Sic. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; Being banish'd for 't, he came unto my hearth: 30
Sec. Mess. Great cause to give great thanks.
Sic. They are near the city? Sec. Mess. Almost at point to enter. Sic. We will meet them, And help the joy. [Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. A street near the gate. Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, VIRGilia, VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage, followed by Patricians, and others.
First Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them:
Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; Cry Welcome, ladies, welcome!'
Welcome, ladies, [A flourish with drums and trum- pets. Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Antium. A public place. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants. Auf. Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: Deliver them this paper: having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: dispatch. [Exeunt Attendants. Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS'
As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain.
Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger.
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way In all his own desires; nay, let him choose Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men; served his designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame Which he did end all his; and took some pride To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, I seem'd his follower, not partner, and He waged me with his countenance, as if I had been mercenary.
So he did, my lord: The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory,— Auf.
There was it : For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action: therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People. First Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats
All the Lords. You are most welcome home. Auf. I have not deserved it. 10 But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you?
Auf We must proceed as we do find the people. Third Con. The people will remain uncertain
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all. Auf. I know it; And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd, He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends; and, to this end, He bow'd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable and free. Third Con. Sir, his stoutness
When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping,-
And grieve to hear't. What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines: but there to end Where he was to begin and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding,-this admits no excuse. Auf. He approaches: you shall hear him. 70 Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours; Commoners being with him. Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier, No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home
Do more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action. We have made peace
That I would have spoke of: With no less honour to the Antiates
Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' the senate, what We have compounded on. Auf.
Read it not, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree He hath abused your powers.
Cor. Traitor! how now!
Auf Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus in Corioli?
You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously He has betray'd your business, and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, I say your city,' to his wife and mother;" Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk, never admitting Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears He whined and roar'd away your victory, That pages blush'd at him and men of heart Look'd wondering each at other.
Hear'st thou, Mars? 100 Auf Name not the god, thou boy of tears! Cor.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion- Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that Must bear my beating to his grave-shall join To thrust the lie unto him.
His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it.
Auf. My rage is gone; And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. 149 Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus. A dead march sounded.
SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, SATURNINUS and his Follow- ers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours. Sat. 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.
EMILIUS, a noble Roman. ALARBUS,
AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans.
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.
LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus. A Nurse.
Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
SCENE: Rome, and the country near it.
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 honour'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, 40 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,
Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. my right,
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar'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
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy 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 favour Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. [Exeunt the Followers of Bassianus. Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,
I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favour of my country Commit myself, my person and the cause.
[Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in. Bas. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. [Flourish. Saturninus and Bassianus go up into the Capitol.
Romans, make way: the good Andro
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, 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 Rome. Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MAR- TIUS and MUTIUS; after them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALAR BUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People follow- ing. The Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks.
Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!
Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught, Returns with precious lading 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 Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors:
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. And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight; Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed. [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mutius, with Alarbus.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. Then, madamn, stand resolved, but hope withal The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths- When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen- To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody. Luc. See, lord and father, how we have per- form'd
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
Titus, unkind and careless of thine own, Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? Make way to lay them by their brethren.
[The tomb is opened. There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, 90 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!
Luc. 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.
Tit. I give him you, the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. Tam. Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious con- queror,
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 Rome, 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
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. Tit. Let it be so; and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls.
[Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons: 150 Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in
My noble lord and father, live in fame! Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears I render, for my brethren's obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy, Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly re- served
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!
Marc. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome!
Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus.
Marc. And welcome, nephews, from suc- cessful wars,
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country's service drew your swords: But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, That hath aspired to Solon's happiness And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, 180 Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, This palliament of white and spotless hue; And name thee in election for the empire, With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: Be candidatus then, and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Rome.
Tit. A better head her glorious body fits Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: What should I don this robe, and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations to-day, To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my country's strength successfully, And buried one and twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country: Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world: Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
Marc. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the
The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves.
Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honour thee, and will do till I die: My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be; and thanks to men
Of noble minds is honourable meed.
Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here,
I ask your voices and your suffrages: Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Tribunes. To gratify the good Andronicus, 220 And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits.
Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit That you create your emperor's eldest son, I make, Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal: Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him, and say 'Long live our emperor !' 229 Marc. With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor, And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine !' [A long flourish till they come down Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day,
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: And, for an onset, Titus, to advance Thy name and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my empress, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match
I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot and my prisoners; Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me.
Tit. To Tamora] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor;
To him that, for your honour and your state, Will use you nobly and your followers.
Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance : Though chance of war hath wrought this change
Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy. Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go:
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and druin.
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