Page 2125 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2125
Marcus, even thou hast stroke 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.
QUINT US
He is not with himself, let us withdraw.
MART IUS
Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried.
The brother and the sons kneel.
MARCUS
Brother, for in that name doth nature plead... [370]
MART IUS
Father, and in that name doth nature speak...
T IT US
Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
MARCUS
Renownèd 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 [380]
Did graciously plead for his funerals:
Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy,
Be barred his entrance here.
T IT US
Rise, Marcus, rise.
