Baf. Lord Titus, by your leave this maid is mine.

[Seizing Lavinia. Tit. How, Sir? are you in earneft then, my Lord? Baf. Ay, noble Titus; and refolv'd withal,

To do my felf this reafon and this right.

[The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb fhew.

Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman juftice:

This prince in juftice feizeth but his own.

Luc. And that he will, and fhall, if Lucius live. Tit. Traitors, avant! where is the Emperor's guard? Treafon, my Lord; Lavinia is furpriz'd.

Sat. Surpriz'd! by whom?

Baf. By him that justly may

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away.

[Exit Baffianus with Lavinia,

IV.

SCENE

Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away,

And with my fword I'll keep this door fecure.

Tit. Follow, my Lord, and I'll foon bring her back. Mut. My Lord, you pass not here.

Tit. What! villain-boy,

Barr'ft me my way in Rome?

Mut. Help, Lucius, help.

[He kills him.

Luc. My Lord, you are unjuft, and more than fo,

In wrongful quarrel you have flain your fon.

Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any fons of mine.

My fons would never fo difhonour me.

Traitor, reftore Lavinia to the Emperor.

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,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy ftock;
I'll truft by leifure him that mocks me once,
Thee never, nor thy traiterous haughty fons,
Confederates all, thus to difhonour me.

Was there none else in Rome to make a ftale of
But Saturnine? full well, Andronicus,

Agree

Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,
That faid'ft, I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

Tit. O monftrous! what reproachful words are these? Sat. But go thy ways; go give that changing piece, To him that flourish'd for her with his fword; A valiant fon-in-law thou fhalt enjoy:

One fit to bandy with thy lawless fons,

To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome:

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.
Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora Queen of Goths,
That, like the ftately Phabe 'mong her nymphs,
Doft over-fhine the gallant'ft dames of Rome,
If thou be pleas'd with this my fudden choice,
Behold I chufe thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee Emperefs of Rome.

Speak, Queen of Goths, doft thou applaud my choice?
And here I fwear by all the Roman Gods,
(Sith priest and holy water are fo near,
And tapers burn fo bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymenæus ftands,)

I will not re-falute the ftreets of Rome,

Or climb my palace, 'till from forth this place

I lead efpous'd my bride along with me.

Tam. And here in fight of heav'n to Rome I fwear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,

She will a handmaid be to his defires,

A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.

Sat. Afcend, fair Queen, Pantheon; Lords, accompany Your noble Emperor, and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered : There shall we confummate our fpoufal rites.

SCENE

Manet Titus Andronicus.

Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone,

V.

[Exeunt.

Dishonour'd

Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

Enter Marcus Andronicus, Lucius, Quintus, and
Marcus.

Mar. Oh, Titus, fee, oh, fee what thou haft done!
In a bad quarrel flain a virtuous fon.

Tit. No, foolifh Tribune, no, no son of mine,
Nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed,
That hath difhonour'd all our family;
Unworthy brother, and unworthy fons!

Luc. But let us give him burial as becomes,
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.

Tit. Traitors, away! he refts not in this tomb;
This monument five hundred years hath flood,
Which I have fumptuously re-edified:

Here none but foldiers, and Rome's fervitors
Repose in fame: none bafely flain 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,
He must be buried with his brethren.

Sons. And fhall, or him we will accompany.
Tit. And fhall? what villain was it fpake that word?
Quin. He that would vouch't in any place but here.
Tit. What, would you bury him in my defpight?
Mar. No, noble Titus, but intreat of thee,
To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, ev'n thou haft ftruck upon my creft,
And with these boys mine honour thou haft wounded.
My foes I do repute you every one,

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

Luc. He is not well himself, let us withdraw.
Quin. Not I, 'till Mutius' bones be buried.

[The brother and the fons 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 reft will speed.

Mar.

Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my foul!
Luc. Dear father, foul and fubftance of us all!
Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interr
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
That died in honour, and Lavinia's caufe.
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous.
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
That flew himself; and wife Laertes' fon
Did graciously plead for his funerals.

Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be barr'd his entrance here.

Tit. Rife, Marcus, rife

The difmall'ft day is this that e'er I faw,
To be dishonour'd by my fons in Rome:
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

[They put him in the tomb. Luc. There lye thy bones, fweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!

[They all kneel, and fay.

No man fhed tears for noble Mutius!

He lives in fame, that died in virtue's caufe.

Mar. My Lord, to ftep out of thefe dreary dumps, How comes it that the fubtle Queen of Goths

Is of a fudden thus advanc'd in Rome?

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but I know it is:

If by device or no, the heav'ns can tell :

Is the not then beholden to the man,

That brought her for this high good turn fo far?

S

CEN E VI.

Flourish. Enter the Emperor, Tamora, Chiron, and De-
metrius, with the Moor at one door. At the other door
Baffianus and Lavinia with others.

Sat. So, Baffianus, you have plaid your prize;
God give you joy, Sir, of your gallant bride!

Baf. And you of yours, my Lord; I fay no more,

Nor with no lefs, and fo I take my leave.

VOL. V.

Cc

Sat.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,
Thou and thy faction fhall repent this rape.

Baf. Rape call you it, my Lord, to feize my own,
My true betrothed love, and now my wife?
But let the laws of Rome determine all,
Mean while I am poffeft of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, Sir; you are very fhort with us,
But if we live, we'll be as fharp with you.

Baf. My Lord, what I have done, as best I may,
Anfwer I muft, and fhall 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,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd,
That in the refcue of Lavinia,

With his own hand did flay his youngest fon,
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath,
To be controul'd in that he frankly gave;
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine,
That hath expreft himself in all his deeds
A father and a friend to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince Baffianus, leave to plead my deeds.
'Tis thou, and thofe, that have dishonour'd me:
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 thofe princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me fpeak, indifferently, for all;
And at my fuit (fweet) pardon what is past.
Sat. What, Madam, be difhonour'd openly,
And bafely put it up without revenge?

Tam. Not fo, my Lord; the Gods of Rome fore-fend, I fhould be author to difhonour you:

But, on mine honour dare I undertake
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all;
Whofe fury not diffembled fpeaks his griefs:
Then at my fuit look graciously on him,
Lofe not fo noble a friend on vain suppose,

Nor