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And buried one and twenty valiant Sons,
Knighted in Field, Nain manfully in Arms,
In Řight 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 the Empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canst thou tell?
Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus,

Sat. Romans, do me right.
Patricians draw your Swords, and Meath them not
'Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor :
Andronicus, would thou wert sipt to Hell,
Rather than rob me of the Peoples Hearts.

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That Noble-minded Titu's means to thee.

Tit. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee,
The Peoples Hearts, and wean them from themselves,

Baf. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
But honour thee, and will do 'till I die:
My Fa&ion, if thou strengthen with thy Friends,
I will most thankful be; and thanks to Men
Of noble Minds is honourable Meed.

Tit. People of Rome, and noble Tribunes here,
I ask your Voices, and your Suffrages,
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?

Mar. To gratifie the good Andronicus,
And gratulate his fafe Return to Rome,
The People will accept whom he admits.

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you, and this suit I ntake,
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.
[À long Flourish'till they come down.

Sat.

Sar. 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 require thy gentleness:
And for an Onset, Titus, to advance
Thy Name, and honourable Family,
Lavinia will I make my Emperels,
Rome's Royal Mistress, Mistress of my Heart,
And in the sacred 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 honourd of your

Grace:
And here in sight of Rome, to Saturninus,
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 Honours Enligns humbled at thy Feet.

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 lealt of these unspeakable Deserts,
Romans forget your Healty to me,

Tir. Now, Madam, are you Prisoner to an Emperor,
To him that for your Honour and your State
Will use you nobly, and your followers.

Sat. A goodly Lady, trust me, of the Huc,
That I would churc, were I to chuse 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 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 greater than the Queen of Goths.
Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this?

Lav. Nor I, my Lord, fith true Nobility
Warrants these words in Princely Courtefie.

Sat. Thanks, fwect Lavinia. Romans, let us go.
Ranfomless here we set our Prisoners free,

Proclaim

1

Proclaim our Honours, Lords, with Trumpet and Drum. Baf. Lord Tirus, by your leave this Maid is mine..

[Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, Sir? Are you in earnest then, my Lord ?

Baf. Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal, To do my self this Reason and this Right.

[The Emperor Courts Tamora in dumb few. Mar. Suum cuique, is our Roman Justice: This Prince in Justice deizeth but his own.

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

Tit. Traitors, avant ! where is the Emperor's Guard? Treason, my Lord; Lavinia is surpriz’d.

Sat. Surprizd ! by whom?

Baf. By him that justly, may
Bear his Betroth'd from all the World away.

[Exit Baffianus with Lavini Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away. And with my Sword I'll keep the Door close.

Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll soon bring her back.
Mut. My Lord, you pass not here.
Tit. What Villain, Boy, barr'st me my way is Rome?
Mut. Help, Lucius, help.

He kills him.
Luc. My Lord, you are unjust, ar.d more than fo,
In wrongful Quarrel you have slain your Son.

Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any Sons of mine.
My Sons would never so Dishonor me.
Traitor, restore Livinia to the Emperor.

Luc. Dead, if you will, but not to be his Wife,
That is another's lawful promis'd Love.

Emp. 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 Rome to make a Stale of
But Saturnine ? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these Deeds, with that proud Brag of thine,
That said'ft, I beg'd the Empire at thy Hands.

Tit. O Monstrous ! what reproachful Words are these 3

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

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 Gorbs,
That like the stately Phæbé 'mongst her Nymphs,
Doft over-thine the Gallant'st Dames of Rome,
If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden Choice,
Behold I chuse thee, Tamora, for my Bride,
And will create thee Emperess 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 every thing
In readiness for Hymeneus stand,
I will not re-falute the Sireets of Rome,
Or climb my Palace, 'till from forth this place
I lead espous'd my Bride along with me.

Tam. And here in fight of Heaven to Rome I swear,
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
She will a Hand-maid be to his Defires,
A loving Nurse, a Mother to his Youth.

Sat. Ascend, Fair Queen,
Pantheon Lords, accompany
Your noble Emperor, and his lovely Bride,
Sent by the Heavens for Prince Saturnine;
Whole Wisdom hath her Fortune Conquered,
There shall we consummate our Sponsal Rites.

[Exeunt.
Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this Bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonoured thus, and challenged of Wrongs?
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and Marcus.

Mar. O Titus fee, O fee wbat thou hast done!
In a bad Quarrel llain a Virtuous Son.

Tit. No, foolish Tribune, no: No Son of mine,
Nor thou, nor these Confederates in the Deed,
That hath Dishonoured all our Family,
Unworthy Brother, and unworthy Sons.

Luc. But let us give him Burial as becomes,
Give Mutius Burial with our Brethren.

Tit. Traitors away, he rests not in this Tomb;
This Monument five hundred Years hath stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified:
Here none but Soldiers, and Rome's Servitors,
Repose in Fame : None basely Nain in Brawls.
Bury him where you can, he comes not here.

Mar. My Lord, this is Impiety in you,
My Nephew Mutius's Deeds do plead for him,
He must be buried with his Brethren.

(Titus's Soros speak. Sons. And shall, or him we will accompany. Tit. And shall? What Villain was it spake that Word?

[Titus's Son speaks. Quin. He that would vouch in any place but here. Tit. What would you bury him in my Despight?

Mar. No, noble Titus, but intreat of thee,
To pardon Mutins, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck 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.

Luc. He is not himself, let us withdraw.
Quin. Not I, till Mutius Bones be buried.

[The Brother and the Sons kneel.
Mar. Brother, for in that Name doth Nature plead.
Quin. Father, and in that Name doth Nature (peak.
Tis. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my Soul.
Lwc. Dear Father, Soul and Substance of us all.

Mar. Suffer thy Brother Marcus to inter
His noble Nephew here in Virtues Nest,
That died in Honour, and Lavinia's Cause.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous :
The Greeks upon Advice did bury Ajax
That flew himself ; And ev'n Laertes Son
Did graciously plead for his Funerals:
Let not young Musius then, that was thy Joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise
The dismall'It Day is this that e'er I saw,
To be Dillionoured by my Sons in Romo ;

Well,

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