Receive the blood; and when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that pafte let their vile 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.
[He cuts their throat3. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And fee them ready 'gainst their mother comes. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner. Luc. Good 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 Mcor,
This ravenous tiger, this accurfed devil,
Let him receive no fuftenance, fetter him,
'Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror'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 whisper curfes in my ear,
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth
The venomous malice of my fwelling heart!
Luc. Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd flave!
[Exeunt Goths with Aaron.
[Flourish.
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
The trumpets fhew the Emperor is at hand.
Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tri
Sat, What, hath the firmament more funs than one?
Luc. What boots it thee to call thy self a fun?
Mar. Rome's Emperor, and, nephew, break your parley;
Thefe quarrels must be quietly debated:
The feaft is ready, which the careful Titus
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome:
Pleafe you therefore draw nigh and take your places.
Sat. Marcus, we will,
A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the
meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a veil over her face.
Tit. Welcome, my gracious Lord, welcome, dread Queen,
Welcome, ye warlike Goths, thou Lucius, welcome,
And welcome all; although the cheer be poor,
"Twill fill your ftomachs, please you eat of it.
Sat. 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 beholden to you, good Andronicus.
Tit. An if your Highness 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?
Andronicus.
Tit. Your reafon, mighty Lord ?
Sat. Because the girl fhould not furvive her shame, And by her prefence still renew his forrows. Tit. A reafon mighty, ftrong, effectual, A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, moft wretched, to perform the like: Die, die, Lavinia, and thy fhame with thee, And with thy fhame thy father's forrow die! [He kills ber. 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 cause than he
To do this outrage. And it is now done.
Sat. What, was fhe ravish'd? tell, who did the deed?
Tit. Will't please you eat, will't please your Highness feed?
Tam. Why halt 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 presently.
Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pye,
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she 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!
Luc. Can the fon's eye 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 fons of Rome, By uprore fever'd, like a flight of fowl Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gufts, Oh let me teach you how to knit again This fcatter'd corn into one mutual fheaf, Thefe broken limbs again into one body. Goth. Let Rome her felf be bane unto her felf, And the whom mighty kingdoms curtfie to, Like a forlorn and defperate caft-away,
Do fhameful execution on her self.
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 ancestor, [To Lucius. When with his folemn tongue he did discourse
To love-fick Dido's fad attending ear,
The ftory of that baleful burning night,
When fubtle 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 fteel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utt'rance; even in the time
When it fhould move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind commiferation.
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale,
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,
That curfed Chiron and Demetrius
Were they that murdered our Emperor's brother;
And they they were that ravifhed our fifter:
VOL. VIII.
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 banished,
(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 t' 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 fteel in my advent'rous body.
Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I;
My fcars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my report is juft, and full of truth.
But foft, methinks I do digrefs too much,
Citing my worthlefs praife: oh pardon me,
For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Mar. Now is my tongue to speak: behold this child,
Of this was Tamora delivered,
The iffue of an irreligious Moor,
Chief architect and plotter of thefe woes ;
The villain is alive in Titus' house,
Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true.
Now judge what caufe had Titus to revenge
Thefe wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
Or more than any living man could bear.
Now you have heard the truth, what fay you, Romans ?
Have we done aught amifs? fhew us wherein,
And from the place where you behold us now,
The poor remainder of Andronicus,
We'll hand in hand all head-long cast us down,
And on the ragged ftones beat out our brains,
And make a mutual closure of our houfe:
Speak, Romans, fpeak, and if you fay we shall,
Lo hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
Em. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand,
Lucius our Emperor: for well I know,
The common voice doth cry it shall be fo.
Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor!
Go, go into old Titus' forrowful house,
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,
To be adjudg'd fome direful flaughtering death,
As punishment for his most wicked life.
Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious Governor!
Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern fo,
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe!
But, gentle people, give me aim a while,
For nature puts me to a heavy task:
Stand all aloof; but, uncle, draw you near,
To fhed obfequious tears upon this trunk :
Oh take this warm kifs on thy pale cold lips,
Thefe forrowful drops upon thy blood-ftain'd face
The laft true duties of thy noble son.
Mar. Ay, tear for tear, and loving kifs for kifs,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips :
O were the fum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I
Luc. Come hither, boy, come, come, and learn of us
To melt in showers; thy grandfire lov'd thee well;
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee
Sung thee afleep, his loving breaft thy pillow:
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
Meet and agreeing with thy infancy;
In that refpect then, like a loving child,
Shed yet fome small drops from thy tender spring,
Because kind nature doth require it fo;
Friends fhould affociate friends, in grief and woe:
Bid him farewel, commit him to the grave,
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.
Boy. O grandfire, grandfire! ev'n with all my heart,
Would I were dead, fo you did live again
O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping-
My tears will choak me, if I ope my mouth.
SCENE VII. Enter Romans with Aaron.
Rom. You fad Andronici, have done with woes,
Give fentence on this execrable wretch,
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