Bear his betrothed from all the world away.

[Exeunt Marcus and Bassianus, 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.

Lucius. 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 dishonor me.

Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.

Lucius. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promised love.

[Exit.

"Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, "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, "Confederates all thus to dishonor me.

"Was there none else in Rome to make a stale,1 "But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,

Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine,

A stalking-horse.

< That said'st, I begg'd the empire at thy hands. "Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are these!

Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece

To him that florish'd for her with his sword.

A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;

One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,

To ruffle 1 in the commonwealth of Rome.

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart.

Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of

Goths,―

2

That, like the stately Phoebe ? 'mongst her nymphs,
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome,-

If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride,
And will create thee emperess of Rome.

Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?

And here I swear by all the Roman gods,—

Sith 3 priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing
In readiness for Hymeneus stand,-

I will not resalute the streets of Rome,

Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
I lead espoused my bride along with me.

1 A ruffler was a bully
3 Since.

2 Diana.

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, accompany

Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride,
Sent by the Heavens for prince Saturnine,
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered :
There shall we consummate our spousal rites.

[Exeunt Saturninus and his followers, Tamora and her Sons, Aaron and Goths. Tit. I am not bid 1 to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonor'd thus, and challenged of wrongs?

Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS. Mar. O, Titus, see, O, see, what thou hast done! In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.

Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine ;Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonor'd all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons!

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

Tit. Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb. This monument five hundred years hath stood,

1 Invited.

Which I have sumptuously re-edified.

Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors
Repose in fame; none basely slain 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.

Quin. Mar. And shall, or him we will accompany. Tit. And shall? What villain was it spoke that word?

Quin. He that would vouch 't in any place but

here.

Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite ? Mar. No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest,

And, with these boys, mine honor thou hast wounded:

My foes I do repute you every one;

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

Mar. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.

[Marcus and the sons of Titus 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 rest will

speed.

Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my

soul,

Lucius. Dear father, soul and substance of us

all,

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest,
That died in honor and Lavinia's cause.
Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous :
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax,
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son
Did graciously plead for his funerals.

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

Tit.
Rise, Marcus, rise.
The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw,
To be dishonor'd by my sons in Rome!—
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

[Mutius is put into the tomb. Lucius. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends,

Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb!

All. No man shed tears for noble Mutius He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.

:

Mar. My lord,—to step out of these dreary dumps,—

How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is;
Whether by device or no, the Heavens can tell.
Is she not then beholden to the man