As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates, and let me in.
Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor.
[Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, and
exeunt with Senators, Marcus, &c.
SCENE II.-THE SAME.
Enter a Captain, and others.
C. 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 he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of Trumpets, &c. Enter Mutius and Martius: after them, two Men, bearing a Coffin covered with black; then Quintus and Lucius. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, with Alarbus, Chiron, Demetrius, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People following. The Bearers set down the Coffin, and Titus speaks.
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 first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute 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 sufferest thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?-
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[The Tomb is opened.
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?
L. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly 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.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren;-Gracious con-
queror,
Victorious Titus, rue the 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 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 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, whom youGoths beheld Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd; and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
L. Away with him! and make a fire straight;
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and
Mutius, with Alarbus.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive To tremble under Titus' threatening look. Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal, The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of With opportunity of sharp revenge [Troy Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, Mayfavour Tamora, the queen of Goths, [queen,) (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with their Swords bloody.
L. See,lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, [sky. Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And, with loud "larums welcome them to Rome. Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Trumpets sounded, and the Coffins laid in the Tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no inward grudges; here are no
storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
Enter Lavinia.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
L. 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 Rome's best citizens applaud.
T.Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!-
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!
As I am confident and kind to thee.Open the gates, and let me in. Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor. [Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, and exeunt with Senators, Marcus, &c.
SCENE II.-THE SAME.
Enter a Captain, and others.
C. 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 he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of Trumpets, &c. Enter Mutius and Martius: after them, two Men, bearing a Coffin covered with black; then Quintus and Lucius. After them, Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, with Alarbus, Chiron, Deme
trius, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People following. The Bearers set down the Coffin, and Titus speaks.
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 first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel bouglis,
To re-salute 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 sufferest thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?-
Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[The Tomb is opened.
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?
L. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly 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.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren;-Gracious con-
queror,
Victorious Titus, rue the 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 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 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, whom youGoths beheld Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd; and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
L. Away with him! and make a fire straight;
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and
Mutius, with Alarbus.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive To tremble under Titus' threatening look. Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal, The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, Mayfavour Tamora, the queen of Goths, [queen,) (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with their Swords bloody.
L. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And, with loud "larums welcome them to Rome. Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Trumpets sounded, and the Coffins laid in the Tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no inward grudges; here are no
storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:
Enter Lavinia.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
L. 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 Rome's best citizens applaud.
T.Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!-
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!
|