style="font-size:15px;"> Warrants these words in princely courtesy.SATURNINUS.
Thanks, sweet Lavinia.—Romans, let us go:
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free:
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
[Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show.]
BASSIANUS.
Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
[Seizing LAVINIA.]
TITUS.
How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?
BASSIANUS.
Ay, noble Titus; and resolv’d withal
To do myself this reason and this right.
MARCUS.
Suum cuique is our Roman justice:
This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
LUCIUS.
And that he will and shall, if Lucius live.
TITUS.
Traitors, avaunt!—Where is the emperor’s guard?—
Treason, my lord,—Lavinia is surpris’d!
SATURNINUS.
Surpris’d! by whom?
BASSIANUS.
By him that justly may
Bear his betroth’d from all the world away.
[Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA.]
MUTIUS.
Brothers, help to convey her hence away,
And with my sword I’ll keep this door safe.
[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS.]
TITUS.
Follow, my lord, and I’ll soon bring her back.
MUTIUS.
My lord, you pass not here.
TITUS.
What, villain boy!
Barr’st me my way in Rome?
[Stabbing MUTIUS.]
MUTIUS.
Help, Lucius, help!
[Dies.]
[Re-enter Lucius.]
LUCIUS.
My lord, you are unjust; and more than so:
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
TITUS.
Nor thou nor he are any sons of mine;
My sons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor.
LUCIUS.
Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,
That is another’s lawful promis’d love.
[Exit.]
SATURNINUS.
No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
I’ll trust by leisure him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine
That said’st I begg’d the empire at thy hands.
TITUS.
O monstrous! what reproachful words are these?
SATURNINUS.
But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish’d for her with his sword;
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
TITUS.
These words are razors to my wounded heart.
SATURNINUS.
And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths,—
That, like the stately Phoebe ‘mongst her nymphs,
Dost overshine the gallant’st dames of Rome,—
If thou be pleas’d with this my sudden choice,
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride
And will create thee empress of Rome.
Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,—
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn so bright, and everything
In readiness for Hymenaeus stand,—
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
I lead espous’d my bride along with me.
TAMORA.
And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear,
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
She will a handmaid be to his desires,
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
SATURNINUS.
Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon.—Lords, accompany
Your noble emperor and his lovely bride,
Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine,
