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And of the paste a coffin will I rear,
And make two pasties of your shameful heads ;
And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd 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,
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 vile 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 Centaur's feast. 370

(He cuts their Throats. So, now bring them in, for I will play the cook, And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes.



Enter Lucius, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON

Prisoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind, That I repair to Rome, I am content. Goth. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. lij


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Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous

This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil ;
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him,
Till he be brought unto the emperor's face,
For testimony of these foul proceedings :
And see the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear, the emperor means no good to us.

Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear,
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart!
Luc. Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave!--

[Excunt Goths, with AARON. Şirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Flourish. The trumpets shew, the emperor is at hand.

Sound Trumpets.

Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with Tribunes and others.

Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than

one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? 390 Mar. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the

parle; These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast 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

Sat. Marcus, we will.


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A Table brought in. Enter Titus, like a Cook, placing

the Meat on the Table, and LAVINIA, with a Veil over
her Face.
Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread

queen ;
Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius ;
And welcome, all : although the cheer be poor, 400
'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus ?

Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well,
To entertain your highness, and your emperess.

Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.
Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you



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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 deflower'd ?
Sat. It was, Andronicus.

Tit. Your reason, mighty lord ?
Sat. Because the girl should not survive her

And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual ;
A pattern, precedent, 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?

420 Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me

blind. I am as woeful as Virginius was : And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage ;-and it is now done, Sat. What, was she ravished ? tell, who did the

deed. Tit. Will't please you eat ? will't please your high

ness feed? Tam. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter

thus ?
Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius :
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue,
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently. 431

Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pye; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point.

(He stabs TAMORA. Sat. Die, frantick wretch, for this accursed deed.

[He stabs Titus. Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. LUCIUS stabs SATURNINUS.



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Mar. You sad fac'd men, people and sons of

By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl

Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
O, let me teach you how to knit again
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
These broken limbs again into one body.

Goth. Let Rome herself be bane unto herself;
And she, whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to,
Like a forlorn and desperate cast-away,
Do shameful execution on herself.

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-sick Dido's sad attending ear,
The story of that, baleful burning night,
When subtle Greeks surpriz'd king Priam's Troy ;
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ear's,
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 drown my oratory,
And break my very utterance ; even in the time
When it should move you to attend me most.
Lending your kind commiseration :
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale ;


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