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SCENE V.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lavinia with bafon..

Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look thy foes are bound; Sirs, top their mouths, let them not speak to me, But let them hear what fearful words I utter.

Oh, villains, Chiron, and Demetrius !

Here ftands the fpring whom you have stain❜d with mud,
This goodly fummer with your winter mix'd:
You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death;
My hand cut off, and made a merry jeft:

grace.

Both her fweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her fpotlefs chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay, if I fhould let you speak?
Villains!- -for shame you could not beg for
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you.
This one hand yet-is left to cut your throats,
Whilft that Lavinia 'twixt her ftumps doth hold
The bason that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me,
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, villains, I will grind your bones to dust,
And with your blood and it I'll make a pafte;
And of the paste a coffin will I rear,

And make two pafties of your fhameful heads ;
And bid that ftrumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
Like to the earth, fwallow her own increase.
This is the feaft that I have bid her to,
And this is the banquet fhe shall surfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
And worse than Procne I will be reveng❜d.
And now prepare your throats: Lavinia, come,
Receive the blood; and when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that pafte let their vile heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious

To make this banquet, which I wish might prove

More

More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast.

[He cuts their threat

So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook,
And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. [Exeunt.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with Aaron prisoner.

Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince it is my father's mind
That I repair to Rome, I am content.

Goth. And ours with thine, befal what fortune will.
Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous tyger, this accursed devil;
Let him receive no fuftenance, fetter him,
Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror's face,
For teftimony of these foul proceedings:
And fee the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear the Emperor means no good to us.

Aar. Some devil whisper curses in my ear,
And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
Luc. Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd slave.

[Exeunt Goths with Aaron. Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Flouris. The trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.

SCENE VI.

Sound trumpets. Enter Emperor and Emprefs, with Tribunes, and others.

Sat. What, hath the firmament more funs than one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thyfelf a fun?

Mar. Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break the parley;. Thefe quarrels must be quietly debated:

The feaft is ready, which the careful Titus

Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,

For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome :
Pleafe you therefore draw nigh, and take your places.
Sat. Marcus, we will.
[Hautboys.
A table brought in. Enter Titus like a cook, placing the
meat on the table, and Lavinia with a veil over her face.
Tit. Welcome, my gracious Lord; welcome, dread
Queen;

Welcome,

Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius;
And welcome all: although the cheer be poor,
'Till fill you ftomachs, please you eat of it.

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus ? Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well, To entertain your Highnefs, and your Emprefs. Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. Tit. And if your Highness knew my heart, you were. My Lord the Emperor, refolve me this:

Was it well done of rafh Virginius,

To flay his daughter with his own right hand,
Because she was inforc'd, ftain'd, and deflower'd?
Sat. It was, Andronicus.

Tit. Your reafon, mighty Lord?

Sat. Because the girl fhould not furvive her shame,
And by her prefence ftill renew his forrows.
Tit. A reafon mighty, ftrong, and effectual,
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant,
For me, moft wretched, to perform the like.
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee,
And with thy fhame thy father's forrow die!

[He kills her
Sat. What haft thou done, unnatural and unkind?
Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me
I am as woful as Virginius was,

And have a thousand times more cause than he

To do this outrage. And it is now done.

[blind.

Sat. What, was fhe ravifh'd; tell, who did the deed? Tit. Will't please you eat, will't please your Highness

feed?

Tam. Why haft thou flain thine only daughter thus ?
Tit. Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.

They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue;
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.
Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently.

Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pye,.
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed;
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true; witnefs my

knife's sharp point.
[He ftabs the Empress.

Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accurfed deed.

[He ftabs Titus.

Luc

Luc. Can the fon's eye behold his father bleed?
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.
[Lucius ftabs the Emperor.
Mar. You fad-fac'd men, people and fons of Rome,
By uproar fever'd, like a flight of fowl
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gufts,
Oh, let me teach you how to knit again
This fcatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
Thefe broken limbs again into one body.

Goth. Let Rome herfelf be bane unto herself;
And the whom mighty kingdoms curtfey to,
Like a forlorn and defperate caft-away,
Do fhameful execution on herself.

Mar. But if my frofty figns and chaps of age,
Grave witneffes of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,

Speak, Rome's dear friend; as erst our ancestor,

[To Lucius
When with his folemn tongue he did discourse
To love-fick Dido's fad attending ear,
The ftory of that baleful burning night,

When fubtle Greeks furpris'd King Priam's Troy
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,

But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utterance; even in the time
When it fhould move you to attend me moft,
Lending your kind commiferation.

Here is a captain, let him tell the tale.

Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak:
Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,
That curfed Chiron and Demetrius

Were they that murdered our Emperor's brother,
And they it were that ravished our sister :
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father's tears defpis'd, and bafely cozen'd
Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel out,
And fent her enemies into the grave.

Laftly, myself unkindly banished,

The

The gates fhut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies;
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears,
And op'd their arms t' embrace me as a friend;
And I am turn'd forth, be it known unto you,
That have preferv'd her welfare in my blood,
And from her bofom took the enemies point,
Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body.
Alas you know, I am no vaunter, I;
My fears can witnefs, dumb although they are,
That my report is just, and full of truth.
But foft, methinks I do digrefs too much,
Citing my worthlefs praife: oh, pardon me;
For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Mar. Now is my tongue to speak. Behold this child,
Of this was Tamora delivered,

The iffue of an irreligious Moor,

Chief architect and plotter of these woes.
The villain is alive in Titus' house,

Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true.

Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge
Thefe wrongs unfpeakable, paft patience,
Or more than any living man could bear.

Now you have heard the truth, what fay you, Romans?
Have we done aught amifs? fhew us wherein;
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,

We'll hand in hand all headlong cast us down,
And on the ragged ftones beat out our brains,
And make a mutual clofure of our houfe.
Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall,
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Emil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand,

Lucius our Emperor: for well I know

The common voice doth cry, it shall be so.

Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rome's Royal Emperor!
Go, go into old Titus' forrowful house,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd fome direful flaughtering death,
As punishment for his moft wicked life.
Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious Governor!

Lue}

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