TAMORA.
Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.
CLOWN.
’Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good e’en. I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.
[Saturninus reads the letter.]
SATURNINUS.
Go take him away, and hang him presently.
CLOWN.
How much money must I have?
TAMORA.
Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.
CLOWN.
Hanged! by’r Lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.
[Exit guarded.]
SATURNINUS.
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs!
Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?
I know from whence this same device proceeds.
May this be borne as if his traitorous sons,
That died by law for murder of our brother,
Have by my means been butchered wrongfully?
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair;
Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege.
For this proud mock I’ll be thy slaughterman,
Sly frantic wretch, that holp’st to make me great,
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.
Enter Aemilius.