AARON.
Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it.
[Aside.] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
Here’s no sound jest! The old man hath found their guilt,
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well afoot,
She would applaud Andronicus’ conceit.
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.—
And now, young lords, was’t not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good before the palace gate
To brave the tribune in his brother’s hearing.
DEMETRIUS.
But me more good to see so great a lord
Basely insinuate and send us gifts.
AARON.
Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
DEMETRIUS.
I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
CHIRON.
A charitable wish, and full of love.
AARON.
Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.
CHIRON.
And that would she for twenty thousand more.
DEMETRIUS.
Come, let us go and pray to all the gods
For our beloved mother in her pains.
AARON.
[Aside.] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.
[Trumpets sound.]