That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
BASS. Romans,-friends, followers, favourers of
my right,-

If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,

Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep, then, this passage to the Capitol;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;

And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the

crown.

MARC. Princes,-that strive by factions and by friends

Ambitiously for rule and empery,

Know that the people of Rome, for whom we

stand

A special party, have, by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius

For many good and great deserts to Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls.
He by the senate is accited home,
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat,-by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,—
That
you withdraw you, and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.

SAT. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
thoughts!

BASS. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affyd

In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,

And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends;
And to my fortunes and the people's favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

[Exeunt the Followers of BASSIANUS. SAT. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,

I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.

[Exeunt the Followers of SATURNINUS.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates and let me in.

e

BASS. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. [Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANTS go up into the Capitol.

&c.

&c.

(*) First folio, whence.

e Open the gates-] Capell prints-"Open the gates, tribunes," Mr. Collier's annotator suggests,-" Open the brazen gates,"

f his fraught,-] "His" is here used for the impersona pronoun, its.

ACT I.]

Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!-
Romans, of five-and-twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead!
These that survive, let Rome reward with love;
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:

Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.

Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.—3
[They open the tomb.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
O, sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!

straight;

a fire

Rome.

*

Goths,

That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum, sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth."

TIT. I give him you,-the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen.

TAM. Stay, Roman brethren!-Gracious con-
queror,

Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my sons to be as dear to me!
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautify thy triumphs and return,
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these!
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them, then, in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.

TIT. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld

Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody.

Luc. See, lord and father, how perform'd

we have

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 of 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:
and honour rest you here, my sons!
peace

In