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Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
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 bell, Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.
Luc. Proud Saturninus, 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,
Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,
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,
[A long flourish.
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, Mive 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
Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Sat. Thanks, 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 inaid 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 : This 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
(Exeunt Marcus and Bassianus, with
[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!
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine:
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, Not 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 said'st, I begg’d the empire at thy hand. Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are
these? Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that changing
Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
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 applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods,
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
(Exeunt Saturninus, and his Followers ; Ta
mora, und 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
Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,
Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Tit. Trailors, away! he rests not in this tomb.