And fo I love and honour thee, and thine,
Thy noble brother Titus, and his fons,

And her, to whom our 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 caufe in balance to be weigh'd.
[Exeunt Soldiers.

Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in
my right,

I thank you all, and here difmifs you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my perfon, and the cause :
Rome, be as juft and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates and let me in.

Baf. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor.
[They go up into the Senate-Houfe.

SCENE II.

Enter a Captain.

Capt. Romans, make way; the good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's beft champion, Successful in the battles that he fights,

With honour and with fortune is return'd,
From where he circumfcribed with his fword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.

Sound Drums and Trumpets, and then enter MUTIUS and MARCUS and after them two men bearing a Coffin cover'd with black; then QUINTUS and LUCIUS. After them TiruS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, the Queen of Goths, ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS,

A 3

DEMETRIUS, with AARON the Moor, Prifoners;

Soldiers, and other Attendants.

Coffin, and TITUS Speaks.

They fet down the

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!

Lo, as the bark, that hath discharg'd her fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay,

From whence at firft fhe weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus bound with laurel boughs,
To re-falute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.—
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant fons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold, the poor remains, alive, and dead!
Thefe, that furvive, let Rome reward with love;
Thefe, that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial among their ancestors:

Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my fword.
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why fuffer'ft thou thy fons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful fhore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.

[They open the Tomb. There greet in filence, as the dead were wont, And fleep in peace, flain in your country's wars! O facred receptacle of my joys,.

Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many fons of mine haft thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more?
Luc. Give us the proudeft prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum facrifice his flesh,

Before

Before this earthly prifon 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 nobleft that survives, The eldest fon of this diftreffed queen.

Tam. Stay, Roman brethren,--Gracious conqueVictorious Titus, rue the tears I fhed, [ror, A mother's tears in paffion for her fon: And, if thy fons were ever dear to thee, O, think my fon 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 fons be flaughter'd in the streets, For valiant doings in their country's cause? O! if to fight for king and common weal Were piety in thine, it is in thefe ; Andronicus, ftain 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, fpare my first-born fon.

;

Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you Goths behold Alive, and dead; and for their brethren flain, Religiously they ask a facrifice;

To this your fon is mark'd; and die he must, To appeafe their groaning fhadows that are gone. Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight; And with our fwords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs, 'till they be clean confum'd. [Exeunt MUTIUS, MARCUS, QUINTUS, and LUCIUS, with ALARBUS.

Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!

:

Chi. Was ever Scythia half fo barbarous ? Dem. Oppofe not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to reft; and we furvive

To tremble under Titus' threatning look.
Then, madam, ftand refolv'd; but hope withal,
The felf-fame 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 MUTIUS, MARCUS, QUINTUS, and LUCIUS.
Luc. See,lord and father, how we have perform'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the facrificing fire,

Whofe fmoke, like incenfe, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. Tit. Let it be fo; and let Andronicus

Make this his latest farewell to their fouls.

[Then found Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tom. In peace, and honour rest you here, my fons; Rome's readieft champions, repofe you here, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treafon, here no envy fwells, Here grow go no damned grudges; here no ftorm, No noife, but filence and eternal fleep:

Enter LAVINIA.

In peace and honour reft you here, my fons! 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

I render, for my brethren's 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 my heart!— Lavinia, live; out-live thy father's days, And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praife! Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar

cus.

Mar. And welcome, nephews, from fuccefsful

wars,

You that furvive, and you that fleep in fame.
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country's fervice drew your fwords;
But fafer triumph is the funeral pomp,
That hath afpir'd to Solon's happiness,
And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed.-
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whofe friend in juftice thou haft ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribune, and their truft,
This palliament of white and spotlefs 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,
- B

And