Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slaue, Sirs, helpe our Vnckle, to conuey him in,


The Trumpets shew the Emperour is at hand.

Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperour and Empresse, with Tribunes and others.

Sat. What, hath the Firemament more Suns then one? Luc. What bootes it thee to call thy selfe a Sunne? Mar. Romes Emperour & Nephewe breake the parle These quarrels must be quietly debated, The Feast is ready which the carefull Titus, Hath ordained to an Honourable end, For Peace, for Loue, for League, and good to Rome: Please you therfore draw nie and take your places

Satur. Marcus we will.


A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cooke, placing the meat on the Table, and Lauinia with a vale ouer her face.

Titus. Welcome my gracious Lord, Welcome Dread Queene, Welcome ye Warlike Gothes, welcome Lucius, And welcome all: although the cheere be poore, 'Twill fill your stomacks, please you eat of it

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be sure to haue all well, To entertaine your Highnesse, and your Empresse

Tam. We are beholding to you good Andronicus? Tit. And if your Highnesse knew my heart, you were: My Lord the Emperour resolue me this, Was it well done of rash Virginius, To slay his daughter with his owne right hand. Because she was enfor'st, stain'd, and deflowr'd? Satur. It was Andronicus

Tit. Your reason, Mighty Lord? Sat. Because the Girle, should not suruiue her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrowes

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectuall, A patterne, president, and liuely warrant, For me (most wretched) to performe the like: Die, die, Lauinia, and thy shame with thee, And with thy shame, thy Fathers sorrow die.

He kils her.

Sat. What hast done, vnnaturall and vnkinde? Tit. Kil'd her for whom my teares haue made me blind. I am as wofull as Virginius was, And haue a thousand times more cause then he

Sat. What was she rauisht? tell who did the deed, Tit. Wilt please you eat, Wilt please your Highnesse feed? Tam. Why hast thou slaine thine onely Daughter? Titus. Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius, They rauisht her, and cut away her tongue, And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong

Satu. Go fetch them hither to vs presently

Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pie, Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herselfe hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true, witnesse my kniues sharpe point.

He stabs the Empresse.

Satu. Die franticke wretch, for this accursed deed

Luc. Can the Sonnes eye, behold his Father bleed? There's meede for meede, death for a deadly deed

Mar. You sad fac'd men, people and Sonnes of Rome, By vprores seuer'd like a flight of Fowle, Scattred by windes and high tempestuous gusts: Oh let me teach you how, to knit againe This scattred Corne, into one mutuall sheafe, These broken limbs againe into one body

Goth. Let Rome herselfe be bane vnto herselfe, And shee whom mightie kingdomes cursie too, Like a forlorne and desperate castaway, Doe shamefull execution on her selfe. But if my frostie signes and chaps of age, Graue witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, Speake Romes deere friend, as er'st our Auncestor, When with his solemne tongue he did discourse To loue-sicke Didoes sad attending eare, The story of that balefull burning night, When subtil Greekes surpriz'd King Priams Troy: Tell vs what Sinon hath bewicht our eares, Or who hath brought the fatall engine in, That giues our Troy, our Rome the ciuill wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steele, Nor can I vtter all our bitter griefe, But floods of teares will drowne my Oratorie, And breake my very vttrance, euen in the time When it should moue you to attend me most, Lending your kind hand Commiseration. Heere is a Captaine, let him tell the tale, Your hearts will throb and weepe to heare him speake

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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