LUCIUS.
My lord, you are unjust; and more than so:
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.

TITUS.
Nor thou nor he are any sons of mine;
My sons would never so dishonour me.
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor.

LUCIUS.
Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife,
That is another's lawful promis'd love.

[Exit.]

SATURNINUS.
No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock:
I'll trust by leisure him that mocks me once;
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons,
Confederates all thus to dishonour me.
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus,
Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine
That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands.

TITUS.
O monstrous! what reproachful words are these?

SATURNINUS.