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Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride ;-
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,
Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs ?

Mar. 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 dishonour'd all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons !

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 stood,
Which I have sumptuously re-edified;
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.

Mar. My lord, this is impiety in you :
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him ; 360
He must be buried with his brethren.

[Titus' Sons speak.
Sons. And shall, or him we will accompany.
Tit. And shall ? What yillain waş it spoke that
word :

[Titus' Son speaks. 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 entreat of thee To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest. And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast

wounded. My foes I do repute you every one;

370 So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

Luc. He is not with 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

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
That died in honour 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
Did graciously plead for his funerals :
Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

380 Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise :The dismallest day is this, that e'er I saw, To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome!-- 390 Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

[They put him in the Tomb, Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy

friends. 'Till we with trophies do adora thy tomb !

[They all kneel and say ; No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame, that dy'd in virtue's cause. Mar. My lord, to step out of these dreary

How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths
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 heavens can tell;
Is she not then beholden to the man
That brought her for this high good turn so far?
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.


Flourish. Re-enter the Emperor, TAMORA, CHIRON,

DEMETRIUS, with AARON the Moor, at one Door : At the other Door, BASSIANUS and LAVINIA, with others.

Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize; God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.

Bas. And you of yours, my lord : I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.


Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have

power, Thou and thy faction shall repent


rape. Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My true betrothed love, and now my wife ?

411 But let the laws of Rome determine all; Mean while I am possest of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, sir : You are very short with us; But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must, and shall 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,

420 Is in opinion, and in honour, wrongd ; That, in the rescue of Lavinia, With his own hand did slay 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 express'd himself, in all his deeds, A father, and a friend, to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds; 'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonour'd me : 430 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 past.


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Sat. What, madam! be dishonour'd openly,
And basely put it ир

without revenge?
Tam. Not so, my lord ; The gods of Rome fore.

I should be author to dishonour you!

But, on mine honour, dare I undertake
For good lord Titus' innocence in all,
Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs :
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him ;
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.
My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last, Y
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents:
You are but newly planted in your throne ;
Lest then the people, and patricians too,
Upon a just survey, take Titus' part;
And so supplant us for ingratitude
(Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin),
Yield at entreats, and then let me alone :
I'll find a day to massacre them all,

[ Aside.
And raze their faction, and their family,
The cruel father, and his traiterous sons,
To whom I sued for my dear son's life ;
And make them know, what 'tis to let a

Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in

Come, come, sweet emperor,-come, Andronicus,--

up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. 463



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