Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accurfed deed. [He fubs Titus. 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-faced men, people and fons of Rome, By uproar fevered, like a flight of fowl Scattered by winds and high tempestuous gufts, Oh, let me teach you how to knit again This fcattered corn into one mutual theaf,. Thefe broken limbs again into one body. Goth. Let Rome herself be bane unto herself; And fhe, whom mighty kingdoms curtly to, Like a forlorn and defperate caft-away, Do fhameful execution on herself.

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 erst our ancestor,
[To Lucius.
When with his folemn tongue he did discourse
To love-fick Dido's fad attending ear,
The story of that baleful burning night,

When fubtle Greeks furprised King Priam's Troy:
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitched our ears,
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Roine, 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 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 fpeak. Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,

That curfed Chiron and Demetrius

Were they that murdered our Emperor's brother;
And they it were that ravished our fifter:

For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded,
Our father's tears defpifed, and bafely cozened
Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out,
And fent her enemies into the grave.
Laftly, myfelf unkindly banifhed,

The gates fhut on me, and turned weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies;

Who drowned their enmity in my true tears,
And op'd their arms t' embrace me as a friend:
And I am turned forth, be it known to you,
That have preferved her welfare in my blood,
And from her bofom took the enemy's point,
Sheathing the fteel in my advent'rous bedy.
Alas! -you know I am no vaunter, I;
My fears can witnefs, 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 praife themselves.
Mar. Now is my tongue to speak: behold this

Of this was Tamora delivered;

The iffue of an irreligious Mcor,

Chief architect and plotter of these woes;
The villain is alive in Titus's houfe, (27)

(27) The villain is alive in Titus's house,

[child,

And as he is, to witness this is true.] The villain alive, and as he is, furely, can never be right. The manufcript must have been obfcure and blindly writ, fo that the firft editors could not make out the word which I have ventured to reftore. The epithet I have replaced, admirably forts with the Moor's character; and Lucius ufes it again, fpeaking of him at the conclufion of the play;

See juftice done on Aaron, that damned Moor. Befides, damned as he is--is a mode of expreflion familiar with our Author.

Damned as he is, to witnefs this is true.

Now judge what caufe had Titus to revenge
Thefe wrongs, unfpeakable, paft patience,

Or more than any living man could bear. [mans?
Now you have heard the truth, what fay you, Ro-
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 headlong caft 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 fhall,
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 do cry, it thall be fo.

Mar. Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor ! Go, go, into old Titus' forrowful house, And hither hale that mifbelieving Moor, To be adjudged fome direful flaughtering death, As punishment for his moft 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:

So, in Othello;

O thou foul thief! where haft thou ftowed my daughter?
Damned as thou art thou haft enchanted her.

And the fame fashion of expreffing himself he likewise uses in beftowing praife.

2 Henry VI.

But noble as he is, look where he comes.

Oh, take this warm kifs on thy pale cold lips,
Thefe forrowful drops on thy blood-ftained face;
The laft true duties of thy noble fon.

Mar. Ay, tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,.
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:
O, were the fum of these that I fhould pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.

Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us

To melt in showers; thy grandfire loved thee well;
Many a time he danced thee on his knee;

Sung thee afleep, his loving breast 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 fmall drops from thy tender fpring,
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! even 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.

Enter Romans with AARON.

Rom. You fad Andronici, have done with 'woes:
Give fentence on this execrable wretch,
That hath been breeder of thefe dire events.

Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him:
There let him ftand, and rave and cry for food:
If any one relieves or pities him,

For the offence he dies: this is our doom.
Some stay to fee him faftened in the earth.

1

Aar. O, why fhould wrath be mute, and fury dumb !-----

I am no baby, I, that with base

prayers
I fhould repent the evil I have done:
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
Would I perform, if I might have my will:
If one good deed in all my life I did,

I do repent it from my very foul.

Luc. Some loving friends convey the Emperor
hence,

And give him burial in his father's grave.
My father and Lavinia fhall forthwith
Be clofed in our houfhold's monument:
As for that heinous tygrefs Tamora,

No funeral rites, nor man in mournful weeds,
No mournful bell fhall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beafts and birds of prey;
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity,
And being fo, fhall have like want of pity.
See juftice done on Aaron that damned Moor,
From whom our heavy haps had their beginning:
Then afterwards we'll order well the State,

That like events may ne'er it-ruinate.

[Exeunt omnes,