Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Satur. [Act 2, Scene 1]
Satur. Flourish. Enter Aaron alone.
Aron. Aron.
Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe,
Aron. Safe out of Fortunes shot, and sits aloft,
Aron. Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash,
Aron. Aduanc'd about pale enuies threatning reach:
Aron. As when the golden Sunne salutes the morne,
Aron. And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames,
Aron. Gallops the Zodiacke in his glistering Coach,
Aron. And ouer‑lookes the highest piering hills:
Aron. So Tamora
Aron. Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite,
Aron. And vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne.
Aron. Then Aaron arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts,
Aron. To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Mistris,
Aron. And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long
Aron. Hast prisoner held, fettred in amorous chaines,
Aron. And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes,
Aron. Then is Prometheus ti'de to Caucasus.