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Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make,

       That you create your emperor’s eldest son,

       Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope,

       Reflect on Rome as Titan’s rays on earth,

       And ripen justice in this commonweal:

       Then, if you will elect by my advice,

       Crown him, and say ‘Long live our Emperor!’

      MARCUS.

       With voices and applause of every sort,

       Patricians and plebeians, we create

       Lord Saturninus Rome’s great emperor;

       And say ‘Long live our Emperor Saturnine!’

       [A long flourish.]

      SATURNINUS.

       Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done

       To us in our election this day

       I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts,

       And will with deeds requite thy gentleness;

       And for an onset, Titus, to advance

       Thy name and honourable family,

       Lavinia will I make my empress,

       Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart,

       And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse:

       Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?

      TITUS.

       It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match

       I hold me highly honoured of your grace:

       And here in sight of Rome, to Saturnine,—

       King and commander of our commonweal,

       The wide world’s emperor,—do I consecrate

       My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners;

       Presents well worthy Rome’s imperious lord:

       Receive them then, the tribute that I owe,

       Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet.

      SATURNINUS.

       Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life!

       How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts

       Rome shall record; and when I do forget

       The least of these unspeakable deserts,

       Romans, forget your fealty to me.

      TITUS.

       [To TAMORA.] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor;

       To him that for your honour and your state

       Will use you nobly and your followers.

      SATURNINUS.

       A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue

       That I would choose, were I to choose anew.—

       Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance:

       Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer,

       Thou com’st not to be made a scorn in Rome:

       Princely shall be thy usage every way.

       Rest on my word, and let not discontent

       Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you

       Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.—

       Lavinia, you are not displeas’d with this?

      LAVINIA.

       Not I, my lord, sith true nobility

       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

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