Tit. Tribunes I thanke you, and this sure I make, That you Create your Emperours eldest sonne, Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope, Reflect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth, And ripen Iustice in this Common-weale: Then if you will elect by my aduise, Crowne him, and say: Long liue our Emperour
Mar. An. With Voyces and applause of euery sort, Patricians and Plebeans we Create Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour. And say, Long liue our Emperour Saturnine.
A long Flourish till they come downe.
Satu. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done, To vs in our Election this day, I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deserts, And will with Deeds requite thy gentlenesse: And for an Onset Titus to aduance Thy Name, and Honorable Familie, Lauinia will I make my Empresse, Romes Royall Mistris, Mistris of my hart And in the Sacred Pathan her espouse: Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee? Tit. It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match, I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace, And heere in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and Commander of our Common-weale, The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Consecrate, My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prisoners, Presents well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord: Receiue them then, the Tribute that I owe, Mine Honours Ensignes humbled at my feete
Satu. Thankes 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 vnspeakable Deserts, Romans forget your Fealtie to me
Tit. Now Madam are you prisoner to an Emperour, To him that for your Honour and your State, Will vse you Nobly and your followers
Satu. A goodly Lady, trust me of the Hue That I would choose, were I to choose a new: Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance, Though chance of warre Hath wrought this change of cheere, Thou com'st not to be made a scorne in Rome: Princely shall be thy vsage euery way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you, Can make you Greater then the Queene of Gothes? Lauinia you are not displeas'd with this? Lau. Not I my Lord, sith true Nobilitie, Warrants these words in Princely curtesie
Sat. Thankes sweete Lauinia, Romans let vs goe: Ransomlesse heere we set our Prisoners free, Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and Drum
Bass. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine
Tit. How sir? Are you in earnest then my Lord? Bass. I Noble Titus, and resolu'd withall, To doe my selfe this reason, and this right
Marc. Suum cuiquam, is our Romane Iustice, This Prince in Iustice ceazeth but his owne
Luc. And that he will and shall, if Lucius liue
Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde? Treason my Lord, Lauinia is surpris'd
Sat. Surpris'd, by whom? Bass. By him that iustly may Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away
Muti. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away, And with my Sword Ile keepe this doore safe
Tit. Follow my Lord, and Ile soone bring her backe
Mut. My Lord you passe not heere
Tit. What villaine Boy, bar'st me my way in Rome? Mut. Helpe Lucius helpe. He kils him
Luc. My Lord you are vniust, and more then so, In wrongfull quarrell, you haue slaine your son
Tit. Nor thou, nor he are any sonnes of mine, My sonnes would neuer so dishonour me. Traytor restore Lauinia to the Emperour
Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife, That is anothers lawfull promist Loue. Enter aloft the Emperour with Tamora and her two sonnes, and Aaron the Moore.