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Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let 's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd.

[Exeunt Titus’ Sons with ALARBUS. Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! CHI. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?

DEMET. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threat’ning 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.

Enter the Sons of ANDRONICUS again.
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.
[Flourish. Sound trumpets, and they lay the coffin

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

LAV. In peace and honour live lord Titus long;
My poble 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 hast 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.


and others,

Marc. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome !

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

Marc. 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


all ? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my co try's strength successfully, 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.

MARC. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell ?
Tit. Patience, prince Saturninus.

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.

Bass. 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 ?

TRIBUNES. 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 commonweal :
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and say, “Long live our emperor !”

MARC. With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians, and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor ;
And say, “Long live our emperor, Saturpine !"

[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 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 commonweal,
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 ensigps 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 :


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. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go : Ransomless here we set our prisoners free.

Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
Bass. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.

[Seizing LAVINIA. Tit. How, sir ? are you in earnest then, my lord ?

Bass. Ay, noble Titus, and resolv'd withal To do myself this reason and this right.

Marc. 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?

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 ? Mut. Help, Lucius, help!

[Titus kills him.
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,
That is another's lawful promis'd love.

[Exit. Enter aloft the EMPEROR, with Tamora, and her two Sons,

and AARON the Moor.
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 none in Rome to make a stale but Saturvine ?

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