Titus Page #2

Proud Saturnine,

interrupter of the good,

that noble-minded Titus

means to thee.

Content thee, prince.

I will restore to thee

the people's hearts...

and wean them from themselves.

Andronicus,

I do not flatter thee

but honor thee,

and will do till I die.

My faction, if thou strengthen

with thy friends,

I will most thankful be.

People of Rome

and people's tribunes here,

I ask your voices

and your suffrages.

Will you bestow them

friendly on Andronicus?

To gratify the good Andronicus...

and gratulate

his safe return to Rome,

the people will accept

whom he admits.

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 if you will elect

by my advice,

crown him and say,

"Long live our emperor!"

Long live

our emperor Saturnine!

Patricians and plebeians,

we create Lord Saturninus

Rome's great emperor...

and say, "Long live

our Emperor Saturnine!"

Titus Andronicus,

for thy favors 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 honorable 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?

Hmm?

It doth, my worthy lord,

and in this match I hold me

highly honored 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 imperial lord.

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 thy fealty to me.

Now, madam, are you

prisoner to an emperor-

to him that, for your honor

and your state,

will use you nobly

and your followers.

Mmm.

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 comest 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 that comforts you...

can make you greater

than Queen of Goths.

Lavinia, you are not

displeased with this?

Not I, my Lord,

sith true nobility

warrants these words...

in princely courtesy.

Thanks, sweet Lavinia.

Romans, let us go!

Ransomless here

we set our prisoners free.

Proclaim our honors, lords,

with trump and drum.

Lord Titus, by your leave,

this maid is mine.

How, sir! Are you

in earnest, then, my lord?

Ay, noble Titus,

and resolved withal.

This prince in justice

seizeth but his own.

And that he will and shall,

if Lucius live.

Traitors, avaunt!

Where is the emperor's guard?

Treason, my lord,

Lavinia is surprised!

Surprised? By whom?

By him that justly may bear his

betrothed from all the world away.

Fear not, my lord,

I'll soon bring her back.

Brothers, help to convey

her hence away!

And with my sword

I'll keep this way safe.

My lord, you pass not here.

What, villain boy?

Barr'st me my way in Rome, huh?

Help! Lucius!

My lord! You are unjust!

And more than so,

in wrongful quarrel,

you have slain your son.

Nor thou nor he

are any sons of mine.

My sons would never

so dishonor me.

Traitor!

Restore Lavinia to the emperor.

Dead, if you will,

but not to be his wife...

that is another's lawful

promised love.

No, Titus, no!

The emperor needs her not!

Nor her, nor thee,

nor any of thy stock!

I will trust, by leisure,

him that mocks me once.

Thee never!

Nor thy traitorous,

haughty sons,

confederates all,

thus to dishonor me.

But go thy ways. Go!

A valiant son-in-law

shalt thou enjoy,

one fit to bandy

with thy lawless sons!

And therefore, lovely Tamora,

Queen of Goths,

if thou be pleased

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?

If Saturnine advance

the Queen of Goths,

she will a handmaid be

to his desires,

a loving nurse,

a mother to his youth.

Ascend, fair queen,

to the pantheon.

Lords, accompany

your noble emperor...

and his lovely bride.

There shall we consummate

our spousal rites.

Titus, when wen

thou wont to walk alone,

dishonored thus

and challenged of wrongs?

O Titus, see.

Oh, see what thou hast done-

in a bad quarrel

slain a virtuous son.

No, foolish tribune, no.

No son of mine,

nor thou, nor these,

confederates in the deed that

hath dishonored all our family.

But let us give him

burial as becomes.

Give Mutius burial

with our brethren.

Traitors, away.

He rests not in this tomb.

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.

He must be buried

with his brethren.

And shall, or him

we will accompany!

And shall?

What villain was it

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 has

struck upon my crest...

and, with these boys,

mine honor 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.

Father, and in that name

doth nature speak,

dear father, soul

and substance of us all.

Renowned Titus,

more than half my soul.

Rise, Marcus, rise.

The dismall'st day is this

that e'er I saw,

to be dishonored

by my sons in Rome.

Well, bury him!

And bury me the next.

I'll have another.

Ah!

So, Bassianus,

you have played your prize.

God give you joy, sir,

of your gallant bride.

And you of yours, my lord.

I say no more nor wish no

less, and so I take my leave.

Traitor!

If Rome have law

or we have power,

thou and thy faction

shall repent this rape.

Rape call you it, my lord,

to seize my own, my true-betrothed

love, and now my wife?

But let the laws of Rome

determine all.

Meanwhile, I am possessed

of that is mine.

'Tis good, sir.

You are very short with us.

But if we live,

we'll be as sharp with you.

My lord, what I have done,

as best I may,

answer I must

and shall do with my life.

This noble gentleman-

Lord Titus here-

is in opinion

and in honor wronged.

That in the rescue of Lavinia,

with his own hand,

did slay his youngest son

in zeal to you.

Hmm.

Receive him then to favor,

Saturnine.

Prince Bassianus,

leave to plead my deeds.

'Tis thou and those

that have dishonored me.

Rome and the righteous heavens

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