In peace and honour reft you here, my sons, SCENE III. Enter Lavinia. In peace and honour reft you here, my fons! Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! Tit. Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus. 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 this funeral pomp, 3 AND fame's eternal date for virtue's praife!] This abfurd with is made fenfe of by changing and into IN. WARB. To live in fame's date is, if an allowable, yet a harsh expreffion. To outlive an eternal date is, tho? not philofophical, yet poetical fenfe. He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praife longer than fame, That That hath afpir'd to Solon's happiness; And help to fet a head on headless Rome. Mar. Titus, thou fhalt obtain and afk the Empery, Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canft thou tell? Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus. Sat. Romans, do me Right. Patricians, draw your fwords, and fheath them not Andronicus, 'would thou were fhipt to hell, Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the Good Tit. Content thee, Prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themfelves. Baf. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, 4 But But honour thee, and will do till I die; Tit. People of Rome, and noble Tribunes here, Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Ti. Tribunes, I thank you, and this fuit I make, That you create your Emperor's eldeit fon, Lord Saturnine; whofe virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome, as Titan's rays on earth, And ripen juftice in this Common-weal. Then if you will elect by my advice, Crown him, and fay,-Long live our Emperor! Mar. With voices and applause of every sort, Fan.cians and Plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor; And fav,-Long live our Emperor Saturnine! [Alang 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 deferts, Rome's royal Mistress, Miftrefs of my heart, And in the facred Pantbeen 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 fight of Rome, to Saturninus, Pre Prefents well worthy Rome's Imperial Lord. Tit. Now, Madam, are you prifoner to an Emperor [To Tamora. To him, that for your honour and your state Will ufe you nobly, and your followers. Sat. A goodly lady, truft me, of the hue That I would chufe, were I to chufe 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 fhall be thy ufage every way. Reft 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 difpleas'd with this? Lav. Not I, my Lord; fith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy. Sat. Thanks, fweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go. Ranfomless here we fet our prifoners 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 refolv'd withal, To do myself this Reafon and this Right. [The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb fhew. Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice: This Prince in juftice feizeth but his own. Luc. And that he will, and fhall, if Lucius live. Tit. Traitors, avant! Where is the Emperor's Guard? Treafon, my Lord; Lavinia is furpriz'd. Sat. Sat. Surpriz'd! by whom? Baf. By him, that justly may Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. [Exit Baflianus with Lavinia. SCENE IV. Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my fword I'll keep this door fecure. Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll foon bring her back. Mut. My Lord, you pass not here Tit. What! villain-boy, Barr'ft me my way in Rome? Mut. Help, Lucius, help! [Titus kills Mutius. Luc. My Lord, you are unjuft, and more than fo; In wrongful quarrel you have flain your fon. Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any fons 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, Agree thofe deeds with that proud brag of thine, 6 Tit. O monftrous! what reproachful words are these? Sat. But go thy ways. Go give that changing piece, To him that flourish'd for her with his fword; -changing piece,] Spoken of Lavinia. Piece was then, as VOL. VI. it is now, ufed perfonally as a word of contempt. U A |