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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 Mid,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
You killd 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 conftrain'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 Scumps 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 uphallowed 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,
[He cuts their Throats, and Lavinia receives the
Blood in a Bafon.
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 wild 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.
So, now bring them in, for P'll play the Cook,
And see them ready 'gainst the Mother comes. (Exeunt.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner.
Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince '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, feteer him,
'Till he be brought unto the Emperor's Face,
For Testimony of these foul proceedings,
And Tee 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 venemous Malice of my swelling Heart.
Luc.A way, inhuman Dog, upt allowed Slave,
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in. Flourish.
The Trumpets Thew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tri-
bunes and others. S.ar. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What borts it thee to call thy self a Sun? Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, These Quarrels must be quietly Debated : The Feait is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordaired to an honourable end, For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome : Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places. Sar. Marcus, we will.
(Hautbors. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the Meat
on the Table, and Lavinia with a Veil over her Face.
Titus. 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.
Sa. Why are 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 beholding 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.
Tii. Your Reason, mighty Lord ?
Sat. Because the Girl should not survive her Shame,
And by her Presence ftill renew his Sorrows.
Tit. A Reason mighty, strong, and effe&tual,
A Pattern, President 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. Killd 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.
Sat. What, was the ravish'd ? tell, who did the Deed ?
Tit. Will't please you eat, Will't please your Highness feed?
Tam. Why halt thou slain thine only Daughter thus?
Tit. Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius.
They ravisid 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 dainoily hath fed,
Eating the Flesh that she herself hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true, witness my Knife's sharp Point.
[He stabs the Empress. Sat. Die, frantick Wretch, for this accurled Deed.
He stabs Titus.
Ls. Can the Son's Eyes behold his Father bleed?
There's meed for meed, Death for a deadly Died.
[Lucius stabs the Emperor,
Mar. You sad-fac'd Men, People and Sons of Rome,
By uprore severd, like a flight of Fowl,
Scatter'd by Winds and high tempistuous Guíts,
Oh let me teach you, how to knit again
This scatter'd Coro into one mutual Sheaf,
Thire briken Limbs again into one Body.
Goth. Lef Rome her self be bane unto her full,
And the whom mighty Kingdoms curtsie to,
Like a forlorn and desperate Caft-away,
Do shameful Execution on her felf.
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-lick 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 drou n my Oratory,
And break my very utterance; even in the time
When it should move you to attend me moft,
Lending your kind Hand, Commiseration.
Here is a Caprain, let him tell the Tale,
Your Hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Luc. This 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 unkirdly 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 to 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 adventrous 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 Tirus House,
And as he is, to witness this is true.
Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
These wrongs, unspeakable, par Patience,
Or more than any living Man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what say you Romans
Have we done ought amiss? Thew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,
Will Hand in Hand all headlong 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 fo.
Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rame's Royal Emperor ;
Go, go into old Titus's sorrowful House,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd some direful Naughtering Death,
As punishment for his most wicked Life.
Lucims 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 forrowful drops upon thy Blood-stain'd Face;
The last true Duties of thy Noble Son.