Page 2171 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2171
She’s with the lion deeply still in league, Exeunt.
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back;
And when he sleeps will she do what she list.
You are a young huntsman, Marcus, let alone; [100]
And come, I will go get a leaf of brass,
And with a gad of steel will write these words,
And lay it by. The angry northern wind
Will blow these sands like Sibyl’s leaves abroad;
And where’s our lesson then? Boy, what say you?
BOY
I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother’s bed-chamber should not be safe
For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome.
MARCUS
Ay, that’s my boy! thy father hath full oft
For his ungrateful country done the like. [110]
BOY
And, uncle, so will I, and if I live.
T IT US
Come, go with me into mine armoury.
Lucius, I’ll fit thee; and withal my boy
Shall carry from me to the empress’ sons
Presents that I intend to send them both.
Come, come; thou’lt do my message, wilt thou not?
BOY
Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.
T IT US
No, boy, not so; I’ll teach thee another course.
Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house.
Lucius and I’ll go brave it at the court; [120]
Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we’ll be waited on.
MARCUS
