Sirs, ftop their Mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful Words I utter.
Oh Villains, Chiron and Demetrius !
Here ftands the Spring whom you have ftain'd with Mid,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
You kill'd her Husband, and for that vile Fault,
Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to Death,
My Hand cut off, and made a merry jeft,
Both her fweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more dear
Than Hands or Tongue, her fpotlefs Chastity,
Inhuman Traitors, you conftrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains!- for fhame you could not beg for Grace.
Hark, Wretches, how I mean to Martyr you.
This one Hand yet is left to cut your Throats,
Whilft that Lavinia 'twixt her Stumps doth hold
The Bason that receives your guilty Blood.
You know your Mother means to feaft with me,
And calls her felf Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, Villains, I will grind your Bones to Duft,
And with your Blood and it, I'll make a Pafte,
And of the Pafte a Coffin will I rear,
And make two Pafties of your fhameful Heads,'
And bid that Strumpet, your unhallowed Dam,
Like to the Earth, fwallow her own Increase.
This is the Feaft that I have bid her to,
And this the Banquet she shall furfeit 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 fmall,
And with this hateful Liquor temper it;
And in that Pafte let their wild Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this Banquet, which I wish might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs Feaft.
So, now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook,
And fee them ready 'gainft the Mother comes.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prifoner. 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 accurfed Devil, Let him receive no Suftenance, fetter him, Fill he be brought unto the Emperor's Face, For Teftimony of thefe foul proceedings, And fee the Ambush of our Friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some Devil whifper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tongue may utter forth
The venemous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc.Away, inhuman Dog, unt allowed Slave,
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in.
The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.
Sat. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thy felf a Sun? Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, Thefe Quarrels must be quietly Debated:
The Featt is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honourable end,
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome :
Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
[Hautboys. 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 Geths, welcome Lucius, And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your Stomachs, pleafe you eat of it.
Sa. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well, To entertain your Highness, and your Empress. Tam. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. Tit. And if your Highnefs knew my Heart, you were; My Lord, the Emperor, refolve me this?
Sirs, ftop their Mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful Words I utter.
Oh Villains, Chiron and Demetrius !
Here ftands the Spring whom you have ftain'd with Mid,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
You kill'd her Husband, and for that vile Fault,
Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to Death,
My Hand cut off, and made a merry jeft,
Both her fweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more dear
Than Hands or Tongue, her fpotlefs Chastity,
Inhuman Traitors, you conftrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains!for fhame 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 Stumps doth hold
The Balon that receives your guilty Blood.
You know your Mother means to feaft with me,
And calls her felf Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, Villains, I will grind your Bones to Duft,
And with your Blood and it, I'll make a Pafte,
And of the Pafte a Coffin will I rear,
And make two Pafties of your fhameful Heads,'
And bid that Strumpet, your unhallowed Dam,
Like to the Earth, (wallow her own Increase.
This is the Feast that I have bid her to,
And this the Banquet she shall furfeit 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 fmall,
And with this hateful Liquor temper it;
And in that Pafte let their wild Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this Puet, which I wish might prove
play the Cook,
Mother comes.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prifoner. 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 accurfed Devil, Let him receive no Suftenance, fetter him, 'Till he be brought unto the Emperor's Face, For Teftimony of thefe foul proceedings, And fee the Ambush of our Friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some Devil whifper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tongue may utter forth
The venemous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc.A way, inhuman Dog, unhallowed Slave,
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in.
The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.
Sat. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one?
Luc. What boots it thee to call thy felf a Sun?
Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley,
Thefe Quarrels must be quietly Debated:
The Featt is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honourable end,
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome :
Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
Sat. Marcus, we will.
[Hautboys. 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 Queer,
Welcome, ye Warlike Geths, welcome Lucius, And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your Stomachs, please you eat of it.
Sa. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well, To entertain your Highness, and your Empress. Tam. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. Tit. And if your Highnefs knew my Heart, you were; My Lord, the Emperor, refolve me this?
Sirs, ftop their Mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful Words I utter.
Oh Villains, Chiron and Demetrius !
Here ftands the Spring whom you have ftain'd with Mad,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
You kill'd 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 fweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more dear
Than Hands or Tongue, her fpotlefs Chastity,
Inhuman Traitors, you conftrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains!for fhame 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 Stumps doth hold
The Bason that receives your guilty Blood.
You know your Mother means to feaft with me,
And calls her felf Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, Villains, I will grind your Bones to Duft,
And with your Blood and it, I'll make a Pafte,
And of the Pafte a Coffin will I rear,
And make two Pafties of your fhameful Heads,'
And bid that Strumpet, your unhallowed Dam,
Like to the Earth, fwallow her own Increase.
This is the Feaft that I have bid her to,
And this the Banquet fhe fhall furfeit 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 fmall,
And with this hateful Liquor temper it;
And in that Pafte let their wild Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this Banquet, which I wish might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs Feaft.
So, now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook,
And fee them ready 'gainst the Mother comes.
|