Page 2133 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

DEMET RIUS

Not I, till I have sheathed
My rapier in his bosom, and withal
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat,
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here.

CHIRON

For that I am prepared and full resolved,
Foul-spoken coward, that thund’rest with thy tongue
And with thy weapon nothing dar’st perform.

AARON

Away, I say! [60]
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 broached
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?
Young lords, beware, and should the empress know
This discord’s ground, the music would not please. [70]

CHIRON

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

DEMET RIUS

Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice:
Lavinia is thine elder brother’s hope.

AARON

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 device.

CHIRON