The Tomb of the ANDRONICI
appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side,
SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his
Followers; with drum and colours
Noble patricians,
patrons of my right,
Defend the justice
of my cause with arms,
And, countrymen, my loving
followers,
Plead my successive title with your
swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my
father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this
indignity.
Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right,
If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son,
Were
gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to
the Capitol
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice,
continence and nobility;
But let desert in pure election
shine,
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your
choice.
Enter MARCUS
ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown
Princes, that strive
by factions and by friends
Ambitiously for
rule and empery,
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we
stand
A special party, have, by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus,
surnamed Pius
For many good and great deserts to
Rome:
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives
not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accit'd home
From weary wars
against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to
our foes,
Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent since first he
undertook
This cause of Rome and chastised with
arms
Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome,
bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;
And now at last, laden with horror's spoils,
Returns
the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in
arms.
Let us entreat, by honour of his name,
Whom worthily you would have now succeed.
And
in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,
That you
withdraw you and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers
and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and
humbleness.
How fair the tribune
speaks to calm my thoughts!
Marcus Andronicus, so
I do ally
In thy uprightness and
integrity,
And so I love and honour
thee and thine,
Thy noble
brother Titus and his sons,
And her to whom my thoughts are
humbled all,
Gracious Lavinia,
Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving
friends,
And to my fortunes and the people's favor
Commit my cause in balance to be
weigh'd.
Exeunt the followers
of BASSIANUS
Friends, that have been thus
forward in my right,
I
thank you all and here dismiss you all,
And to the love and favor of my country
Commit
myself, my person and the cause.
Exeunt the followers
of SATURNINUS
As I am confident and kind to thee.
Open the gates, and
let me in.
Tribunes, and me, a
poor competitor.
Flourish. SATURNINUS
and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol
Enter a
Captain
Romans, make
way: the good Andronicus.
Patron of virtue,
Successful in the
battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is return'd
From where he
circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of
Drums and trumpets
sounded. Enter MARTIUS and MUTIUS; After them, two Men
bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After them, TITUS
ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other
Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the
coffin, and TITUS speaks
Hail,
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught,
Returns with precious jading to the bay
From whence at first she
weigh'd her anchorage,
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To
re-salute his country with his tears,
Tears of true joy for
his return to Rome.
Thou great defender of this Capitol,
Stand gracious to the rites
that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poor
remains, alive and dead!
These that survive let
These that I bring unto their latest
home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword.
Titus, unkind
and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful
Make way to lay them by their
brethren.
The tomb is
opened
There greet in silence, as the
dead are wont,
And sleep
in peace, slain in your country's wars!
O sacred receptacle of my
joys,
Sweet cell of virtue
and nobility,
How many sons of mine hast thou in
store,
That thou wilt never render to me
more!
Give us the proudest
prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew
his limbs, and on a pile
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthy prison of
their bones;
That so the shadows be not
unappeased,
Nor we disturb'd with
prodigies on earth.
I give him you, the noblest that
survives,
The eldest son
of this distressed queen.
Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious
conqueror,
Victorious
Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion for
her son:
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
O, think my son to be as dear to me!
Sufficeth not that we are brought to
To
beautify thy triumphs and return,
Captive to thee and to thy
Roman yoke,
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
For valiant doings in their
country's cause?
O, if to fight for king and
commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy
tomb with blood:
Wilt
thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being
merciful:
Sweet mercy is
nobility's true badge:
Thrice noble Titus, spare my
first-born son.
Patient yourself,
madam, and pardon me.
These are their
brethren, whom you Goths beheld
Alive and dead, and for their
brethren slain
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
To this your son is mark'd, and die he must,
To
appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
Away with him! and make a fire straight;
And
with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbs
till they be clean consumed.
Exeunt LUCIUS,
QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS