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.]
DEMETRIUS.
Why do the emperor’s trumpets flourish thus?
CHIRON.
Belike for joy the emperor hath a son.
DEMETRIUS.
Soft, who comes here?