But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword;
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy;
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons,
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.

TITUS.
These words are razors to my wounded heart.

SATURNINUS.
And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths,--
That, like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs,
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome,--
If thou be pleas'd 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?
And here I swear by all the Roman gods,--
Sith priest and holy water are so near,
And tapers burn so bright, and everything
In readiness for Hymenaeus stand,--
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome,
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place
I lead espous'd my bride along with me.

TAMORA.
And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear,
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths,
She will a handmaid be to his desires,
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.