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. Baf. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,

But honour thee, and will do 'till I'die:
My faction if thou ftrengthen with thy friends,
I will moft thankful be; and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and noble tribunes here,
I afk your voices, and your fuffrages,
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Mar. To gratify the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his fafe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you, and this fuit I make,
That you create your Emperor's eldeft fon,
Lord Saturnine; whofe 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 fay,-Long live our Emperor!
Mar. With voices and applaufe of every fort,
Patricians and Plebeians, we create
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great Emperor;
And fay,-Long live our Emperor Saturnine!

[A long 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 deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And for an onfet, Titus, to advance
Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my Emperefs,

Rome's royal miftrefs, miftrefs of my heart,

And in the facred Pantheon 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,
King and commander of our common-weal,

The

The wide world's Emperor, do I confecrate
My fword, my chariot, and my prifoners;
Prefents well worthy Rome's imperial Lord.
Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,
Mine honour's enfigns humbled at thy feet.
Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts,
Rome thall record; and when I do forget
The leaft of thefe unfpeakable deferts,
Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, madam, are you prifoner to an Emperor;
To him, that for your honour and your ftate
Will ufe you nobly, and your followers.

Sat. A goodly Lady, truft me, of the hue [To Tamora. That I would chufe, were I to chufe a-new:

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 fcorn in Rome:
Princely fhall be thy ufage every way.

Reft on my word, and let not difcontent

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. Ranfomlefs here we fet our prisoners 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 juftice:

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. Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf.

Baf. By him, that juftly may

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exit Baffinus with Lavinia, Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword 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!

[He kills bim.

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:
My fons would never fo difhonour 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.

Sat. No, Titus, no, the Emperor needs her not;
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy ftock;
I'll truft by leisure hiin, that mocks me once:
Thee never, nor thy traiterous haughty fons,
Confederates all, thus to dishonour me.

Was there none else in Rome to make a ftale of,
But Saturnine? full well, Andronicus,

Agree thefe deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That faid'ft, I beg'd the empire at thy hands.

Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are thefe;
Sat. But go thy ways; go give that changing piece,
To him that flourish'd for her with his fword;
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 ftately Phabe '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 Emperefs of Rome.

Speak, Queen of Geths, doft thou applaud my choice?

And here I fwear by all the Roman gods,
(Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn fo bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymeneus ftands,)

I will not re-falute the ftreets 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 swear, 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 ;
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered:
There fhall we confummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt.
Manet Titus Andronicus.

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?

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 dishonoured all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy fons.

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

Tit. Traitors, away! he refts not in this tomb;
This monument five hundred years hath stood,
Which I have fumptuously re-edified:

Here none but foldiers, and Rome's fervitors,
Repose in fame: none bafely flain 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 buried with his bretheren. [Titus's fons Speak.

Sons.

Sons. And fhall, or him we will accompany. Tit. And fhall? what villain was it fpake that word? [Titus's fon Speaks.

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 in treat of thee

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, ev'n thou haft 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.
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 nest,
That died in honour, and Lavinia's caufe.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.

The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax, (7)
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, rife

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

[They put him in the tamb. Luc. There lye thy bones, fweet Mutius, with thy friends,

(7) The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax,

That flew bimfelf-] As the author before fhew'd himself acquainted with a circumftance glean'd from Euripides, we find him there no lefs converfant with the Ajax of SOPHOCLES; in which Ulyffes and Teucer ftrenuously contend for permiffion to bury the body of Ajax, tho' he had been declar'd an enemy to the confederate ftates of Greece.

VOL. VI.

K

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