For shame, put up. Dem. Not I, till I have sheath'd Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd,— Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous What, is Lavinia, then, become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd Young lords, beware! an should the empress know 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.(22) Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; VOL. V. Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. Aar. Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. [Aside. Dem. Then why should he despair that knows to court it With words, fair looks, and liberality? What, hast not thou 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. Would you had hit it too! Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye,-and are you such fools 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, A speedier course than (23) lingering languishment To villany and vengeance consecrate, But to your wishes' height advance you both. There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; 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(24) fits, Per Styga, per manes vehor. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard. Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS. Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey,(25) And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, Horns wind a peal. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, Bassianus, Many good morrows to your majesty ; Madam, to you as many and as good: I promised your grace a hunter's peal. Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lord ;(2) Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. Bas. Lavinia, how say you? I have been broad awake two hours and more. VOL. V. Sat. Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have, And to our sport.-Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting. Marc. I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, [To Tamora. Tit. And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt. A SCENE III. A lonely part of the forest. Enter AARON, with a bag of gold. Aar. He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villany: And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest [Hides the gold. That have their alms out of the empress' chest. Enter TAMORA. Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush; The snake lies rollèd in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, As if a double hunt were heard at once, When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, What signifies my deadly-standing eye, No, madam, these are no venereal signs: Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,— Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA. Bas. Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy groves To see the general hunting in this forest? [Exit. |