That all the court may echo with the noise. Horns wind a peal. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, Tit. Many good morrows to your majesty;— Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords, Lav. I say, no; I have been broad awake two hours and more. Our Roman hunting. Mar. [TO TAMORA. I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, game Tit. And I have horse will follow where the 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. SCENE III. A desert 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 inherit1 it. Let him, that thinks of me so abjectly, 1 i. e. possess. Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem; 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.1 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 rolled in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a checkered shadow on the ground. Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at onceLet us sit down and mark their yelling noise. And-after conflict, such as was supposed The wandering prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave— We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet, melodious birds, Be unto us, as is a nurse's song Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine. What signifies my deadly-standing eye, No, madam, these are no venereal signs; 1 This is obscure. It seems to mean only, that they who are to come at this gold of the empress are to suffer by it. Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA. [Exit. Bas. Who have we here? Rome's royal empress Unfurnished 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? Tam. Saucy controller of our private steps! Lav. Under your patience, gentle empress, your Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag. Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian1 Doth make your honor of his body's hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequestered from all your train Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of this. Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long.2 Good king! to be so mightily abused! Tam. Why have I patience to endure all this? Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS. Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother, Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 1 Swarth is dusky. The Moor is called Cimmerian from the affinity of blackness to darkness. 2 He had yet been married but one night. The true reading may be "made her," i. e. Tamora. 3 Hedgehogs. As any mortal body, hearing it, Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.1 But straight they told me, they would bind me here And leave me to this miserable death. And then they called me, foul adulteress, [Stabs BASSIANUS. Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my [Stabbing him likewise. Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis,2-nay, barbarous Tamora! For no name fits thy nature but thy own! strength. Tam. Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys, Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. Dem. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her; First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw; This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hope braves your mightiness; Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Tam. But when you have the honey you desire, 1 This is said in fabulous physiology of those that hear the groan of the mandrake when torn up. 2 The propriety of this address will be best understood by consulting Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 42. 3 Painted hope is only specious hope, or ground of confidence more plausible than solid. Steevens thought that the word hope was interpolated, the sense being complete and the line more harmonious without it. |