Patricians and plebeians, we create [A long flourish. Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; To him that, for your honour and your state, [To Tamora. Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia.-Romans, let us go: [Flourish. Saturninus courts Tamora in dumb show. Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, sir! are you in earnest, then, my lord? To do myself this reason and this right. Marc. Suum cuique is our Roman justice: This prince in justice seizeth but his own. Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. Tit. Traitors, avaunt!-Where is the emperor's guard?— Treason, my lord,-Lavinia is surpris'd! Sat. Surpris'd! by whom? By him that justly may Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. [Exeunt Bassianus and Marcus with Lavinia. Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. Mut. My lord, you pass not here. Tit. Barr'st me my way in Rome? Mut. [Stabbing Mutius. What, villain boy! Help, Lucius, help! [Dies. Re-enter LUCIUS. Luc. My lord, you are unjust; and, more than so, In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine; My sons would never so dishonour me: 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, (13) Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Was none in Rome to make a stale,(14) Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine, [Exit. Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are these? Sat. But go thy ways; go, 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 sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart. Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths,— Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? Sith priest and holy water are so near, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espous'd my bride along with me. Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon.-Lords, accom pany Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquerèd: There shall we cónsummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt Saturninus attended, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and Goths. Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride:Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonour'd thus, and challengèd of wrongs? Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS. Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine,— 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 :- Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors Quin. Mart. And shall, or him we will accompany. 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; So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. Mart. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. Quin, Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. [Marcus and the Sons of Titus kneel, Marc. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,— Tit. [Mutius is put into the tomb. Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. All. [kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.(16) Marc. My lord,-to step out of these dreary(17) dumps,— 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,- That brought her for this high good turn so far? Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and AARON; from the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and 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. |