Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? Tit. Patience, prince Saturninus. Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them not Andronicus, 'would thou wert shipp'd to hell, Luc. Proud Saturninus, interrupter of the good 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; Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices, and your suffrages ; Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? And gratulate his safe return to Rome, Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, 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 I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an em peror; [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: Rest on my word, and let not discontent 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 maid is mine. lord? [Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my 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 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 mine: My sons would never so dishonour me. Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, Was there none else in Rome to make a stale of Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine, Tit. O 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: One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart. That, like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs, Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? Sith priest and holy water are so near, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the queen of Goths, Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon:-Lords accompany Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, [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 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,- Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes; 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, |