Document:  All > Shakespeare > Tragedies > Titus Andronicus > Act II, scene I

	[Enter AARON]

AARON: Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top,
	Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft,
	Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash;
	Advanced 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 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 shipwreck and his commonweal's.
	Holloa! what storm is this?

	[Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving]

DEMETRIUS: Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge,
	And manners, to intrude where I am graced;
	And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be.

CHIRON: 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.

AARON: [Aside]  Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep
	the peace.

DEMETRIUS: Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised,
	Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side,
	Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends?
	Go to; have your lath glued 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 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.

DEMETRIUS:                   Not I, till I have sheathed
	My rapier in his bosom and withal
	Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat
	That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.

CHIRON: For that I am prepared and full resolved.
	Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue,
	And with thy weapon nothing darest perform!

AARON: Away, I say!
	Now, by the gods that warlike 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! and should the empress know
	This discord's ground, the music would not please.

CHIRON: I care not, I, knew she and all the world:
	I love Lavinia more than all the world.

DEMETRIUS: Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice:
	Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope.

AARON: 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.

CHIRON:                   Aaron, a thousand deaths
	Would I propose to achieve her whom I love.

AARON: To achieve her! how?

DEMETRIUS: Why makest 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 loved.
	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.

AARON: [Aside]  Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.

DEMETRIUS: 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?

AARON: Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so
	Would serve your turns.

CHIRON: Ay, so the turn were served.

DEMETRIUS: Aaron, thou hast hit it.

AARON: Would you had hit it too!
	Then should not we be tired 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?

CHIRON: Faith, not me.

DEMETRIUS:                   Nor me, so I were one.

AARON: 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.

CHIRON: Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice,

DEMETRIUS: Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream
	To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits.
	Per Styga, per manes vehor.



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