hourly in the flood. Tell the empress from me, I am of age To keep mine own, excuse it how she can. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? My mistress is my mistress; this myself, The vigour and the picture of my youth: This before all the world do I prefer; This maugre all the world will I keep safe, Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. By this our mother is forever shamed. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. I blush to think upon this ignomy. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart! Here's a young lad framed of another leer: Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father, As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you, And from that womb where you imprison'd were He is enfranchised and come to light: Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seal be stamped in his face. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy advice: Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. My son and I will have the wind of you: Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety. How many women saw this child of his? Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league, I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. But say, again; how many saw the child? Cornelia the midwife and myself; And no one else but the deliver'd empress. The empress, the midwife, and yourself: Two may keep counsel when the third's away: Go to the empress, tell her this I said. Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this? O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: And now be it known to you my full intent. Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; His child is like to her, fair as you are: Go pack with him,