ACT II.

       SCENE I. Rome. Before the palace.

       [Enter AARON.]

       AARON.

       Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top,

       Safe out of fortune’s shot; and sits aloft,

       Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning’s flash;

       Advanc’d above pale envy’s threatening reach.

       As when the golden sun salutes the morn,

       And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,

       Gallops the zodiac in his glistening coach,

       And overlooks the highest-peering hill;

       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, fett’red 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 shipwreck and his commonweal’s.—

       Holla! what storm is this?

       [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON braving.]

       DEMETRIUS.

       Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wit wants edge

       And manners, to intrude where I am grac’d;

       And may, for aught thou know’st, affected be.

       CHIRON.

       Demetrius, thou dost overween 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.

       AARON.

       [Aside.] Clubs, clubs! These lovers will not keep the peace.

       DEMETRIUS.

       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.

       CHIRON.

       Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have,

       Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.

       DEMETRIUS.

       Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?

       [They draw.]

       AARON.

       [Coming forward.] Why, how now, lords!

       So near the emperor’s palace dare ye 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.

       DEMETRIUS.

       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.

       CHIRON.

       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.

       AARON.

       Away, I say!—

       Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore,

       This pretty 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! and should the empress know

       This discord’s ground, the music would not please.

       CHIRON.