Titus Andronicus | Page 7

fame; none basely slain in brawls:-- Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
MARCUS. My lord, this is impiety in you: My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him; He must be buried with his bretheren.
QUINTUS & MARTIUS. And shall, or him we will accompany.
TITUS. And shall! What villain was it spake that word?
QUINTUS. He that would vouch it in any place but here.
TITUS. What, would you bury him in my despite?
MARCUS. No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
TITUS. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded: My foes I do repute you every one; So trouble me no more, but get you gone.
MARTIUS. He is not with himself; let us withdraw.
QUINTUS. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried.
[MARCUS and the Sons of TITUS kneel.]
MARCUS. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,--
QUINTUS. Father, and in that name doth nature speak,--
TITUS. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
MARCUS. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,--
LUCIUS. Dear father, soul and substance of us all,--
MARCUS. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, That died in honour and Lavinia's cause: Thou art a Roman,--be not barbarous. The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax, That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son Did graciously plead for his funerals: Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy, Be barr'd his entrance here.
TITUS. Rise, Marcus, rise: The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw, To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome!-- Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
[MUTIUS is put into the tomb.]
LUCIUS. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.
ALL. [Kneeling.] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
MARCUS. My lord,--to step out of these dreary dumps,-- How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome?
TITUS. I know not, Marcus, but I know it is,-- Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell: Is she not, then, beholding to the man That brought her for this high good turn so far?
MARCUS. Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
[Flourish. Re-enter, at one side, SATURNINUS, attended; TAMORA DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and AARON; at the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others.]
SATURNINUS. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize: God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride!
BASSIANUS. And you of yours, my lord! I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave.
SATURNINUS. Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.
BASSIANUS. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My true betrothed love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Meanwhile am I possess'd of that is mine.
SATURNINUS. 'Tis good, sir. You are very short with us; But if we live we'll be as sharp with you.
BASSIANUS. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must, and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your grace to know,-- By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, That, in the rescue of Lavinia, With his own hand did slay his youngest son, In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath To be controll'd in that he frankly gave: Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
TITUS. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds: 'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine!
TAMORA. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak indifferently for all; And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
SATURNINUS. What, madam! be dishonoured openly, And basely put it up without revenge?
TAMORA. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you! But on mine honour dare I undertake For good Lord Titus' innocence in all, Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: Then at my suit look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart.-- [Aside.] My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last; Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: You are but newly planted in your throne; Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, Upon a just survey take Titus' part, And so supplant you for ingratitude,-- Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,-- Yield at entreats; and then let me