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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 ftood,
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 Sons 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 Mutius, 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 Brorber and the Sons kneel.
Mar. Brother, for in that Name doth Nature plead.
Quin. Father, and in that Name doth Nature speak.
Tis. 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 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 Murins then, that was thy Joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

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

Well,

Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

[They put him in the Tomb Luc. There lyethy Bones, sweet Mutins, with thy Friends 'Till we with Trophics do adorn thy Tomb.

They all kneel

, and fly
No Man Thed Tears for noble Mutins.
He lives in Fame, that died in Virtue's Cause.

Mar. My Lord, to step out of these sudden Dumps,
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 devise or no, che Heavens can tell:
Is the not then beholding to the Man,
That brought her for this high good turn so far ?
Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.
Flourish. Enter the Emperor, Tamora, Chiron and Deme

trius with the Moor at one Door. At the other Door Baffi
nus and Lavinia with others.

Sat, So, Basianus, you have plaid your Prize,
God give you Joy, Sir, of your Gallant Bride.

Baf. 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 Fa&ion 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 pofleft 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.

Baf. 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 which 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 control'd in that he frankly gave ;
Receive him then to favour, Saturning,

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That

That hath exprest himself in all his Deeds,
A Father and a Friend to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince Baffianus, 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 Saiurnine.

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 paft.

Sat. What, Madam, be dishonoured openly,
And basely put it up without Revenge?

Tam. Not so, my Lord,
The Gods of Rome fore-fend,
I should be Author to dishonour you,
But, on mine Honour dare, I undertake,
For good Lord Titus's innocence in all ;
Whose Fury not dissembled speaks his Griefs :
Then at my Suit look graciously on him,
Lose not so noble a Friend on vain suppose,
Nor with lowre looks affli& his gentle Heart.
My Lord, be ruld by me, be won at last,
Disemble all your Griefs and Discontents,
You are buc newly planted in your

Throne;
Left then the People and Partricians too,
Upon a just Survey take Titus part,
And fo supplant us for Ingratitude,
Which Rome reputes to be a hainous Sin,
Yield at Intreats, and then let me alone ;
I'll find a Day to Massacre them all,
And raze their Faction, and their family,
The Cruel Father, and his Traiterous Sons,
To whom I sued for my dear Son's Life:
And make them know what 'tis to let a Queen
Kneel in the Streets, and beg for Grace in vain.
Come, come, sweet Emperor, come Andronicas,
Take up this good old Mar, and chear the Heart,
That dies in Tempest of thy angry Frown.

Sat. Rife, Titus, rise,
My Empress hath prevailid.
Tit. I thank

your Majesty, VOL. IV.

I i

[Aside.

And

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 för his good.
This Day all Quarrels die, Andronicus,
And let it be my Honour, good my Lord,
That I have reconcil'd your Friends and you.
For you, Prince Baffianus, I have past
My Word and Promise to the Emperor,
I hat you will be more mild and tractable.
And fear not, Lords;
And you, Lavinia,
By my Advice all humbled on your Knees,
You Mall ask Pardon of bis Majesty.

Luc. We do,
And vow to Heaven, and to his Highness,
That what we did, was mildly, as we might,
Tendring our Sister's Honour and our own,

Mar. That on mine Honour here I do proceft.
Sat. Away, and talk not, trouble us no more.

Tam. Nay, này,
Sweet Emperor we must all be Friends.
The Tribune and his Nephews kneel for Grace,
I will not be denied, Sweet-heart, look back.

Sat. Marcus,
For thy fake and thy Brother's here,
And at my lovely Tamora's Intrear's
I do remit these young Mens hainous Faulis.
Stand up. Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
I found a Friend, and sure as Death I swore,
I would not part a Batchelor from the Prieit.
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, and it please your Majesty,
To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me,
With Horn and Hound, we'll give your Grace Bon.jour.
Sat. Be it so, Titus, and Gramercy too. (Exeunt.

ACT

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