Act I, Scene I
Saturninus
Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms, And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords: I am his first-born son, that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father’s honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
Bassianus
Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Caesar’s son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence and nobility; But let desert in pure election shine, And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter Marcus Andronicus, aloft, with the crown.
Marcus
Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have, by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius For many good and great deserts to Rome: A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls: He by the senate is accited home From weary wars against the barbarous Goths; That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yoked a nation strong, train’d up in arms. Ten years are spent since first he undertook This cause of Rome and chastised with arms Our enemies’ pride: five times he hath return’d Bleeding to Rome, bearing
