Lucius.
Approved warriors, and my faithful friends,
I have received letters from great Rome,
Which signifie what hate they bear their Emp'ror,
And how desirous of our sight they are.
Therefore, great lords, be as your titles witness,
Imperious and impatient of your wrongs,
And wherein Rome hath done you any † ^notescathe,
Let him make treble satisfaction.

Goth.
Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,
(Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort,)
Whose high exploits and honourable deeds
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
Be bold in us, we'll follow where thou lead'st:
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day,
Led by their master to the flower'd fields,
And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora.

Omn.
And as he saith, so say we all with him.

Luc.
I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.
But who comes here led by a lusty Goth?

SCENE II. Enter a Goth leading Aaron with his child in his arms.

Goth.
Renowned Lucius, from our troops I straid
To gaze upon a ruinous monastery,
And as I earnestly did fix mine eye
Upon the wasted building, suddenly
I heard a child cry underneath a wall;
I made unto the noise, when soon I heard
The crying babe controul'd with this discourse:
Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam,
Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art,
Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look,
Villain, thou might'st have been an Emperor:
But where the bull and cow are both milk-white,
They never do beget a cole-black calf;
Peace, villain, peace, (even thus he rates the babe)
For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth,
Who when he knows thou art the Empress' babe,
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.
With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him,
Surpriz'd him suddenly, and brought him hither,
To use as you think needful of the man.

Luc.
O worthy Goth, this is th' incarnate devil
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand;
This is the pearl that pleas'd your Empress' eye,
And here's the base fruit of his burning lust.
Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither would'st thou convey
This growing image of thy fiend-like face?
Why dost not speak? what deaf? no! not a word?
A halter, soldiers hang him on this tree,
And by his side his fruit of bastardy.

Aar.
Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood.

Luc.
Too like the sire for ever being good.
First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl,
A sight to vex the father's soul withal.

Aar.
Get me a ladder, Lucius, save the child,
And bear it from me to the Emperess;
If thou do this, I'll shew thee wondrous things,
That highly may advantage thee to hear;
If thou wilt not, befall what may befall,
I'll speak no more; but vengeance rot you all.

Luc.
Say on, and if it please me which thou speak'st,
Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd.

Aar.
And if it please thee? why assure thee, Lucius,
'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak:
For I must talk of murthers, rapes, and massacres,
Acts of black night, abominable deeds,
Complots of mischief, treason, villainies,
Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd:
And this shall all be buried by my death,
Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.

Luc.
Tell on thy mind, I say thy child shall live.

Aar.
Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.

Luc.
Who should I swear by? thou believ'st no God.
That granted, how can'st thou believe an oath?

Aar.
What if I do not, as indeed I do not,
Yet for I know thou art religious,
And hast a thing within three called conscience,
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies
Which I have seen thee careful to observe:
Therefore I urge thy oath, for that I know
An idiot holds his bauble for a God,
And keeps the oath, which by that God he swears,
To that I'll urge him;—therefore thou shalt vow

By that same God, what God soe'er it be
That thou ador'st and hast in reverence,
To save my boy, nourish and bring him up,
Or else I will discover nought to thee.

Luc.
Even by my God I swear to thee, I will.

Aar.
First know thou, I begot him on the Empress.

Luc.
O most insatiate luxurious woman!

Aar.
Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity,
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon.
'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus,
They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her,
And cut her hands, and trimm'd her as thou saw'st.

Luc.
Oh detestable villain! call'st thou that trimming?

Aar.
Why she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd;
And 'twas trim sport for them that had the doing of't.

Luc.
Oh barb'rous beastly villains like thy self!

Aar.
Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them:
That codding spirit had they from their mother,
As sure a card, as ever won the set;
That bloody mind I think they learn'd of me,
As true a dog as ever sought at head;
Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth.
I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole,
Where the dead corps of Bassianus lay:
I wrote the letter that thy father found,
And hid the gold within the letter mention'd,
Confed'rate with the Queen and her two sons.
And what not done that thou hast cause to rue,
Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in't?
I plaid the cheater for thy father's hand,
And when I had it, drew my self apart,
And almost broke my heart with extream laughter.
I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall,

When for his hand he had his two sons heads,
Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his:
And when I told the Empress of this sport,
She swooned almost at my pleasing tale,
And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses.

Goth.
What, can'st thou say all this, and never blush?

Aar.
Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is.

Luc.
Art thou not sorry for these hainous deeds?

Aar.
Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
Ev'n now I curse the day (and yet I think
Few come within the compass of my curse)
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
As kill a man, or else devise his death,
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent, and forswear my self,
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor mens cattle break their necks,
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears:
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends doors,
Ev'n when their sorrow almost was forgot,
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things,
As willingly as one would kill a fly;
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed,
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

Luc.
Bring down the devil, for he must not die
So sweet a death, as hanging presently.

Aar.
If there be devils, would I were a devil,

To live and burn in everlasting fire,
So I might have your company in hell,
But to torment you with my bitter tongue.

Luc.
Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more. Enter Æmilius.

Goth.
My lord, there is a messenger from Rome
Desires to be admitted to your presence.

Luc.
Let him come near.—
Welcome, Æmilius, what's the news from Rome?

Æmi.
Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths,
The Roman Emperor greets you all by me;
And, for he understands you are in arms,
He craves a parley at your father's house,
Willing you to demand your hostages,
And they shall be immediately deliver'd.

Goth.
What says our General?

Luc.
Æmilius, let the Emp'ror give his pledges
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus,
And we will come: march away. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Titus's Palace in Rome. Enter Tamora, Chiron and Demetrius, disguis'd.

Tam.
Thus in these strange and sad habiliments
I will encounter with Andronicus,
And say, I am Revenge sent from below,
To join with him, and right his heinous wrongs:
Knock at the study, where they say he keeps,
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge;
Tell him Revenge is come to join with him,

And work confusion on his enemies. [They knock, and Titus appears above.

Tit.
Who doth molest my contemplation?
Is it your trick to make me ope the door,
That so my sad decrees may fly away,
And all my study be to no effect?
You are deceiv'd, for what I mean to do,
See here in bloody lines I have set down;
And what is written, shall be executed.

Tam.
Titus, I am come to talk with thee.

Tit.
No not a word: how can I grace my talk,
Wanting a hand to give it that accord?
Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more.

Tam.
If thou didst know me, thou would'st talk with me.

Tit.
I am not mad, I know thee well enough;
Witness this wretched stump,
Witness the crimson lines,
Witness these trenches, made by grief and care,
Witness the tyring day and heavy night;
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well
For our proud Empress, mighty Tamora:
Is not thy coming for my other hand?

Tam.
Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora;
She is thy enemy, and I thy friend;
I am Revenge, sent from th' infernal kingdom,
To ease the gnawing vultur of thy mind,
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.
Come down, and welcome me to this world's light;
Confer with me of murder and of death;
There's not a hollow cave, or lurking place,
No vast obscurity or misty vale,
Where bloody Murther or detested Rape
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out,

And in their ears tell them my dreadful name,
Revenge, which makes the foul offenders quake.

Tit.
Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me,
To be a torment to mine enemies?

Tam.
I am; therefore come down and welcome me.

Tit.
Do me some service, ere I come to thee:
Lo by thy side where Rape and Murder stands;
Now give some surance that thou art Revenge,
Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels,
And then I'll come and be thy waggoner,
And whirl along with thee about the globes:
Provide two proper palfries black as jet,
To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away,
And find out murders in their guilty caves.
And when thy car is loaden with their heads,
I will dismount, and by thy waggon wheel
Trot like a servile foot-man all day long;
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east,
Until his very downfal in the sea.
And day by day I'll do this heavy task,
So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.

Tam.
These are my ministers, and come with me.

Tit.
Are they thy ministers; what are they call'd?

Tam.
Rapine and Murder; therefore called so,
'Cause they take vengeance on such kind of men.

Tit.
Good lord, how like the Empress' sons they are,
And you the Empress! but we worldly men
Have miserable mad mistaking eyes:
O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee,
And if one arm's embracement will content thee,
I will embrace thee in it by and by. [Exit Titus from above.

Tam.
This closing with him fits his lunacy.
Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,

Do you uphold, and maintain in your speech,
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge;
And being credulous in this mad thought,
I'll make him send for Lucius his son:
And whilst I at a banquet hold him sure,
I'll find some cunning practice out of hand,
To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths,
Or at the least make them his enemies:
See here he comes, and I must play my theam. SCENE IV. Enter Titus.

Tit.
Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee:
Welcome, dread fury, to my woful house;
Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too:
How like the Empress and her sons you are!
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor;
Could not all hell afford you such a devil?
For well I wot, the Empress never wags,
But in her company there is a Moor;
And would you represent our Queen aright,
It were convenient you had such a devil:
But welcome, as you are: what shall we do?

Tam.
What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?

Dem.
Shew me a murderer, I'll deal with him.

Chi.
Shew me a villain that hath done a rape,
And I am sent to be reveng'd on him.

Tam.
Shew me a thousand that have done thee wrong,
And I will be revenged on them all.

Tit.
Look round about the wicked streets of Rome,
And when thou find'st a man that's like thy self,
Good Murder stab him, he's a murderer.

Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap
To find another that is like to thee,
Good Rapine stab him, he is a ravisher.
Go thou with them, and in the Emperor's court
There is a Queen attended by a Moor;
Well may'st thou know her by thy own proportion,
For up and down she doth resemble thee;
I pray thee do on them some violent death;
They have been violent to me and mine.

Tam.
Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do.
But would it please thee, good Andronicus,
To send for Lucius thy thrice-valiant son,
Who leads tow'rds Rome a band of warlike Goths,
And bid him come and banquet at thy house.
When he is here, even at thy solemn feast,
I will bring in the Empress and her sons,
The Emperor himself, and all thy foes;
And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel,
And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart:
What says Andronicus to this device? Enter Marcus.

Tit.
Marcus my brother, 'tis sad Titus calls:
Go gentle Marcus to thy nephew Lucius;
Thou shalt enquire him out among the Goths:
Bid him repair to me; and bring with him
Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths;
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are;
Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too
Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them;
This do thou for my love, and so let him,
As he regards his aged father's life.

Mar.
This will I do, and soon return again. [Exit.

Tam.
Now will I hence about thy business,
And take my ministers along with me.

Tit.
Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me,
Or else I'll call my brother back again,
And cleave to no Revenge but Lucius.

Tam.
What say you, boys, will you abide with him,
Whiles I go tell my lord, the Emperor,
How I have govern'd our determin'd jest?
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair,
And tarry with him 'till I come again.

Tit.
I know them all, tho' they suppose me mad;
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices:
A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam. [Aside.

Dem.
Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here.

Tam.
Farewel, Andronicus, Revenge now goes
To lay a complot to betray thy foes. [Exit Tamora.

Tit.
I know thou dost, and sweet Revenge farewel.

Chi.
Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd?

Tit.
Tut, I have work enough for you to do.
Publius, come hither, Caius and Valentine. Enter Publius and Servants.

Pub.
What is your will?

Tit.
Know ye these two?

Pub.
The Empress' sons
I take them, Chiron, Demetrius.

Tit.
Fie, Publius, fie, thou art too much deceiv'd,
The one is Murder, Rape is th' other's name;
And therefore bind them, gentle Publius,
Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them;
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour,
And now I find it, therefore bind them sure. [Exit Titus.

Chi.
Villains, forbear, we are the Empress' sons.

Pub.
And therefore do we what we are commanded.
Stop close their mouths; let them not speak a word.
Is he sure bound? look that ye bind them fast. SCENE V. Enter Titus Andronicus with a Knife, and Lavinia with a Bason.

Tit.
Come, come, Lavinia, look, thy foes are bound;
Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful words I utter.
Oh villains, Chiron and Demetrius!
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud,
This goodly summer with your winter mixt:
You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death,
My hand cut off, and made a merry jest,
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.
What would you say if I should let you speak?
Villains!—for shame you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you.
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilst that Lavinia 'twixt her stumps doth hold
The bason that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me,
And calls her self Revenge, and thinks me mad—
Hark, villains, I will grind your bones to dust,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste,
And of the paste a coffin will I rear,
And make two pasties of your shameful heads,
And bid that strumpet, your unhallowd dam,
Like to the earth, swallow her own increase.

This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd.
And now prepare your throats: Lavinia, come,
Receive the blood; and when that they are dead
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this banquet, which I wish might prove
More stern and bloody than the Centaurs feast. [He cuts their throats.
So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook,
And see them ready 'gainst the mother comes. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner.

Luc.
Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind
That I repair to Rome, I am content.

Goth.
And ours with thine, befal what fortune will.

Luc.
Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil,
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him,
'Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror's face,
For testimony of these foul proceedings;
And see the ambush of our friends be strong,
I fear the Emperor means no good to us.

Aar.
Some devil whisper curses in my ear,
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart.

Luc.
Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd slave, [Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Flourish.

The trumpets shew the Emperor is at hand. SCENE VI. Sound trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.

Sat.
What, hath the firmament more suns than one?

Luc.
What boots it thee to call thy self a sun?

Mar.
Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break the parley;
These quarrels must be quietly debated:
The feast is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places.

Sat.
Marcus, we will. [Hautboys. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a veil over her face.

Tit.
Welcome, my gracious lord, welcome dread Queen,
Welcome, ye warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all; although the cheer be poor,
'Twill fill your stomachs, please you eat of it.

Sat.
Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?

Tit.
Because I would be sure to have all well,
To entertain your highness, and your Empress.

Tam.
We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.

Tit.
And if your highness knew my heart, you were.
My lord the Emperor, resolve me this;
Was it well done of rash Virginius,
To slay his daughter with his own right-hand,
Because she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflour'd?

Sat.
It was, Andronicus.

Tit.
Your reason, mighty lord?

Sat.
Because the girl should not survive her shame,
And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

Tit.
A reason mighty, strong, and effectual,
A pattern, precedent and lively warrant,
For me, most wretched, to perform the like:
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee,
And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die. [He kills her.

Sat.
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?

Tit.
Kill'd her for whom my tears have made me blind.
I am as woful as Virginius was,
And have a thousand times more cause than he
To do this outrage. And it is now done.

Sat.
What, was she ravish'd? tell, who did the deed?

Tit.
Will't please you eat, will't please your highness feed?

Tam.
Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

Tit.
Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue,
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

Sat.
Go fetch them hither to us presently.

Tit.
Why there they are both, baked in that pye,
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she her self hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true, witness my knife's sharp point. [He stabs the Empress.

Sat.
Die, frantick wretch, for this accursed deed. [He stabs Titus.

Luc.
Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. [Lucius stabs the Emperor.

Mar.
You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Rome,
By uprore sever'd, like a flight of fowl,
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
Oh let me teach you how to knit again

This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
These broken limbs again into one body.

Goth.
Let Rome her self be bane unto her self,
And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsie to,
Like a forlorn and desperate cast-away,
Do shameful execution on her self.

Mar.
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
Grave witnesses of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,
Speak, Rome's dear friend; as erst our ancestor, [To Lucius.
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear,
The story of that baleful burning night,
When subtile Greeks surpriz'd King Priam's Troy:
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.
My heart is not compact of flint nor steel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utt'rance; even in the time
When it should move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind commiseration.
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale,
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.

Luc.
Then noble auditory, be it known to you,
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius
Were they that murdered our Emperor's brother;
And they it were that ravished our sister:
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father's tears despis'd, and basely cozen'd
Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel out,
And sent her enemies into the grave.

Lastly, my self unkindly banished,
The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies,
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears,
And op'd their arms t' embrace me as a friend:
And I am turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood,
And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body.
Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I;
My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my report is just, and full of truth.
But soft, methinks I do digress too much,
Citing my worthless praise: oh pardon me,
For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.

Mar.
Now is my tongue to speak: behold this child,
Of this was Tamora delivered,
The issue of an irreligious Moor,
Chief architect and plotter of these woes;
The villain is alive in Titus' house,
And as he is, to witness this is true.
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
Or more than any living man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what say you Romans?
Have we done ought amiss? shew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,
We'll hand in hand all head-long cast us down,
And on the ragged stones beat out our brains,
And make a mutual closure of our house:
Speak, Romans, speak, and if you say we shall,
Lo hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Æm.
Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand,
Lucius our Emperor: for well I know,
The common voice do cry it shall be so.

Mar.
Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor;
Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death,
As punishment for his most wicked life.
Lucius all hail! Rome's gracious governor.

Luc.
Thanks gentle Romans: may I govern so,
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe.
But, gentle people, give me aim a while,
For nature puts me to a heavy task:
Stand all aloof; but uncle draw you near,
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk:
Oh take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face;
That last true duties of thy noble son.

Mar.
Ay, tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
O were the sum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.

Luc.
Come hither boy, come, come, and learn of us
To melt in showers; thy grandsire lov'd thee well;
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee;
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow:
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
Meet and agreeing with thy infancy;
In that respect then, like a loving child,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,
Because kind nature doth require it so;
Friends should associate friends, in grief and woe:

Bid him farewel, commit him to the grave,
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Boy.
O grandsire, grandsire! ev'n with all my heart,
Would I were dead, so you did live again—
O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping—
My tears will choak me, if I ope my mouth. SCENE VII. Enter Romans with Aaron.

Rom.
You sad Andronici, have done with woes,
Give sentence on this execrable wretch,
That hath been breeder of these dire events.

Luc.
Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him:
There let him stand, and rave and cry for food:
If any one relieves or pities him,
For the offence he dies: this is our doom.
Some stay to see him fastned in the earth.

Aar.
O why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb?
I am no baby, I, that with base prayers
I should repent the evil I have done:
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did,
Would I perform, if I might have my will:
If one good deed in all my life I did,
I do repent it from my very soul.

Luc.
Some loving friends convey the Emp'ror hence,
And give him burial in his father's grave.
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closed in our houshold's monument:
As for that hainous tygress Tamora,
No funeral rites, nor man in mournful weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey:

Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity,
And being so, shall have like want of pity.
See justice done on Aaron that damn'd Moor,
From whom our heavy haps had their beginning;
Then afterwards, we'll order well the state,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt omnes.

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