ACT V
SCENE III. Rome. A Pavilion in Titus’s Gardens, with tables, &c.
And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
What, hath the firmament more suns than one?
What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?
Marcus, we will.
Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus?
We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.
It was, Andronicus.
Your reason, mighty lord?
What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?
What, was she ravished? Tell who did the deed.
Will’t please you eat? Will’t please your highness feed?
Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?
Go fetch them hither to us presently.
Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed.
Can the son’s eye behold his father bleed?
There’s meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s royal emperor!
Lucius, all hail, Rome’s gracious governor!
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips. These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stained face, The last true duties of thy noble son.