Part 2

Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of Vertue, Romes best Champion, Successefull in the Battailes that he fights, With Honour and with Fortune is return'd, From whence he circumscribed with his Sword, And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other Sonnes. After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queene of Gothes, & her two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as many as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus speakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome: Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes: Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught, Returnes with precious lading to the Bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her Anchorage: Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes, To resalute his Country with his teares, Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome, Thou great defender of this Capitoll, Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend. Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Halfe of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead! These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue: These that I bring vnto their latest home, With buriall amongst their Auncestors. Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword: Titus vnkinde, and carelesse of thine owne, Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet, To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix? Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.

There greete in silence as the dead are wont, And sleepe in peace, slaine in your Countries warres: O sacred receptacle of my ioyes, Sweet Cell of vertue and Nobilitie, How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt neuer render to me more? Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes, That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh: Before this earthly prison of their bones, That so the shadowes be not vnappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth

Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues, The eldest Son of this distressed Queene

Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed, A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne: And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee, Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake, But must my Sonnes be slaughtred in the streetes, For Valiant doings in their Countries cause? O! If to fight for King and Common-weale, Were piety in thine, it is in these: Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood. Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods? Draw neere them then in being mercifull. Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge, Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne

Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me. These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine, Religiously they aske a sacrifice: To this your sonne is markt, and die he must, T' appease their groaning shadowes that are gone

Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.

Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety

Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous? Dem. Oppose me Scythia to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue, To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes. Then Madam stand resolu'd, but hope withall, The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent, May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes, (When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene) To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes. Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt, And intrals feede the sacrifising fire, Whole smoke like incense doth perfume the skie. Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren, And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their Soules.

Flourish.

Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.

In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes, Romes readiest Champions, repose you heere in rest, Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps: Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie swels, Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no stormes, No noyse, but silence and Eternall sleepe, In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes. Enter Lauinia.

Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long, My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame: Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares, I render for my Bretherens Obsequies: And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome. O blesse me heere with thy victorious hand, Whose Fortune Romes best Citizens applau'd

Ti. Kind Rome, That hast thus louingly reseru'd The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart, Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes: And Fames eternall date for vertues praise

Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother, Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome

Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune, Noble brother Marcus

Mar. And welcome Nephews from succesfull wars, You that suruiue and you that sleepe in Fame: Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all, That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords. But safer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe, That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines, And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in iustice thou hast euer bene, Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust, This Palliament of white and spotlesse Hue, And name thee in Election for the Empire, With these our late deceased Emperours Sonnes: Be Candidatus then, and put it on, And helpe to set a head on headlesse Rome

Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits, Then his that shakes for age and feeblenesse: What should I don this Robe and trouble you, Be chosen with proclamations to day, To morrow yeeld vp rule, resigne my life, And set abroad new businesse for you all. Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares, And led my Countries strength successefully, And buried one and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Knighted in Field, slaine manfully in Armes, In right and Seruice of their Noble Countrie: Giue me a staffe of Honour for mine age, But not a Scepter to controule the world, Vpright he held it Lords, that held it last

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtaine and aske the Emperie

Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune can'st thou tell? Titus. Patience Prince Saturninus

Sat. Romaines do me right. Patricians draw your Swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Romes Emperour: Andronicus would thou wert shipt to hell, Rather then rob me of the peoples harts

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That Noble minded Titus meanes to thee