Make this his latest farewel to their fouls.

[Then found trumpets, and lay the coffins in the tomb.

In peace and honour reft you here, my fons,
Rome's readieft champions, repose you here,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps :
Here lurks no treafon, here no envy fwells;
Here grow no damned grudges, here no ftorms,
No noife: but filence and eternal fleep:

In peace and honour reft you here, my fons!
Enter Lavinia.

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 brethrens obfequies:
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,
Whofe fortune Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, that haft thus lovingly referv'd
The cordial of mine age, to glad mine heart!
Lavinia, live; out-live thy father's days, (5)
In fame's eternal date for virtue's praise!

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 fuccefsful wars, You that furvive, and you that fleep in fame : Fair Lords, your fortunes are alike in all, (6)

That

(5) Lavinia, live; out-live thy father's days: And Fame's eternal date for Virtue's praife!] Were the text to be admitted genuine, nothing could be fo abfurd as for Titus to with his daughter might out-live the eternal date of Fame. This, as my friend Mr. Warburton merrily obferves, is like the loyal patriot in the laft reign, who wish'd, King George might reign for ever, and the Prince and Princess after bim! I have, by the change of a fingle monofyllable, restored the paffage to a fenfible and kind with.

(6) Fair Lords, your fortunes are alike in all.] This is addreffed by the tribune to all his brother's fons, as well dead as alive. But how could it be then faid, that their fortunes were all alike? The expression seems liable to an open absurdity. Perhaps, we may reconcile

ourfelves

That in your country's fervice drew your fwords.
But fafer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath infpir'd to Solon's happiness:
And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou haft ever been,
Send thee by me their tribune, and their truft,
This palliament of white and fpotless hue;
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late-deceased Emperor's fons:
Be Candidatus then, and put it on ;
And help to fet a head on headless Rome.

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits,
Than his, that shakes for age and feebleness:
What! fhould I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chofe with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, refign my life,
And fet abroach new business for you all ?
Rome, I have been thy foldier forty years,
And led my country's ftrength fuccessfully;
And buried one and twenty valiant fons,
Knighted in field, flain manfully in arms,
In right and fervice of their noble country.
Give me a ftaff of honour for mine age,
But not a fcepter to controul the world.
Upright he held it, Lords, that held it laft.

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canft thou tell?
Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus.

Sat. Romans, do me right.

Patricians, draw your fwords, and sheath them not 'Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor.

Andronicus, would thou wert shipt to hell,

Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good

ourselves to it, thus: "Some of you are returned fafe, and with "glory; you, that have not lived to return, fhare the glory of your "brethren's fortune, in having died for your country: And though you cannot partake in the joy of their triumph; yet ftill you enjoy a fafer triumph, exempt from chance and casualty."

66

That

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.
Baf. Andronicus, I'do not flatter thee,

But honour thee, and will do 'till I die:
My faction if thou ftrengthen with thy friends,
I will most thankful be; and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and noble tribunes here,
I ask your voices, and your fuffrages,
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Mar. To gratify the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his fafe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you, and this fuit I make,
That you create your Emperor's eldest fon,
Lord Saturnine; whofe 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 fay,-Long live our Emperor!
Mar. With voices and applaufe of every fort,
Patricians and Plebeians, we create

Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor;
And fay,-Long live our Emperor Saturnine!

[A long flourish, 'till they come down. Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day,

I give thee thanks in part of thy deferts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And for an onfet, Titus, to advance
Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my Emperefs,

Rome's royal miftrefs, miftrefs of my heart,
And in the facred 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 fight of Rome, to Saturninus,
King and commander of our common-weal,

The

The wide world's Emperor, do I confecrate
My fword, my chariot, and my prifoners;
Prefents well worthy Rome's imperial Lord.
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour's enfigns humbled at thy feet.
Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome hall record; and when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deferts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, madam, are you prifoner to an Emperor ; To him, that for your honour and your ftate

Will ufe you nobly, and your followers.

Sat. A goodly Lady, trust me, of the hue [To Tamora. That I would chufe, were I to chuse a-new:

Clear up, fair Queen, that cloudy countenance;

Tho' chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
Thou com'ft not to be made a fcorn in Rome:
Princely fhall be thy ufage every way.

Reft on my word, and let not discontent
Daunt all your hopes: Madam, who comforts you,
Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.
Lavinia, you are not difpleas'd with this?

Lav. Not I, my Lord; fith true nobility
Warrants thefe words in princely courtesy.

Sat. Thanks, fweet Lavinia; Romans, let us go. Ranfomlefs here we fet our prifoners free; Proclaim our honours, Lords, with trump and drum. Baf. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.

[Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, Sir? are you in earnest then, my Lord ? Baf. Ay, noble Titus; and refolv'd withal,

To do myself this reafon and this right.

[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb fhew.

Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice:

This Prince in justice seizeth but his own.

Luc. And that he will, and fhall, if Lucius live.

Tit. Traitors, avant! where is the Emperor's guard? Treafon, my Lord; Lavinia is furpriz'd,

Sat. Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf. By him, that juftly may

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exit Baffianus with Lavinia. Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away,

And with my fword I'll keep this door fecure.

Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll foon bring her back. Mut. My Lord, you pass not here.→→→

Tit. What! villain-boy,

Barr'ft me my way in Rome ?

Mut. Help, Lucius, help!

[He kills him.

Luc. My Lord, you are unjuft, and more than so; In wrongful quarrel you have flain your fon.

Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any fons of mine: My fons would never fo dishonour me.

Traitor, reftore Lavinia to the Emperor.

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

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

Was there none elfe in Rome to make a stale of,
But Saturnine? full well, Andronicus,

Agree thefe deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That faid'ft, I beg'd the empire at thy hands.

Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are these !
Sat. But go thy ways; go give that changing piece,
Tó him that flourish'd for her with his fword;
A valiant fon-in-law thou fhalt enjoy :

One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.

Tit. Thefe words are razors to my wounded heart.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths,
That, like the ftately Phabe 'mong her nymphs,
Doft over-fhine the gallant'ft dames of Rome;
If thou be pleas'd with this my fudden choice,
Behold, I chufe thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee Emperefs of Rome.

Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?

And