92Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught,

93Returnes with precious lading to the Bay,

94From whence at first she wegih'd her Anchorage:

95Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes,

96To resalute his Country with his teares,

97Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome,

98Thou great defender of this Capitoll,

99Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend.

100Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes,

101Halfe of the number that King Priam had,

102Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead!

103These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue:

104These that I bring vnto their latest home,

105With buriall amongst their Auncestors.

106Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword:

107Titus vnkinde, and carelesse of thine owne,

108Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet,

109To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix?

110Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

112There greete in silence as the dead are wont,

113And sleepe in peace, slaine in your Countries warres:

114O sacred receptacle of my ioyes,

115Sweet Cell of vertue and Noblitie,

116How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store,

117That thou wilt neuer render to me more?

118Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes,

119That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile

120Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh:

121Before this earthly prison of their bones,

122That so the shadowes be not vnappeas'd,

123Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

124Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues,

125The eldest Son of this distressed Queene.

126Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror,

127Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed,

128A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne:

129And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee,

130Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee.

131Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome

132To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne

133Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake,

134But must my Sonnes be slaughtred in the streetes,

135For Valiant doings in their Countries cause?

136O! If to fight for King and Common-weale,

137Were piety in thine, it is in these:

138Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood.

139Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods?

140Draw neere them then in being mercifull.

141Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge,

142Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne.

143Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me.

144These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld

145Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine,

146Religiously they aske a sacrifice:

147To this your sonne is markt, and die he must,

148T'appease their groaning shadowes that are gone.

149Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight,

150And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood,

151Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

153Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety.

154Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous?

155Dem. Oppose me Scythia to ambitious Rome,

156Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue,

157To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes,

158Then Madam stand resolu'd, but hope withall,

159The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy

160With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge

161Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,

162May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes,

163(When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene)

164To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes.

166Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd

167Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt,

168And intrals feede the sacrifising fire,

169Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the skie.

170Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren,

171And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome.

172Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus

173Make this his latest farewell to their soules.

176In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes,

177Romes readiest Champions, repose you heere in rest,

178Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps:

179Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie swels,

180Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no stormes,

181No noyse, but silence and Eternall sleepe,

182In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes.

184Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long,

185My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame:

186Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares,

187I render for my Bretherens Obsequies:

188And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy

189Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome.

190O blesse me heere with thy victorious hand,

191Whose Fortune Romes best Citizens applau'd.

192Ti. Kind Rome,

193That hast thus louingly reseru'd

194The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart,

195Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes:

196And Fames eternall date for vertues praise.

197Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother,

198Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome.

199Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune,

200Noble brother Marcus.

201Mar. And welcome Nephews from succesfull wars,

202You that suruiue and you that sleepe in Fame:

203Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all,

204That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords.

205But safer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe,

206That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines,

207And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed.

208Titus Andronicus,, the people of Rome,

209Whose friend in iustice thou hast euer bene,

210Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust,

211This Palliament of white and spotlesse Hue,

212And name thee in Election for the Empire,

213With these our late deceased Emperours Sonnes:

214Be Candidatus then, and put it on,

215And helpe to set a head on headlesse Rome.

216Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits,

217Then his that shakes for age and feeblenesse: