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And set abroad new business for you all?
Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honor thee, and will do till I die : My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be; and thanks to men Of noble minds is honorable meed.
Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,
I ask your voices and your suffrages:
That you create your emperor's eldest son,
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
I hold me highly honor'd of your grace:
Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!
Tit. [To Tamora] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor;
To him that, for your honor and your state, Will use you nobly and your followers.
Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance : Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,
Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: Proclaim our honors, lords, with trump and drum.
[Flourish. Saturninus courts Tamora in dumb show. Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord ?
Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal To do myself this reason and this right. Marc. 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice : 280
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
And with my sword I'll keep this door safe.
[During the fray, Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron and Aaron go out and re-enter, above.
Luc. My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promised love. [Exit. Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: 300 I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Confederates all thus to dishonor me.
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale, But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands. Tit. O monstrous ! what reproachful words are these?
But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword:
That like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee empress of Rome, 320 Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, 330
Sat. Ascend, 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 shall we consummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt all but Titus. Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, 339 Dishonor'd thus, and challenged of wrongs ?
- Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS.
Marc. O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonor'd all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! Luc. But let us give him burial, as be
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: 351 Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: Bury him where you can; he comes not here.
Marc. My lord, this is impiety in you: My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him; He must be buried with his brethren.
Quin. And shall, or him we will accomMart. pany. Tit. And shall!' what villain was it spake that word?
Quin. He that would vouch it in any place but here. 360 Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite ?
Marc. No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius and to bury him.
Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest,
And, with these boys, mine honor thou hast wounded:
My foes I do repute you every one;
So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. Mart. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. [Marcus and the Sons of Titus kneel. Marc. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead.370 Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature speak,
Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. Marc. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,
Luc. Dear father, soul and substance of us all,
Marc. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, That died in honor and Lavinia's cause. Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous : The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son 380 Did graciously plead for his funerals : Let not young Mutius, 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 dishonor'd by my sons in Rome! Well, bury him, and bury me the next. [Mutius is put into the tomb. Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. All. [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius;
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. Marc. My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, 391 How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome ?
Tit. I know not, Marcus; but I know it is : Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell :
And basely put it up without revenge? Tam. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend
I should be author to dishonor you!
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart
Tam. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honor, good my lord, That I have reconciled your friends and you. For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. 470 And fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia ; By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty.
Luc. We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness, That what we did was mildly as we might, Tendering our sister's honor and our own. Marc. That, on mine honor, here I do protest. Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no
Tam. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends: 479 The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; I will not be denied sweet heart, look back. Sat. Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's here, And at my lovely Tamora's entreats,
I do remit these young men's heinous faults: Stand up.
Lavinia, though you left me like a churl,
[ found a friend, and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 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, an it please your majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound we'll give your grace bonjour.
Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Flourish. Exeunt.
How furious and impatient they be,
I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths
Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. Aar. [Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus
may. Dem. Then why should he despair that knows to court it
With words, fair looks and liberality?
To square for this? would it offend you, then, 100
That both should speed?
Chi. Faith, not me.
'Tis policy and stratagem must do
Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,
The fields are fragrant and the woods are green:
Uncouple here and let us make a bay
Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS.
Marc. I have dogs, my lord, 20 Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top.
Tit. And I have horse will follow where
the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. Dem.
Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A lonely part of the forest. Enter AARON, with a bag of gold.
Aar. He that had wit would think that I had none,
To bury so much gold under a tree,
Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And, whilst the babbling echo mock the