Dem.
Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge
And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd,
And may, for ought thou know'st, affected be.

Chi.
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 passion for Lavinia's love.

Aar.
Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace.

Dem.
Why boy, although our mother (unadvis'd)
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.

Chi.
Mean while Sir, with the little skill I have,
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.

Dem.
Ay boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw.

Aar.
Why now, lords?
So near the Emp'ror'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.

Dem.
Not I, 'till I have sheath'd
My rapier in his bosom, and withal
Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat,
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here.

Chi.
For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd,
Foul-spoken coward! thou thundrest with thy tongue,
And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform.

Aar.
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 broacht,
Without controulment, justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware—and should the Empress know
This discord's ground, the musick would not please.

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

Dem.
Youngling, learn thou to make some better choice,
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope.

Aar.
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 devise.

Chi.
Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose,
To atchieve her whom I do love?

Aar.
To atchieve her—how!

Dem.
Why mak'st 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 lov'd.
What man? more water glideth by the mill
Than wots the miller of, and easie it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive we know:
Tho' Bassianus be the Emperor's brother,
Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge.

Aar.
Ay, and as good as Saturninus may.

Dem.
Then why should he despair, that knows to court it
With words, fair looks, and liberality?
What, hast thou not full often struck a doe,
And born her cleanly by the keeper's nose?

Aar.
Why then it seems some certain snatch or so
Would serve your turns.

Chi.
Ay, so the turn were served.

Dem.
Aaron, thou hast hit it.

Aar.
Would you had hit it too,
Then should not we be tir'd with this ado:
Why, hark ye, hark ye—and are you such fools
To † ^notesquare for this? would it offend you then—

Chi.
Faith, not me.

Dem.
Nor me, so I were one.

Aar.
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 atchieve,
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 lingring 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,
We will acquaint with all that we intend,
And she shall file our engines with advice,
That will not suffer you to square your selves,
But to your wishes heighth advance you both.
The Emperor's court is like the house of fame,
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of 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.

Chi.
Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardise.

Dem.
Sit fas aut nefas, 'till I find the stream
To cool this heat; a charm to calm these fits,
Per Styga, per Manes vebor. [Exeunt.

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