« ZurückWeiter »
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
Sat. Romans, do me Right.
Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the Good
Tit. Content thee, Prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.
Baf. Andronicus, I do not fatter thee,
Tit. People of Rome, and noble Tribunes here,
bestow them friendly on Andronicus ?
Tit. Tribunes, I thank you, and this suit I make,
Mar. With voices and applause of every fort,
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor ;
[A long flourish, till they come down.
Tit. It doth, my worthy lord ; and, in this match,
Tit. Now, Madam, are you prisoner to an Emperor ;
[To Tamora. That I would chuse, were I to chuse anew : 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 scorn in Rome : Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest 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 displeas'd with this?
Lav. Not I, my lord ; fith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesie.
Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia ; Romans, let us go. Ransomless here we set our prisoners 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 resolv'd withal,
[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb feu. Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman juftice: This Prince in justice seizeth but his own.
Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
Tit. Traitors, avant ! where is the Emperor's Guard? Treason, my lord; Lavinia is surpriz'd.
Set. Surpriz'd! by whom?
Baf. By him, that juftly may
[Exit Baflianus with Lavinia. Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I'll keep this door secure.
Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. Mut. My lord, you pass not here.
Tit. What! villain-boy, Barr'it me my way in Rome ?
[He kills him. Mut. Help, Lucius, help!
Luc. My lord, you are unjust, and more than fo ;
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine:
Luc. Dead, if you will, but not to be his wife,
Sat. No, Titus, no, the Emperor needs her not ;
Was there none else in Rome to make a Stale of,
Tit. O monstrous ! what reproachful words are these ;
Sat. But go thy ways: go give that changing piece, To him that flourish'd for her with his sword; A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy : One fit to bandy with thy lawless fons, To ruffle in the Commonwealth of Rome.
Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths, That, like the stately Pbæbe 'mong her Nymphs, Doft over-fhine the gallant'ft Dames of Rome ; If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice, Behold, I chose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee Emperess of Rome. Speak, Queen of Goths, doft thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman ods, (Sith priest and holy water are so near, And tapers burn so bright, and every thing In readiness for Hymeneus ftands,) I will not re-falute the itreets of Rome, Or climb my Palace, 'till from forth this place I lead espous'd my bride along with me.
Tam. And here in fight of heav'n to Rome I swear, If Saturnire advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
Sat. Ascend, fair Queen, Pantheon ; lords, accompany
Manet Titus Andronicus.
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and
Mar. Oh, Titus, fee, oh, fee, what thou haft done! In a bad quarrel sain a virtuous fon.
Tit. No, foolish Tribune, no: no son of mine,
Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes ;
Tit. Traitors, away! he refts not in this tomb;
Mar. My lord, this is impiety in you;
[Titus's fons speak. Sons. And fhall, or him we will accompany. Tit. And shall ? what villain was it fpake that word?
[Titus's fon speaks. Quin. He, that would vouch't in any place but here. Tit. What, would you bury him in my despight? Mar. No, noble Titus; but intreat of thee To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
Tit. Marcus, ev’n thou haft ftruck upon my Crest,
Luc. He is not himself, let us withdraw.
[The brother and the fons kneel. Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead. Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature speak. Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,