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Ransomless here we fet our prisoners free ;
Proclaim our honours, Lords, with trump and drum.
Baf. 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 resolv'd withal, To do my self this reason and this right,

[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb fhew, Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice : This prince in justice seizeth but his own.

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

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

Sat. Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf. By him that juftly may
Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exit Baffianus with Lavinia.

Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my sword I'll keep this door secure.

Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll soon bring her back.
Mut. My Lord, you pass not here.

Tit. What! villain-boy,
Barr'ft me my way in Rome ?

[He kills bim, Mut. Help, Lucius, help.

Luc. My Lord, you are unjust, and more than so,
In wrongful quarrel you have Nain your son.

Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine.
My fons, would never fo dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor,

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

Sat. 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 fons,
Copfederates all, thus to di honour me.
Was there none else in Rome to make a ftale of
But Saturnine full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,



That said't, I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

Tit. O monstrous! 'what reproachful words are these ?

Sat. But go thy ways; to give that changing piece,
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword ;
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy :
One fit to bandy with thy lawless fons,
To ruffille in the commonwealth of Rome.

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.

Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora Queen of Gorbs,
That, like the stately Pbæbe 'mong her nymphs,
Doft over-shine the gallant'At 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 device?
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 Hymenæus ftands,)
I will not re-salute the Atreets 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 heav'n to Rome I swear,
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Gorbs,
She will a handmaid be to his defires,
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.

Sat. Ascend, fair Queen, Pantbeon ; 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,

SCENE V. Manet Titus Andronicus.
Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride.
Tirus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Difhonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and Marcus.

Mar. Oh, Titus, see, oh see what thou hast done!
In a bad quarrel Nain a virtuous son.

Tit. No, foolish Tribune, no: no son of mine, Nor thou, not these contederates in the dead,


That hath dishonour'd all our family ;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy fons !

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, be comes not here.

Mar. My Lord, this is impiety in you ;
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him,
He muft be buried with his brethren.

Sons, And shall, or him we will accompany:
Tit. And shall? what villain was it spake that word ?
Quin. He that would vouch't 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, ev’n thou haft ftruck upon my creft,
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 well 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 speak,-
Tit. 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 interr
His noble nephew here in virtue's neft,
That died in honour, and Lavinia's cause.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
That New himself; and wise Laertes' fon
Dld 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 dishonour'd by my sons in Rome :
Well, bury him, and bury me the next. .

[They put bim in the tomb. Luc. There lye thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, 'Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb !

[They all kneel, and say,
No man shed tears for noble Mutius !
He lives in fame, that died in virtue's cause.

Mar. My Lord, to step out of these dreary dumps,
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Gorbs
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome ?

Tit. I know not, Marcus ; but I know it is :
If by device or no, the heav'ns can tell :
Is the not then bebolden to the man,
That brought her for this high good turn so far?

Flourish. Enter the Emperor, Tamora, Chiron, and De-

metrius, with the Moor at one door. At the other door
Baffianus and Lavinia with others.

Sat. So, Baffianus, you have plaid your prize ; God give you joy, Sir, of your gallant bride!

Bas. And you of yours, my Lord; I say no more, Nor with no less, and so I take my leave.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

Baf. 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 pofseft of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, Sir ; you are very Ahort 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 thall 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 Nay 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, Saturnine,
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 Saturnine.

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 patt,

Sat, What, Madam, be dishonour'd openly, And basely put it up without revenge?

Tam. Not so, my Lord; the Gods of Rome forc-fend, I should be author to dishonour you: But, on mine honour dare I undertake. For good Lord Titus' innocence in all; Whose fury not diffembled speaks-bis griefs : Then at my suit look graciously on him, Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with scur looks afflict his gentle heart. My Lord, be ruld by me, be won at last, [ Afide. Dissemble all your griefs and discontents : You are but newly planted in your throne ; Left then the people and patricians too Upon a juft survey take Titus' part, And so supplant us for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a hainous fin, Yield at intreats, and then let me alone

3 l'll find a day to mallacre them all, And rase their faction, and their family, The cruel father, and his traiterous fons, 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, Andronicus Aloud. Take up this good old man, and chear the heart,


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