The Tragedy of Titus Andronicus. Уильям Шекспир

        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 ware 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.

        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 yok'd 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 his valiant sons

          In coffins from the field; and at this day

          To the monument of that Andronici

          Done sacrifice of expiation,

          And slain the noblest prisoner of the Goths.

          And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,

          Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,

          Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.

          Let us entreat, by honour of his name

          Whom worthily you would have now succeed,

          And in the Capitol and Senate's right,

          Whom you pretend to honour and adore,

          That you withdraw you and abate your strength,

          Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,

          Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.

        SATURNINUS. How fair the Tribune speaks to calm my thoughts.

        BASSIANUS. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy

          In thy uprightness and integrity,

          And so I love and honour thee and thine,

          Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,

          And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,

          Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,

          That I will here dismiss my loving friends,

          And to my fortunes and the people's favour

          Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

        SATURNINUS. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right,

          I thank you all and here dismiss you all,

          And to the love and favour of my country

          Commit myself, my person, and the cause.

          Rome, be as just and gracious unto me

          As I am confident and kind to thee.

          Open the gates and let me in.

        BASSIANUS. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor.

        CAPTAIN. Romans, make way. The good Andronicus,

          Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,

          Successful in the battles that he fights,

          With honour and with fortune is return'd

          From where he circumscribed with his sword

          And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome.

        TITUS.