It did me good, before the palace gate, To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. Aaron. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ? Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love! Aaron. Here lacks but your mother for to say Amen. Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more. Dem. Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. Aaron. Pray to the devils: the gods have given [aside. Florish. us o'er. Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets florish thus? Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. Enter NURSE, with a blackamoor Child in her arms. Nurse. Good morrow, lords. O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? Aaron. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron now? Nurse. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone. Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! Aaron. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! What dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms? Nurse. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace : She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver❜d. Aaron. To whom? Nurse. Aaron. I mean, she's brought to bed. Well, God Give her good rest! What hath he sent her? Nurse. A devil. Aaron. Why, then she's the devil's dam; a joyful issue. Nurse. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue. Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. Aaron. Canst not undo. Chi. Done! that which thou Thou hast undone our mother. Aaron. Villain, I have done thy mother. Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend! Chi. It shall not live. Aaron. It shall not die. Nurse. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. Aaron. What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood. Dem. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point. Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon despatch it. Aaron. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. [takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws. Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood, Shall seise this prey out of his father's hands. What, what! ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs! Coal-black is better than another hue, In that it scorns to bear another hue: For all the water in the ocean Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, 1 Spit. |