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Sooner this sword shall plow thy bowels up!

Aaron, taking the baby  
Sooner this sword shall plow thy bowels up!
Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother?
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky
That shone so brightly when this boy was got,
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point
That touches this my firstborn son and heir.
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus
With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood,
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands.
What, what, you sanguine, shallow-hearted boys,
You white-limed walls, you alehouse painted signs!
Coal-black is better than another hue
In that it scorns to bear another hue;
For all the water in the ocean
Can never turn the swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them 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 vigor 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 thy 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 imprisoned were
He is enfranchisèd and come to light.
Nay, he is your brother by the surer side,
Although my seal be stampèd in his face.

Act 4
Scene 2
Line 91

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