Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal
The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,--
When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen,--
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.

[Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS,and MUTIUS, with their swords
bloody.]

LUCIUS.
See, lord and father, how we have perform'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth naught but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.

TITUS.
Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded and the coffin laid in the tomb.]

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest,