
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified:
Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors,
Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:-
Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
Mar. My lord, this is impiety in
you:
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him;
He must be buried with his brethren.

Quin. Mart. And shall, or him we will accompany.
Tit. And shall? what villain was it spoke that word?
Quin. He that would vouch't in any place but here.
Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite ?
Mar. No, noble Titus; but intreat of thee
To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And, with these boys, mine honour thou ha stwounded: My foes I do repute you every one;

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
Mart. He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.

[MARCUS and the sons of TITUS kneel.
Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead.
Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature speak.
Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,-
Luc. Dear father, soul and substance of us all,-
Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
That died in honour and Lavinia's cause.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax,
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son
Did graciously plead for his funerals.
Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

Tit.

Rise, Marcus, rise;

The dismall'st day is this, that e'er I saw,
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome !—
Well, bury him, and burv me the next.

[MUTIUS is put into the tomb. Luc. There lie thy boues, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,

Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!-
All. No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
Mar. My lord,-to step out of these dreary dumps,-
How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome?

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is;
Whether by device, or no, the heavens can tell:
Is she not then beholden to the man
That brought her for this high good turn so far?
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
Flourish. Re-enter, at one side, SATURNINUS, attend
ed; TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, and AARON:
at the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others.
Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize;

God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
Bas. And you of yours, my lord: I say no more,
Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My true-betrothed love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us;
But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Answer I must, and shall do it with my life.
Only thus much I give your grace to know,
By all the duties that I owe to Rome,
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,
Is in opinion, and in honour, wrong'd;
That, in the rescue of Lavinia,

With his own hand did slay his youngest son,
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath
To be controll'd in that he frankly gave:
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine;
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds,
A father, and a friend, to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds;
'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me:
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,
How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine!

Tam. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak indifferently for all;
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
Sat. What! madam! be dishonour'd openly.
And basely put it up without revenge?

Tam. Not so, my lord: the gods of Rome forefend
I should be author to dishonour you!
But, on mine honour, dare I undertake
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all,
Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs:
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.-
My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last,
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents;
You are but newly planted in your throne:
Lest then the people, and patricians too,
Upon a just survey, take Titus' part,
And so supplant us for ingratitude,
(Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,)
Yield at entreats, and then let me alone;
I'll find a day to massacre them all,
And raze their faction, and their family,
The cruel father, and his traitorous sons,
To whom I sued for my dear son's life;
And make them know what 'tis to let a

Aside.

Come, come, sweet emperor,-come, Andronicus, Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.

:

Sut. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd. Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord : These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. Tam. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have recoucil'd your friends and you,For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable.And fear not, lords,-and you, Lavinia;— By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty.

Luc. We do: and vow to heaven, and to his highness,

That what we did was mildly, as we might,
Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own.
Mar. That on mine honour here I do protest.
Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.-
Tam. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be

friends:

The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back.
Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here,
And at my lovely Tamora's entreats,

I do remit these young men's heinous faults.
Stand up.

Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,

I found a friend: and sure as death I swore,
I would not part a bachelor from the priest.
Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides,
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends:
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.

Tit. 'T'o-morrow, an it please your majesty,
To hunt the panther and the hart with me,
With horn and hound, we'll give your grace bon-jour
Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The same.
Before the Palace.
Enter AARON.

Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top.
Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft,
Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash;
Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the Zodiack in his glistering coach,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
So Tamora.-

Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts,
To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
And mount her pitch; whom thou in triumph long
Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains;
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes,
han is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds, and idle thoughts!
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold,
To wait upon this new-made empress.
To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen,
This goddess, this Semiramis;-this queen,
This syren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine,
And see his shipwreck, and his commonweal's.
Holla! what storm is this?

Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS, braving.
Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge,
And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd;
And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be.

Chi. Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all;
And so in this to bear me down with braves.
'Tis not the difference of a year, or two,
Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate;
I am as able, and as fit, as thou,

To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace;
And that my sword upon thee shall approve,
And plead my passions for Lavinia's love.

Aar. Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the

peace.

Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side,

Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?
Go to: have your lath glued within your sheath,
Till you know better how to handle it.

Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw.
Aar.
Why, how now, lords?
So near the emperor's palace dare you draw,
And maintain such a quarrel openly?

Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge;

I would not, for a million of gold,

The case were known to them it most concerns:
Nor would your noble mother, for much more,
Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome.
For shame, put up.

Dem.

Not I; till I have sheath'd My rapier in his bosom, and, withal, Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat, That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here.

Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd,Foul-spoken coward! that thunder'st with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform.

Aar. Away, I say.

Now by the gods, that warlike Goths adore,
This petty brabble will undo us all.-
Why, lords,-and think you not how dangerous
It is to jut upon a prince's right?
What, is Lavinia then become so loose,
Or Bassianus so degenerate,

That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd,
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware! and should the empress know
This discord's ground, the music would not please.
Chi, I care not, I, knew she and all the world: