confederates in the deed That hath dishonour'd all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! But let us give him burial, as becomes; Give Mutius burial with our brethren. Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb: This monument five hundred years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously re-edified: Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: Bury him where you can; he comes not here. My lord, this is impiety in you: My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him He must be buried with his brethren. And shall, or him we will accompany. 'And shall!' what villain was it that spake that word? He that would vouch it in any place but here. What, would you bury him in my despite? No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius and to bury him. 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. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,-- Father, and in that name doth nature speak,-- Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,-- Dear father, soul and substance of us all,-- 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. 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. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? 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? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. So