Page 2195 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2195
Even when their sorrow almost was forgot,
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters
‘Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.’ [140]
But I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed,
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
LUCIUS
Bring down the devil, for he must not die
So sweet a death as hanging presently.
AARON
If there be devils, would I were a devil,
To live and burn in everlasting fire,
So I might have your company in hell,
But to torment you with my bitter tongue! [150]
LUCIUS
Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more.
Enter Æmilius.
GOT H
My lord, there is a messenger from Rome
Desires to be admitted to your presence.
LUCIUS
Let him come near.
Welcome, Æmilius, what’s the news from Rome?
ÆMILIUS
Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths,
The Roman emperor greets you all by me;
And, for he understands you are in arms,
He craves a parley at your father’s house,
Willing you to demand your hostages, [160]
And they shall be immediately delivered.
