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 ANDRONICUS [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 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 comforts you
Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths.
Lavinia, you are not displeased 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 ANDRONICUS How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?
BASSIANUS Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal
To do myself this reason and this right.
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