Rome. Before the Palace. |
| |
Enter AARON. |
| Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, |
| Safe out of Fortune's shot; and sits aloft, |
| Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash, |
| Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach. |
| As when the golden sun salutes the morn, |
| And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, |
| Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach; |
| And overlooks the highest-peering hills; |
| So Tamora. |
| Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait |
| And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. |
| Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts |
| To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, |
| And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long |
| Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains, |
| And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes |
| Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. |
| Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! |
| I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, |
| To wait upon this new-made empress. |
| To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, |
| This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, |
| This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, |
| And see his ship wrack and his commonweal's. |
| Holla! what storm is this? |
| |
Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving. |
| Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge |
| And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd, |
| And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be. |
| Chi. Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all |
| And so in this, to bear me down with braves. |
| 'Tis not the difference of a year or two |
| Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate: |
| I am as able and as fit as thou |
| To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; |
| And that my sword upon thee shall approve, |
| And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. |
| Aar. Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace. |
| Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, |
| Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, |
| Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? |
| Go to; have your lath glu'd within your sheath |
| Till you know better how to handle it. |
| Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, |
| Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. |
| Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw. |
| Aar. Why, how now, lords! |
| So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, |
| And maintain such a quarrel openly? |
| Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge: |
| I would not for a million of gold |
| The cause were known to them it most concerns; |
| Nor would your noble mother for much more |
| Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome. |
| For shame, put up. |
| Dem. Not I, till I have sheath'd |
| My rapier in his bosom, and withal |
| Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat |
| That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here. |
| Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd, |
| Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue, |
| And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform! |
| Aar. Away, I say! |
| Now, by the gods that war-like Goths adore, |
| This petty brabble will undo us all. |
| Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous |
| It is to jet upon a prince's right? |
| What! is Lavinia then become so loose, |
| Or Bassianus so degenerate, |
| That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd |
| Without controlment, justice, or revenge? |
| Young lords, beware! an should the empress know |
| This discord's ground, the music would not please. |
| Chi. I care not, I, knew she and all the world: |
| I love Lavinia more than all the world. |
| Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice: |
| Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. |
| Aar. Why, are ye mad? or know ye not in Rome |
| How furious and impatient they be, |
| And cannot brook competitors in love? |
| I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths |
| By this device. |
| Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths |
| Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love. |
| Aar. To achieve her! how? |
| Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange? |
| She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; |
| She is a woman, therefore may be won; |
| She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. |
| What, man! more water glideth by the mill |
| Than wots the miller of; and easy it is |
| Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: |
| Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, |
| Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. |
| Aar. [Aside.] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. |
| Dem. Then why should he despair that knows to court it |
| With words, fair looks, and liberality? |
| What! hast thou not full often struck a doe, |
| And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? |
| Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so |
| Would serve your turns. |
| Chi. Ay, so the turn were serv'd. |
| Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. |
| Aar. Would you had hit it too! |
| Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. |
| Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools |
| To square for this? Would it offend you then |
| That both should speed? |
| Chi. Faith, not me. |
| Dem. Nor me, so I were one. |
| Aar. For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar: |
| 'Tis policy and stratagem must do |
| That you affect; and so must you resolve, |
| That what you cannot as you would achieve, |
| You must perforce accomplish as you may. |
| Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste |
| Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. |
| A speedier course than lingering languishment |
| Must we pursue, and I have found the path. |
| My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; |
| There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: |
| The forest walks are wide and spacious, |
| And many unfrequented plots there are |
| Fitted by kind for rape and villany: |
| Single you thither then this dainty doe, |
| And strike her home by force, if not by words: |
| This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. |
| Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit |
| To villany and vengeance consecrate, |
| Will we acquaint with all that we intend; |
| And she shall file our engines with advice, |
| That will not suffer you to square yourselves, |
| But to your wishes' height advance you both. |
| The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, |
| The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears: |
| The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull; |
| There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; |
| There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye, |
| And revel in Lavinia's treasury. |
| Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. |
| Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream |
| To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, |
| Per Styga, per manes vehor. [Exeunt. |
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