Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prifoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my Father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Goth. And ours with thine, befal what Fortune will. Luc. Good Uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous Tiger, this accurfed Devil, Let him receive no Suftenance, fetter him, 'Till he be brought unto the Emperor's Face, For Teftimony of thefe foul proceedings, And fee the Ambush of our Friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some Devil whifper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tongue may utter forth
The venemous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc.A way, inhuman Dog, unl allowed Slave,
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in.
The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.
Sat. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What borts it thee to call thy felf a Sun? Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, Thefe Quarrels must be quietly Debated:
The Featt is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honourable end,
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome:
Pleafe you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
[Hautboys. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the Meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a Veil over her Face. Titus. Welcome, my gracious Lord, Welcome, Dread Queen,
Welcome, ye Warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor,
'Twill fill your Stomachs, please you eat of it.
Sa. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus?
Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well,
To entertain your Highness, and your Empress.
Tam. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.
Tit. And if your Highnefs knew my Heart, you were;
My Lord, the Emperor, refolve me this?
Sirs, ftop their Mouths, let them not speak to me,
But let them hear what fearful Words I utter.
Oh Villains, Chiron and Demetrius !
Here ftands the Spring whom you have ftain'd with Mid,
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixt:
You kill'd her Husband, and for that vile Fault,
Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to Death,
My Hand cut off, and made a merry jeft,
Both her fweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more dear
Than Hands or Tongue, her fpotless Chastity,
Inhuman Traitors, you conftrain'd and forc'd.
What would you fay if I fhould let you speak?
Villains! -for fhame you could not beg for Grace.
Hark, Wretches, how I mean to Martyr you,
This one Hand yet is left to cut your Throats,
Whilst that Lavinia 'twixt her Stumps doth hold
The Bason that receives your guilty Blood.
You know your Mother means to feaft with me,
And calls her felf Revenge, and thinks me mad-
Hark, Villains, I will grind your Bones to Duft,
And with your Blood and it, I'll make a Paste,
And of the Pafte a Coffin will I rear,
And make two Pafties of your fhameful Heads,'
And bid that Strumpet, your unhallowed Dam,
Like to the Earth, fwallow her own Increase.
This is the Feaft that I have bid her to,
And this the Banquet the fhall furfeit 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,
He cuts their Throats, and Lavinia receives the
Blood in a Bafon.
Receive the Blood, and when that they are dead
Let me go grind their Bones to Powder fmall,
And with this hateful Liquor temper it;
And in that Pafte let their wild Heads be bak'd.
Come, come, be every one officious
To make this Banquet, which I wish might prove
More ftern and bloody than the Centaurs Feaft.
So, now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook,
And fee them ready 'gainst the Mother comes.
Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prifoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my Father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Goth. And ours with thine, befal what Fortune will. Luc. Good Uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous Tiger, this accurfed Devil, Let him receive no Suftenance, fetter him, Fill he be brought unto the Emperor's Face, For Teftimony of these foul proceedings, And fee the Ambush of our Friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some Devil whisper Curfes in my Ear,
And prompt me, that my Tongue may utter forth
The venemous Malice of my fwelling Heart.
Luc.Away, inhuman Dog, unhallowed Slave,
Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in.
The Trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others.
Sat. What, hath the Firmament more Suns than one? Luc. What boots it thee to call thy felf a Sun ? Mar. Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, Thefe Quarrels must be quietly Debated:
The Feaft is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordained to an honourable end,
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome :
Please therefore draw nigh and take your places.
[Hautboys. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the Meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a Veil over her Face. Titus. Welcome, my gracious Lord, Welcome, Dread Queen,
Welcome, ye Warlike Goths, welcome Lucius, And welcome all; although the Cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your Stomachs, pleafe you eat of it.
Sa. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well, To entertain your Highness, and your Emprefs. Tam. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. Tit. And if your Highnefs knew my Heart, you were; My Lord, the Emperor, refolve me this?
Was it well done of rafh Virginius,
To flay his Daughter with his own Right-Hand,
Because she was enforc'd, ftain'd, and deflour'd?
Sat. It was, Andronicus.
Tit. Your Reason, mighty Lord?
Sat. Because the Girl fhould not furvive her Shame,
And by her Prefence ftill renew his Sorrows.
Tit. A Reafon mighty, ftrong, and effectual,
A Pattern, Prefident and lively Warrant,
For me, moft 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 haft thou done, unnatural and unkind?
Tit. Kill'd her for whom my Tears have made me blind.
I am as woful as Virginius was,
And have a thousand times more Caufe than hé.
Sat. What, was the ravish'd? tell, who did the Deed?
Tit. Will't please you eat,
Will't please your Highness feed?
Tam. Why haft thou flain 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 prefently.
Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pye,
Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the Flesh that the her felf hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true, witness my Knife's fharp Point.
[He ftabs the Empress.
Sat. Die, frantick Wretch, for this accurfed Deed.
[He ftabs Titus.
Luc. Can the Son's Eyes behold his Father bleed ?
There's meed for meed, Death for a deadly Deed.
[Lucius ftabs the Emperor.
Mar. You fad-fac'd Men, People and Sons of Rome,
By uprore fever'd, like a flight of Fowl,
Scatter'd by Winds and high tempeftuous Gufts,
Oh let me teach you, how to knit again
This fcatter'd Corn into one mutual Sheaf,
The broken Limbs again into one Body.
Goth. Let Rame her felf be bane unto her fel,
And the whom mighty Kingdoms curtfie to,
Like a forlorn and defperate Caft-away,
Do fhameful Execution on her felf.
Mar. But if my frofty figns and chaps of Age,
Grave Witneffes of true Experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my Words,
Speak, Rome's dear Friend; as erft our Anceftor, [To Lucius. When with his folemn Tongue he did difcourfe
To Love-fick Dido's fad attending Ear,
The Story of that baleful burning Night,
When fubtile Greeks furpriz'd King Priam's Troy:
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our Ears,
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 moft,
Lending your kind Hand, Commiferation.
Here is a Captain, let him tell the Tale,
Your Hearts will throb and weep to hear him fpeak.
Luc. This Noble Auditory, be it known to you,
That curfed Chiron and Demetrius,
Were they that Murdered our Emperor's Brother;
And they it were that ravifhed our Sifter:
For their fell faults our Brothers were Beheaded,
Our Father's Tears defpis'd, and bafely cozen'd
Of that true Hand, that fought Rome's Quarrel out,
And fent her Enemies into the Grave.
Laftly, my felf unkindly Banifhed,
The Gates fhut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's Enemies,
Who drown'd their enmity in my true Tears,
And op'd their Arms to embrace me as a Friend:
And I am turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preferv'd her welfare in my Blood,
And from her Bofom took the Enemy's point,
Sheathing the Steel in my adventrous Body.
Alas, you know I am no Vaunter, I,
My Scars can witnefs, dumb although they are,
That my Report is juft, and full of Truth :
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