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SCENE III.-The Same. Court of Titus'
House. A banquet set out.

Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS and Goths, with AARON prisoner.

Luc. Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind

That I repair to Rome, I am content.

First Goth. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.

Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous
Moor,

This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him,
Till he be brought unto the empress' face,
For testimony of her foul proceedings:

Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd And see the ambush of our friends be strong; with mud,

This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. 172
You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death,
My hand cut off and made a merry jest:
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that
more dear
176

Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd.
What would you say if I should let you speak?
Villains! for shame you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. 181
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold
The basin that receives your guilty blood. 184
You know your mother means to feast with me,
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad.
Hark! villains, I will grind your bones to dust,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste;
And of the paste a coffin I will rear,
189
And make two pasties of your shameful heads;
And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
Like to the earth swallow her own increase. 192
This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter,
And worse than Procne I will be reveng'd. 196
And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come.
[He cuts their throats.
Receive the blood: and when that they are
dead,

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I fear the emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear,
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter
forth

12

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Enter TITUS, dressed like a cook, LAVINIA, veiled, young LUCIUS, and Others. TITUS places the dishes on the table.

Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen;

Welcome, ye war-like Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome, all. Although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. 29

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well To entertain your highness, and your empress. Tam. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. 33

Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,

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And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to,
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,
Do shameful execution on herself.
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
Grave witnesses of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,
[To LUCIUS.] Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst
our ancestor,

80

Sat. Because the girl should not survive her When with his solemn tongue he did discourse shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows.

44

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me most wretched, to perform the like. Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die! [Kills LAVINIA. Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? 48

Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind.

I am as woeful as Virginius was,

And have a thousand times more cause than he
To do this outrage: and it is now done. 52
Sat. What! was she ravish'd? tell who did
the deed.

Tit. Will 't please you eat? will 't please your
highness feed?

Tam. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?

Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius: 56 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 pie;

60

Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp
point.
[Kills TAMORA.
Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed
deed!
[Kills TITUS.
Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father
bleed?
65
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed!
[Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. The
people in confusion disperse. MARCUS,
LUCIUS, and their partisans, go up into
the balcony.

Mar. You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of
Rome,

68

By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts,
O! let me teach you how to knit again
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf,
These broken limbs again into one body;

To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear
The story of that baleful burning night
When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's

Troy;

84

88

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 steel,
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,
But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utterance, even in the time
When it should move you to attend me most, 92
Lending your kind commiseration.
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,

96

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And I am the turn'd forth, be it known to you,
That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood,
And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. 112
Alas! you know I am no vaunter, I;
My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my report is just and full of truth.
But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, 116
Citing my worthless praise: O! pardon me;
For when no friends are by, men praise them-
selves.

Mar. Now is my turn to speak. Behold this
child;

Of this was Tamora delivered,
72 The issue of an irreligious Moor,

120

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Have we done aught amiss, show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us now, The poor remainder of Andronici

Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down,
And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
And make a mutual closure of our house.
Speak, Romans, speak! and if you say we shall,
Lo! hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. 136
Emil. 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 do cry it shall be so.
Romans. Lucius, all hail!

emperor!

140

Rome's royal

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I am no baby, I, that with base prayers
I should repent the evils I have done.
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
Would I perform, if I might have my will: 188
If one good deed in all my life I did,
I do repent it from my very soul.

Luc. Some loving friends convey the em-
peror hence,

And give him burial in his father's grave.
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closed in our household's monument.
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,

192

No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds, 196
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey.
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;
And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 200
See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning:
Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt.

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Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords. Enter TYBALT.

Tyb. What! art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? 72

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.

Tyb. What! drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward!

76

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Enter PRINCE with his Train.

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— 88 Will they not hear? What ho! you men, you beasts,

96

100

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 92
Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.
If ever you disturb our streets again
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 109
[Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MON-
TAGUE, and BENVOLIO.
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new a-
broach?

104

Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary

[They fight. And yours close fighting ere I did approach: 113

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