Page 2120 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

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.

T IT US

Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor,
To him that, for your honour and your state,
Will use you nobly and your followers. [260]

SAT URNINUS

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 change 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 displeased with this? [270]

LAVINIA

Not I, my lord, sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.

SAT URNINUS

Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go.
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free.
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.

Flourish.

BASSIANUS

Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.

T IT US

How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord?