Cap.
Romans, make way; The good Andronicus,
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is return'd,
From where ^note he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoak, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of Trumpets, &c. Enter certain of the Troops of Titus, marching slowly; then Mutius, and Martius, abreast; after them, Persons bearing a Coffin, cover'd with black; then Quintus, and Lucius; and then Titus Andronicus; Officers behind: After them, Tamora, with Alarbus, Chiron, and Demetrius, her Sons, Aaron, and other Goths, Prisoners; Soldiers, and People, following. Bearers set down the Coffin, and Titus advances.

Tit.
Hail, Rome,14Q1178 victorious in thy mourning ^note weeds!
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharg'd her fraught ^note,
Returns with precious lading to the bay,
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To resalute 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 sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead:
These, that survive, let Rome reward with love;
These, that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my sword.
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unbury'd yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?—
Make way to lay them by their bretheren.— [Tomb open'd.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
O sacred receptacle of my joys,

Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more?

Luc.
Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths;
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes ^note fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly ^note prison 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 noblest that survives,
The eldest son of this distressed queen. [giving them Alarbus.

Tam.
Stay, Roman brethren;—Gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the ^note tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O think my son ^note 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 yoak;
But must my sons be slaughter'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 these.
Andronicus, stain 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, spare my first-born son.

Tit.
Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are their brethren, ^note whom you Goths beheld ^note
Alive, and dead; and, for their brethren slain,

Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd; and dye he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.

Luc.
Away with him! and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs, 'till they be clean consum'd. [Exeunt Sons with Alarbus.

Tam.
O cruel irreligious piety!

Chi.
Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?

Dem.
Oppose not Scythia ^note14Q1179 to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to ^note rest; and we survive,
To tremble under Titus' threatning look: ^note
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, ^note
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen)
To quit the bloody ^note wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter Sons, with their Swords bloody.

Luc.
See, lord and father, how we have perform'd
Our Roman rites: ^note Alarbus' limbs are lopt,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to interr our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.

Tit.
Let it be so; and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewel to their souls. [Solemn and warlike Musick. Coffin lay'd into the Tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, ^note

Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here no storms, ^note
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! Enter Lavinia, attended.

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, for my brethren's obsequies;
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,
Whose fortunes ^note Rome's best citizens applaud.

Tit.
Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd ^note
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!—
Lavinia, live; out-live thy father's days,
In fame's ^note eternal date for virtue's praise! Enter, from the Capitol, Marcus Andronicus, Saturninus, Bassianus, and Others.

Mar.
Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triúumpher in the eyes of Rome!

Tit.
Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.

Mar.
And welcome, nephews, from successful wars,
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame!
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, ^note
That in your country's service drew your swords:
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp;
That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness,
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.—
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,

Send thee by me, their tribune, and their trust,
This † palliament of white and spotless hue;
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late-deceased emperor's sons:
Be candidatus then, and put it on,
And help to set a head on headless Rome.

Tit.
A better head her glorious body fits,
Than his, that shakes for age and feebleness:
What should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chose ^note with proclamations to-day;
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad ^note new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And let my country's strength successfully;
And bury'd one and twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country:
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a scepter to controul the world;
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.

Mar.
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask ^note the empery.14Q1180

Sat.
Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?

Tit.
Patience, prince Saturnine ^note.

Sat.
Romans, do me right;—
Patricians, draw your swords; and sheath them not,
'Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor:—
Andronicus, 'would thou wert shipt to hell,
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.

Luc.
Proud Saturnine! interrupter of the good
That noble-minded Titus means to thee!

Tit.
Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee
The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.

Bas.
Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do 'till I dye:
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, ^note
I will most thankful be; and thanks, to men
Of noble minds, is honourable meed.

Tit.
People of Rome, and people's tribunes ^note here,
I ask your voices and your suffrages;
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?

Tri.
To gratify ^note the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Tit.
Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I ^note make,
That you create your emperor's eldest son,
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,
Reflect on Rome, as Titan's rays on earth,
And ripen justice in this common-weal:
Then, if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him; and say, Long-live our emperor!

Mar.
With voices and applause of every sort,
Patricians, and plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor,
And say, Long live our emperor Saturnine! [Flourish; and Shouts of, Long live, &c.

Sat.
Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done
To us in our election this day,
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my emperess,
Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pántheon ^note 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 sight of Rome, to Saturnine,—
King and commander of our common-weal,
The wide world's emperor,—do I consecrate
My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners;
Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord:
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour's ensigns humbl'd at thy feet ^note.

Sat.
Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome shall record; and, when I do forget
The least of these unspeakable deserts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit.
Now, madam, are you prisoner ^note to an emperor; [to Tamora.
To him that, for your honour ^note and your state,
Will use you nobly, and your followers.

&clquo;Sat.
&clquo;A goodly ^note lady, trust me; of the hue&crquo;
&clquo;That I would choose, were I to choose anew.&crquo;—
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance;
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
Thou com'st 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, he comforts you,
Can make you ^note greater than the queen of Goths.—
Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this?

Lav.
Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.

Sat.
Thanks, sweet Lavinia.—Romans, let us go:

Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. [Flourish. Saturninus addresses Tamora.

Bas.
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [seizing Lavinia.

Tit.
How, sir! Are you in earnest then, my lord?

Bas.
Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal,
To do myself this reason and this right.

Mar.
Suum cuique, ^note is our Roman justice:
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.

Luc.
And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.

Tit.
Traitors, avaunt!—Where is the emperor's guard;—
Treason, my lord; Lavinia is surpriz'd.

Sat.
Surpriz'd! By whom?

Bas.
By him that justly may
Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. [Exit, bearing off Lavinia; Marcus, and Titus' Sons, guarding them; Mutius last.

Mut.
Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.

Tit.
Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back.

Mut.
My lord, you pass not here.

Tit.
What, villain boy! [assailing him.
Bar'st me my way in Rome?

Mut.
Help, Lucius, help! [falls, and dies. Re-enter Lucius.

Luc.
My lord, you are unjust; and, more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.

Tit.
Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine;
My sons would never so dishonour me:
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.

Luc.
Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,

That is another's lawful promis'd love. [Exit.

Sat.
No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traiterous haughty sons,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was there none else in ^note Rome to make a stale of,
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds, with that proud brag of thine,
That said'st, I beg'd the empire at thy hands.

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 sons,
To ruffle in the common-wealth of Rome.

Tit.
These words are razors to my wounded heart.

Sat.
And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths,—
That, like the stately Phæbe ^note 'mongst her nymphs,
Dost over-shine the gallant'st dames of Rome,—
If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee emperess ^note of Rome.
Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,—
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn so bright, and everything
In readiness for Hymenæus stands ^note,—
I will not resalute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, 'till from forth this place
I lead espous'd my bride along with me.

Tam.
And here, in sight of heaven to Rome I swear,

If Saturnine 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 ^note:—Lords, accompany
Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride;
Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine,
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered:
There shall we cónsummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt Saturninus, and Followers, with Tamora, her Sons, Aaron, Goths, &c.

Tit.
I am not bid to wait upon this bride:—
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius.

Mar.
O Titus, see, o, see what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

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

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

Tit.
Traitors, away; he rests not in this tomb.
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edify'd:
Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors,
Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:
Bury him where you can, he comes not here.

Mar.
My lord, this is impiety in you:
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him;
He must be bury'd with his bretheren.

Qui. Mar^t.
And shall, or him we will accompany.

Tit.
And shall! What villain was it, spake that word?

Mar^t.
He that would vouch 't14Q1181 in ^note 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, even thou hast strook upon my crest,
And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded:
My foes I do repute you every one;
So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

Qui.
He is not with ^note himself, let us withdraw.

Mar^t.
Not I, 'till ^note Mutius' bones be buried. [Marcus and Titus' Sons kneel to him.

Mar.
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—

Mar^t.
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,—

Luc.
Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—

Mar.
Suffer thy brother Marcus to interr
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
That dy'd in honour and Lavinia's cause.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax
That slew himself; and wise ^note Laertes' son
Did graciously plead for his funerals:
Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be bar'd his entrance here.

Tit.
Rise, Marcus, rise:—
The dismal'st day is this, that e'er I saw,
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome!—
Well, bury him, and bury me the next. [Mutius put into the Tomb.

Luc.
There lye thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,
'Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!—
No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
He lives in fame, that dy'd in virtue's cause.

all.
No man, &c. [Tomb clos'd.

Mar.
My lord,—to step out of these dreary dumps ^note,—
How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome?

Tit.
I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is;
Whether by device, or no, the heavens can tell:
Is she not then beholding to the man,
That brought her for this high good turn so far?
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. ^note Flourish. Enter, on one Side, Saturninus, and his Train, with Tamora, Goths, &c. on the other, Bassianus, and his, with Lavinia.

Sat.
So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize;
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.

Bas.
And you of yours, my lord: I say no more,
Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.

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

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

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

Bas.
My lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Answer I must, and shall do with my life.
Only thus much I give your grace to know:

By all the duties that 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 slay his youngest son,
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath
To be controul'd in that he frankly gave:
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine,
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds,
A father, and a friend, to thee, and Rome.

Tit.
Prince Bassianus, 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,
Then hear me speak indifferently for all,
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.

Sat.
What, madam! be dishonour'd openly,
And basely put it up without revenge?

Tam.
Not so, my lord; The gods of Rome foresend,
I should be author to dishonour you!
But on mine honour dare I undertake
For good lord Titus' innocence in all,
Whose fury, not dissembl'd, speaks his griefs:
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.
&clquo;My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last,&crquo;
&clquo;Dissemble all your griefs, and discontents:&crquo;
&clquo;You are but newly planted in your throne;&crquo;
&clquo;Lest then the people, and patricians too,&crquo;

&clquo;Upon a just survey, take Titus' part,&crquo;
&clquo;And so supplant us for ingratitude ^note,&crquo;
&clquo;(Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin)&crquo;
&clquo;Yield at intreats, and then let me alone:&crquo;
&clquo;I'll find a day to massacre them all,&crquo;
&clquo;And rase their faction, and their family,&crquo;
&clquo;The cruel father, and his trait'rous sons,&crquo;
&clquo;To whom I sued for my dear son's life;&crquo;
&clquo;And make them know, what 'tis to let a queen&crquo;
&clquo;Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in vain.&crquo;
Come, come, sweet emperor,—come, Andronicus,—
Take up this good old man, and chear the heart
That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.

Sat.
Rise, Titus, † rise; my empress hath prevail'd.

Tit.
I thank your majesty, and her, my lord:
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.

Tam.
Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,
A Roman now adopted happily,
And must advise the emperor for his good.
This day all quarrels dye, Andronicus;—
And let it be mine honour, good my lord,
That I have reconcil'd your friends and you.—
For you, prince Bassianus, I have pass'd
My word and promise to the emperor,
That you will be more mild and tractable.—
And fear not, lords,—and you, Lavinia;—
By my advise, all-humbl'd on your knees,
You shall ask pardon of his majesty.

Luc.
We do ^note; and vow to heaven, and to his highness,
That, what we did, was mildly, as we might,
Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own.

Mar.
That on mine honour here I do protest.

Sat.
Away, and talk not; trouble us no more.

Tam.
Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends:
The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace;
I will not be deny'd, sweet heart, look back.

Sat.
Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here,
And at my lovely Tamora's intreats,
I do remit these young men's heinous faults:
Stand † up.—
Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
I found a friend; and sure as death I swore, ^note
I would not part a batchelor from the priest.
Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides,
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends:—
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.

Tit.
To-morrow an it please your majesty
To hunt the panther and the hart ^note with me,
With hound and horn we'll give your grace bonjour.

Sat.
Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Flourish. Exeunt.

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