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, ac-
company

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 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

That brought her for this high good turn so far?
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.

Florish.

Re-enter, at one side, SATURNINUS, attended; TAMORA, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, and aaron: at the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others.

Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize! 1 God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.

Bas. And you of yours, my lord: I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law or we have

power,

Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seise my own, My true-betrothed love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all: Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us; But, if we live, we 'll be as sharp with you.

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I
Answer I must, and shall do with my life.
Only thus much I give your grace to know :-
By all the duties that I owe to Rome,
This noble gentleman, lord Titus here,
Is in opinion and in honor wrong'd;
That, in the rescue of Lavinia,

With his own hand did slay his youngest son,
In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath

may,

A technical term in the ancient fencing-school.

To be control'd in that he frankly gave.
Receive him then to favor, Saturnine;
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds,
A father and a friend to thee and Rome.

Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds: "Tis thou, and those, that have dishonor'd me. Rome and the righteous Heavens be my judge, How I have loved and honor'd Saturnine!

Tam. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then hear me speak indifferently for all;
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
Sat. What! madam! be dishonor'd openly,

And basely put it up without revenge?

Tam. Not so, my lord: the gods of Rome forefend,1

I should be author to dishonor you!

But, on mine honor, dare I undertake
For good lord Titus' innocence in all,

Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs.
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him;
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose,
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.—
My lord, be ruled by me; be won at last;
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents.
You are but newly planted in your throne.
Lest then the people and patricians too,
Upon a just survey, take Titus' part,

1 Forbid.