A valiant fon-in-law thou fhalt 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 Phebe 'mong her Nymphs,
Doft over-fhine the gallant'ft Dames of Rome;
If thou be pleas'd with this my fudden choice,
Behold, I chufe thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee Emprefs of Rome.

Speak, Queen of Goths, doft thou applaud my choice?
And here I fwear by all the Roman Gods,
(Sith prieft and holy water are fo near,
And tapers burn fo bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymeneus ftands,)

I will not re-falute the streets of Rome,

Or climb my Palace, 'till from forth this place

I lead efpous'd my bride along with me.

Tam. And here in fight of heav'n to Rome I fwear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his defires,

A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.

Sat. Afcend, fair Queen, Pantheon; Lords, accompany

Your noble Emperor, and his lovely bride,

Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,
Whofe wifdom hath her fortune conquered,
There fhall we confummate our fpoufal rites. [Exeunt,

SCENE V..

Maret Titus Andronicus.

Pit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride.' --Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

Enter

Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and Marcus.

Mar. Oh, Titus, fee, oh, fee, what thou haft done! In a bad quarrel flain a virtuous fon.

Tit. No, foolish Tribune, no. No fon of mine,
Nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed,
That hath dishonour'd all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy fons.

Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes;
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.

Tit. Traitors, away! he refts not in this tomb;
This Monument five hundred years hath ftood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified;

Here none but foldiers, and Rome's Servitors,
Repofe in fame: none bafely flain in brawls.
Bury him where you can, he comès not here.
Mar. My Lord, this is impiety in
you;
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him:
He must be buried with his brethren.

[Titus's fons fpeak. Sons. And fhall, or him we will accompany. Tit. And shall? what villain was it spoke that word? [Titus's fon fpeaks.

Quin. He, that would vouch't in any place but here. Tit. What, would you bury him in my defpight? Mar. No, noble Titus; but intreat of thee

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, evʼn thou hast struck upon my Creft, And with these boys mine honour thou haft wounded. My foes I do repute you every one,

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
Luc. He is not himself, let us withdraw.
Quin. Not I, 'till Mutius' bones be buried.

[The brother and the fons kneel. Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead. Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature speak.

U 2

Tit.

Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the reft will speed. Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my foul,— Luc. Dear father, foul and fubftance of us all,— Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble Nephew here in virtue's neft, That died in honour, and Lavinia's caufe. Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax, That flew himself, and wife Laertes' fon Did graciously plead for his funerals. Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy, Be barr'd his entrance here.

Tit. Rife, Marcus, rise.

The difmall'ft day is this, that e'er I saw,
To be dishonour'd by my fons in Rome.
Well; bury him, and bury me the next.

[They put him in the tomb. Luc. There lie thy bones, fweet Mutius, with thy

friends,

'Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!

[They all kneel, and say; -No man fhed tears for noble Mutius;

He lives in fame, that died in virtue's caufe.

Mar. My Lord, to kep out of thefe dreary dumps,
How comes it, that the fubtle Queen of Goths
Is of a fudden thus advanc'd in Rome?

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is;
If by device or no, the heav'ns can tell.
Is fhe not then beholden to the man,

That brought her for this high good Turn fo far?
Yes; and will nobly him remunerate.

SCENE

Flourish.

Re-enter the Emperor, Tamora, Chiron, and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moor, at one door. At the other door, Baffianus and Lavinia with others.

Sat. So, Baffianus, you have plaid your prize; God give you joy, Sir, of your gallant bride. Baf. And you of yours, my Lord; I fay no more, Nor wifh no lefs, and so I take my leave.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power, Thou and thy faction fhall repent this Rape.

Bal. Rape call you it, my Lord, to feize my own, My true-betrothed love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Mean while I am poffeft of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, Sir; you are very short with us, But, if we live, we'll be as fharp with you.

Baf. My Lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Anfwer I muft, and fhall do with my life;
Only thus much I give your Grace to know,
By all the duties which I owe to Rome,
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd;
That in the rescue of Lavinia,

With his own hand did flay his youngest fon,
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath
To be controul'd in that he frankly gave;
Receive him then to favour, Saturnire;
That hath expreft himself in all his deeds,
A father and a friend to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince Baffianus, leave to plead my deeds,
'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonour'd me;
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,
How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine.
Tam. My worthy Lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,

U 3

Then

Then hear me fpeak, indifferently, for all;
And at my fuit, Sweet, pardon what is past.
Sat. What, Madam! be difhonour'd openly,
And bafely put it up without revenge?

Tam. Not fo, my Lord; the Gods of Rome forefend,

I fhould be author to dishonour you!

But, on mine honour dare I undertake
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all;
Whofe fury, not diffembled, fpeaks his griefs:
Then, at my fuit, look graciously on him,
Lose not fo noble a frriend on vain Suppose,
Nor with four looks afflict his gentle heart.
My Lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last,
Diffemble all your griefs and difcontents:
You are but newly planted in your Throne;
Left then the People and Patricians too,
Upon a juft furvey, take Titus' part;
And fo fupplant us for ingratitude,
Which Rome reputes to be a heinous fin,
Yield at intreats, and then let me alone;
I'll find a day to maffacre them all,
And raze their faction, and their family,
The cruel father, and his traiterous fons,
To whom I fued for my dear fon's life,
And make them know, what 'tis to let a
Queen

1

Kneel in the ftreets, and beg for grace in

vain.

[Afide

Come, come, fweet Emperor,-come, AndronicusTake up this good old man, and chear the heart, That dies in tempeft of thy angry frown.

Sat. Rife, Titus, rife; my Emprefs hath prevail'd, Tit. I thank your Majefty, and her. My Lord, Thefe words, thefe looks infufe new life in me. Tam. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,

A Roman now adopted happily:

And must advife the Emperor for his good.

This