Sirs, ftop 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 Spring whom you have ftain'd with Mud,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
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,
Both her fweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more dear
Than Hands or Tongue, her spotless Chastity,
Inhuman Traitors, you conftrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains! for fhame you could not beg for Grace.
Hark, Wretches, how I mean to Martyr you.
This one Hand yet is left to cut your Throats,
Whilft that Lavinia 'twixt her Stumps doth hold
The Bafon that receives your guilty Blood.
You know your Mother means to feaft with me,
And calls her felf Revenge, and thinks me mad
Hark, Villains, I will grind your Bones to Duft,
And with your Blood and it, I'll make a Pafte,
And of the Pafte a Coffin will I rear,
And make two Pafties of your shameful Heads,
And bid that Strumpet, your unhallowed Dam,
Like to the Earth, fwallow her own Increase.
This is the Feaft that I have bid her to.
And this the Banquet fhe fhall furfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my Daughter,
And worse than Progne, I will be reveng❜d,
And now prepare your Throats: Lavinia, come,
[He cuts their Throats, and Lavinia receives the
Blood in a Bafon.
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 wild Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this Banquet, which I wish might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs Feaft.
So, now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook,
And fee them ready 'gainst the Mo:her comes.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner, Lue. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis 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 barbarcus Moor,
This ravenous Tiger, this accurfed Devil,
Let him receive no Suftenance, fetter him,
'Till he be brought unto the Emperor's Face,
For Teftimony of thefe foul proceedings;
And fee the Ambush of our Friends be ftrong,
I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some Devil whifper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tougue may utter forth
The venomous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc. Away, inhuman Dog, unhallow'd Slave,
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in.
The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tri
Sat. What, hith the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thy felf a San? Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, These Quarrels must be quietly Debated:
The Feaft is ready, which the careful Titus
. Hath ordained to an honourable end,
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome:
Please 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, ye Warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor,
'Twill fill your Stomachs, pleafe 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 Empress.
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,
Becaufe fhe was enforc'd, ftain'd, and deflour'd?
Sat. It was, Andronicus.
Tit. Your Reason, mighty Lord?
Sat. Because the Girl fhould not furvive her Shame,
And by her Prefence ftill renew his Sorrows.
Tit. A Reafon mighty, ftrong, and effectual,
A Pattern, Prefident and lively Warrant,
For me, moft wretched, to perform the like:
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy Shame with thee,
And with thy Shame thy Father's Sorrow die. [He kills her.
Sat. What haft thou done, unnatural and unkind?
Tit. Kill'd her for whom my Tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was,
And have a thouf.nd times more Caufe than he.
Sat. What, was the 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 the her felf hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true, witnefs my Knife's fharp Point.
[He ftabs the Empress. Sat. Die, frantick Wretch, for this accurfed Deed.
[He ftabs Titus. Luc. Can the Son's Eyes 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 Sons of Rome, By uprore fever'd, like a flight of Fowl,
Scatter'd by Winds and high tempeftuous 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 her felf be bane unto her felf,
And the whom mighty Kingdoms curtfie to
Like a forlorn and defperate Caft-away,
Do fhameful Execution on her felf.
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 erft our Ancestor, [To Lucius.
When with his folemn Tongue he did difcourfe
To Love-fick Dido's fad attending Ear,
The Story of that baleful burning Night,
When fubtile Greeks furpriz'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 should move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind Hand, Commiferation.
Here is a Captain, let him tell the Tale,
Your Hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Luc. This 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 Sifter:
For their fell faults our Brothers were Beheaded,
Our Father's Tears defpis'd, and bafely cożen'd
Of that true Hand, that fought Rome's Quarrel out,
And fent her Enemies into the Grave.
Laftly, my felf unkindly Banifhed,
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 to embrace me as a Friend:)
And I am turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preferv'd her welfare in my Blood,
And from her Bofom took the Enemy's point,"
Sheathing the Steel in my adventrous Body.
Alas, you know I am no Vaunter, I,
My Scars can witnefs, dumb although they are,
That my Report is juft, and full of Truth:
But foft, methinks I do digrefs too much,
Citing my worthlefs Praise: Oh pardon me,
For when no Friends are by, Men praise themselves.
Mar. Now is my Tongue to fpeak: 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,
And as he is, to witnefs this is true.
Now judge what caufe had Titus to revenge
These wrongs, unspeakable, past Patience,
Or more than any living Man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what fay you Romans?
Have we done ought amifs? fhew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,
Will Hand in Hand all headlong caft us down,
And on the ragged Stones beat out our Brains,
And make a mutual clofure of our Houfe:
Speak, Romans, fpeak, and if you fay we shall,
Lo Hand in Hand, Lucius and I will fall.
Am. 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 do cry it fhall be fo.
Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rome's Royal Emperor;
Go, go into old Titus's 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.
Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans, may I Govern so,
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe.
But, gentle People, give me aim a while,
For Nature puts me to a heavy Task:
Stand all aloof; but Uncle, draw you near,
To fhed obfequious Tears upon this Trunk:
Oh take this warm Kifs on thy pale cold Lips,
Thefe forrowful drops upon thy Blood-ftain'd Face;
The laft true Duties of thy Noble Son,
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