Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on 't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt, -Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm: But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewell. [Clown sets down the basket. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.

Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people: for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm.

Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.

Cleo. Will it cat me?

Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.

Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell. Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm. [Exit.

Re-enter Iras, with a robe, crown, &c. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip :Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.-Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men, To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come: Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.-So,-have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. Iras falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world

It is not worth leave-taking.

If she first meet the curled Antony,
He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss
Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal
wretch,

[To the asp, which she applies to her breast.
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,
Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak!
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass
Unpolicied! Char. O eastern star!

Cleo.

Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?

Char.
O, break! O, break!
Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,-
O Antony !-Nay, I will take thee too:-
Applying another asp to her arm.
What should I stay- [Falls on a bed, and dies
Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well.-
Now boast thee, Death! in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel'd.-Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld'
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown 's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard. Where is the queen?
Char.

I Guard. Cæsar hath sent-
Char.

Speak softly, wake her not.
Too slow a messenger.
[Applies the asp.

o, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee.
1 Guard. Approach, ho! All 's not well: Cæsar 's
beguil'd.
2 Guard. There 's Dolabella sent from Cæsar:-
call him.

1 Guard. What work is here?-Charmian, is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier!

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it here? Dol.

[Dies.

2 Guard. All dead. Cæsar, thy thoughts

Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming
To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou
So sought'st to hinder.
Within.

A way there, a way for Caesar!
Enter Cæsar and Attendants.
Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer
Cas.
That you did fear is done.
She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal,
Bravest at the last;
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths!
I do not see them bleed.

Dol.

Who was last with them! This was his basket. I Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her [figs. Poison'd then.

Cas.

I Guard.
O Cæsar,
This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood, and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropp'd.

Cas.

O noble weakness!

If they had swallow'd poison 't would appear
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.

Dol.

Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: The like is on her arm.

1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these fig leaves

Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile.

Cæs.

Most probable

That so she died; for her physician tells me
She hath pursued conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die.-Take up her bed;

The gods themselves do weep!

No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity than his glory, which

Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.-Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great soleminity.

[Exeunt.

[nus. Lucius.

Roman.

tribune.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Rome.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators, aloft: and then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one door, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with drum and colours.

Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms; And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords: I am his first-born son, that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome: Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.

[right,

Bass. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
Th' imperial seat; to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter Marcus Andronicus, aloft, with the crown.
Marc. Princes, that strive by factions and by
Ambitiously for rule and empery,
[friends
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
A special party, have by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius,

For many good and great deserts to Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls.
He by the senate is accited home,
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That with his sons, a terror to our foes,

Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat,-by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,-
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,"
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
Bass, Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy [thoughts.

LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.

A Nurse, and a black Child.

Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants.

In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends;
And to my fortunes and the people's favour
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

[Exeunt Followers of Bassianus.
Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all; [right,
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.
[Exeunt Followers of Saturninus.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.
Open the gates and let me in.
Bass. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.
[Flourish. They go up into the Senate-house.
SCENE II.-The same.

Enter a Captain, and others.

Cap. Romans, make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. [Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter two of Titus' Sons. After them two Men bearing a coffin covered with black: then two other Sons. After them Titus Andronicus; and then Tamora, the queen of Goths, and her two Sons, Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moor, and others, as many as can be. They set down the coffin, and Titus speaks.

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!

Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!
Romans, of five-and-twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead!
These that survive let Rome reward with love:
These that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors.
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, [sword.
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,

To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?
Make way to lay them by their brethren.

[They open the tomb.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars:
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more!

Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum, sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.
Tit. I give him you, the noblest that survives,
The eldest son of this distressed queen.
Tam. Stay, Roman brethren, gracious conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O think my son to be as dear to me.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautify thy triumphs, and return
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
O, if to fight for king and commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood.
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me.
These are the brethren, whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:

To this your son is mark'd, and die he must,
Tappease their groaning shadows that are gone.
Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight;
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd.
[Exeunt Titus' Sons with Alarbus.

Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
Demet. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threat'ning look.
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-same gods that arm'd the queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,)
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.

Enter the Sons of Andronicus again. Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And with loud Tarums welcome them to Rome. Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Flourish. Sound trumpets, and they lay the coffin in the tomb.

[rest,

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps:
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons.
Enter Lavinia.

Lav. In peace and honour live lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
I render for my brethren's obsequies:
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy
Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome.
O bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud.
Tit. Kind Rome, thou hast thus lovingly reserv'd

The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days,
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise.
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Saturninus, Bassianus,
and others.

Marc. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus. Marc. And welcome, nephews, from successful

wars,

You that survive, and you that sleep in fame:
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all,
That in your country's service drew your swords.
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp,
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness,
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been,
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust,
This palliament of white and spotless hue,
And name thee in election for the empire,
With these our late deceased emperor's sons:
Be candidatus then, and put it on,

And help to set a head on headless Rome.
Tit. A better head her glorious body fits,
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness.
What! should I don this robe, and trouble you?
Be chosen with proclamations to-day,
To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life,
And set abroad new business for you all?
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years,
And led my country's strength successfully,
And buried one-and-twenty valiant sons,
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms,
In right and service of their noble country;
Give me a staff of honour for mine age,
But not a sceptre to control the world!
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
Marc. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
Tit. Patience, prince Saturninus.

Sat.

Romans, do me right. Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor: Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, Rather than rob me of the people's hearts. Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee! Tit. Content thee, prince, I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themBass. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, [selves. But honour 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 honourable meed. Tit People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus! I ask your voices and your suffrages; Tribunes. To gratify the good Andronicus, The people will accept whom he admits. And gratulate his safe return to Rome,

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, That you create your emperor's eldest son, Lord Saturnine, whose virtues will, I hope, And ripen justice in this commonweal: Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him, and say, 'Long live our emperor !' Marc. With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians, and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor; And say, 'Long live our emperor, Saturnine!

[A long flourish, till they come down. Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day,

I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness:
And for an onset, Titus, to advance
Thy name, and honourable family,
Lavinia will I make my empress,

Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart,
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:

Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match