Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top

Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top,
Safe out of Fortune’s shot, and sits aloft,
Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning flash,
Advanced above pale Envy’s threat’ning reach.

Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold
To wait upon this new-made emperess.

As when the golden sun salutes the morn
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach
And overlooks the highest-peering hills,
So Tamora.
Upon her wit doth earthly honor wait,
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart and fit thy thoughts
To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress,
And mount her pitch whom thou in triumph long
Hast prisoner held, fettered in amorous chains
And faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes
Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.
Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts!
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold
To wait upon this new-made emperess.
To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen,
This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph,
This siren that will charm Rome’s Saturnine
And see his shipwrack and his commonweal’s.
Holla! What storm is this?