Tamora

 Saturninus and his followers at one door, and
 Bassianus and his followers at another door, with
 other Romans, Drums, and Trumpets.
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 firstborn son that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome.
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Tamora
My lovely Aaron, wherefore look’st thou sad,
When everything doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chant melody on every bush,
The snakes lies rollèd in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind
And make a checkered shadow on the ground.

We may, each wreathèd in the other’s arms,
Our pastimes done,
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Saturninus
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Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths?
These tidings nip me, and I hang the head
As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms.
Ay, now begins our sorrows to approach.
‘Tis he the common people love so much.
Myself hath often heard them say,
When I have walkèd like a private man,
That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully,

Tamora
Why should you fear? Is not your city strong?
Saturninus
Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius
And will revolt from me to succor him.
Tamora
King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name.
Is the sun dimmed that gnats do fly in it?
The eagle suffers little birds to sing
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
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