Cornelia the midwife and myself;
And no one else but the deliver'd empress.

Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?

The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death.

Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so.

A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime:
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.

A devil.

I mean, she is brought a-bed.

O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace!
She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd.

O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

Good morrow, lords:
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?