These are their 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,
To appease 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 LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and
MUTIUS, with ALARBUS.

Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!

Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive

To tremble under Titus' threatening 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.

Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with their Swords bloody.

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have per-
form'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 larums welcome them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded, and the Coffins laid in the
Tomb.

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
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:

Enter LAVINIA.

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
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 joys
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, that hast thus lovingly re-
serv'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! 7

Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, SATURNINUS, BAS-
SIANUS, and Others.

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

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar

cus.

Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful

wars,

You that survive, and you that sleep in fame.

7 He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praise longer than 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 aspir'd to Solon's happiness, 8
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 9 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 don1 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 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 scepter to control the world:
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the em

8 The maxim alluded to is, that no man can be pronounced happy before his death.

9 A robe.

1 i. e. Do on, put it on...

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 themselves.

Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee,
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, I ask your voices, and your suffrages;

Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
Trib. To gratify the good Andronicus,

And gratulate his safe return to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

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,
Reflect on Rome, as Titan's 2 rays on earth,
And ripen justice in this common-weal:
Then if you will elect by my advice,
Crown him, and say,-Long live our emperor !
Mar. 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.
Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done
To us in our election this day,

2 The sun.

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 emperess,

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, I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and commander of our common-weal, The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners; Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts, Rome shall record; and, when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me.

Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an em

peror; [TO TAMORA. To him, that for your honour 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 com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome:
Princely shall be thy usage every way.

Rest on my word, and let not discontent

Daunt all your hopes: Madam, he comforts you,