SCENE III.

Aur. Never dispute with me; you cannot have her: Nor name the greatness of your King; I scorn him: Your knees to me are nothing; should he bow too, It were his dutie, and my power to slight him. Cha. She is her woman; never sue to me; And in her power to render her, or keep her; And she, my Sister, not to be compell'd, Nor have her own snatch'd from her. Amb. We desire not, But for what ransom she shall please to think of; Jewels, or Towns, or Provinces. Aur. No ransom, No, not your Kings own head, his crown upon it, And all the low subjections of his people. Amb. Fair Princes should have tender thoughts. Aur. Is she too good To wait upon the mighty Emperours Sister? What Princess of that sweetness, or that excellence, Sprung from the proudest, and the mightiest Monarchs, But may be highly blest to be my servant? Cas. 'Tis most true, mighty Lady. Aur. Has my fair usage Made you so much despise me and your fortune, That ye grow weary of my entertainments? Henceforward, as ye are, I will command ye, And as you were ordain'd my prisoner, My slave, and one I may dispose of any way, No more my fair Companion: tell your King so: And if he had more Sisters, I would have 'em, And use 'em as I please. You have your answer. Amb. We must take some other way: force must compel it. [Ex.

Max. Now if thou beest a Prophetess, and canst do Things of that wonder that thy tongue delivers, Canst raise me too: I shall be bound to speak thee: I half believe, confirm the other to me, And Monuments to all succeeding Ages, Of thee, and of thy piety.—Now she eyes me. Now work great power of art: she moves unto me: How sweet, how fair, and lovely her aspects are! Her eyes like bright Eoan flames shoot thorow me. Aur. O my fair friend, where have you been? Max. What am I? What does she take me for? work still, work strongly. Aur. Where have you fled, my loves and my embraces? Max. I am beyond my wits. Aur. Can one poor Thunder, Whose causes are as common as his noises, Make ye defer your lawful and free pleasures? Strike terrour to a Souldiers heart, a Monarchs? Thorow all the fires of angry heaven, thorow tempests That sing of nothing but destruction, Even underneath the bolt of Jove, then ready, And aiming dreadfully, I would seek you, And flie into your arms. Max. I shall be mighty, And (which I never knew yet) I am goodly; For certain, a most handsom man. Cha. Fie, Sister, What a forgetful weakness is this in ye? What a light presence? these are words and offers Due only to your husband Dioclesian; This free behaviour only his. Aur. 'Tis strange That only empty names compel affections: This man, ye see, give him what name or title, Let it be ne're so poor, ne're so despis'd, Brother, This lovely man.— Max. Though I be hang'd, I'le forward: For, certain, I am excellent, and knew not. Aur. This rare and sweet young man, see how he looks, Sir. Max. I'le justle hard, dear Uncle. Aur. This thing, I say, Let him be what he will, or bear what fortune, This most unequall'd man, this spring of beauty Deserves the bed of Juno. Cha. You are not mad. Max. I hope she be; I am sure I am little better. Aur. O fair, sweet man! Cha. For shame refrain this impudence. Max. Would I had her alone, that I might seal this blessing: Sure, sure she should not beg: if this continue, As I hope, Heaven, it will; Uncle, I'le nick ye, I'le nick ye, by this life. Some would fear killing In the pursuit now of so rare a venture;

I am covetous to die for such a beauty. Mine Uncle comes: now, if she stand, I am happie. Cha. Be right again, for honours sake. Dio. Fair Mistris— Aur. What man is this? Away. What sawcy fellow? Dare any such base groom press to salute me? Dio. Have ye forgot me, Fair, or do you jest with me? I'le tell ye what I am: come, 'pray ye look lovely. Nothing but frowns and scorns? Aur. Who is this fellow? Dio. I'le tell ye who I am: I am your husband. Aur. Husband to me? Dio. To you. I am Dioclesian. Max. More of this sport, and I am made, old Mother: Effect but this thou hast begun. Dio. I am he, Lady, Reveng'd your Brothers death; slew cruel Aper; I am he the Souldier courts, the Empire honours, Your Brother loves; am he (my lovely Mistriss) Will make you Empress of the World. Max. Still excellent; Now I see too, mine Uncle may be cozen'd: An Emperour may suffer like another. Well said, old Mother, hold up this miracle. Aur. Thou lyest, thou art not he: thou a brave fellow? Char. Is there no shame, no modesty in women? Aur. Thou one of high and full mark? Dio. Gods! what ails she? Aur. Generous and noble? Fie, thou liest most basely. Thy face, and all aspects upon thee, tell me Thou art a poor Dalmatian Slave, a low thing, Not worth the name of Roman; stand off farther. Dio. What may this mean? Aur. Come hither, my Endymion; Come, shew thy self, and all eyes be blessed in thee. Dio. Ha? what is this? Aur. Thou fair star that I live by, Look lovely on me, break into full brightness; Look, here's a face now, of another making, Another mold; here's a divine proportion, Eyes fit for Phoebus self to gild the World with; And there's a brow arch'd like the State of Heaven; Look how it bends, and with what radiance, As if the Synod of the gods sate under; Look there, and wonder; now behold that fellow, That admirable thing, cut with an Axe out. Max. Old Woman, though I cannot give thee recompence, Yet certainly, I'll make thy name as glorious. Dio. Is this in truth? Char. She is mad, and you must pardon her. Dio. She hangs upon him; see. Char. Her fit is strong now, Be not you passionate. Dio. She kisses. Char. Let her; 'Tis but the fondness of her fit. Dio. I am fool'd, And if I suffer this. Char. 'Pray ye, friend, be pacified, This will be off anon; she goes in. [Exit Aurelia. Dio. Sirrah. Max. What say you, Sir? Dio. How dare thy lips, thy base lips? Max. I am your Kinsman, Sir, and no such base one; I sought no kisses, nor I had no reason To kick the Princess from me; 'twas no manners; I never yet compell'd her; of her courtesie, What she bestows, Sir, I am thankful for. Dio. Be gone, Villain. Max. I will, and I will go off with that glory, And magnifie my fate. [Exit. Dio. Good Brother, leave me, I am to my self a trouble now. Char. I am sorry for't; You'll find it but a woman-fit to try ye. Dio. It may be so, I hope so. Char. I am asham'd, and what I think I blush at. [Exit. Dio. What misery hath my fortune bred me? And how far must I suffer? Poor and low States, Though they know wants and hungers, know not these, Know not these killing Fates; little contents them, And with that little they live, Kings commanding, And ordering both their ends and loves. O Honour! How greedily men seek thee, and once purchased, How many Enemies to mans peace bringst thou! How many griefs and sorrows, that like sheers, Like fatal Sheers, are sheering off our lives still! How many sad Eclipses do we shine thorow!

When I presum'd I was blessed in this fair woman. Del. Behold him now, and tell me how thou lik'st him. Dio. When all my hopes were up, and Fortune dealt me Even for the greatest, and the happiest Monarch, Then to be cozen'd, to be cheated basely? By mine own Kinsman cross'd? O villain Kinsman! Curse of my blood; because a little younger, A little smoother fac'd; O false, false woman, False and forgetful of thy faith; I'll kill him. But can I kill her hate too? No, he woos not, Nor worthy is of death, because she follows him, Because she courts him; Shall I kill an innocent? O Diocles! would thou hadst never known this, Nor surfeited upon this sweet Ambition, That now lies bitter at thy heart; O Fortune, That thou hast none to fool, and blow like bubbles, But Kings, and their Contents! Del. What think you now, Girl? Dru. Upon my life, I pity his misfortune: See how he weeps; I cannot hold. Del. Away, fool; He must weep bloody tears before thou hast him. How fare ye now, brave Dioclesian? What! lazy in your loves? has too much pleasure Dull'd your most mighty faculties? Dio. Art thou there! More to torment me? dost thou come to mock me? Del. I do, and I do laugh at all thy sufferings: I, that have wrought 'em, come to scorn thy wailings; I told thee once, this is thy fate, this woman, And as thou usest her, so thou shall prosper. It is not in thy power to turn this destiny, Nor stop the torrent of those miseries (If thou neglectst her still) shall fall upon thee. Sith that thou art dishonest, false of faith, Proud, and dost think no Power can cross thy pleasures; Thou wilt find a Fate above thee. Dru. Good Aunt, speak mildly; See how he looks and suffers. Dio. I find and feel, woman, That I am miserable. Del. Thou art most miserable. Dio. That as I am the most, I am most miserable. But didst thou work this? Del. Yes, and will pursue it. Dio. Stay there, and have some pity, fair Drusilla Let me perswade thy mercy, thou hast lov'd me, Although I know my suit will sound unjustly To make thy love the means to lose it self, Have pity on me. Dru. I will do. Del. Peace, Niece, Although this softness may become your love, Your care must scorn it. Let him still contemn thee, And still I'll work; the same affection He ever shews to thee, be it sweet or bitter, The same Aurelia shall shew him; no further; Nor shall the wealth of all his Empire free this. Dio. I must speak fair. Lovely young Maid, forgive me, Look gently on my sorrows; you that grieve too, I see it in your eyes, and thus I meet it. Dru. O Aunt, I am bless'd. Dio. Be not both young and cruel, Again I beg it thus. Dru. Thus, Sir, I grant it.

He's mine own now, Aunt. Del. Not yet, Girl, thou art cozen'd. Aur. O my dear Lord, how have I wrong'd your patience! How wandred from the truth of my affections! How (like a wanton fool) shun'd that I lov'd most! But you are full of goodness, to forgive, Sir, As I of grief to beg, and shame to take it; Sure I was not my self, some strange illusion, Or what you please to pardon. Dio. All, my Dearest; All, my Delight; and with more pleasure take thee, Than if there had been no such dream: for certain, It was no more. Aur. Now you have seal'd forgiveness, I take my leave, and the gods keep your goodness. [Exit. Del. You see how kindness prospers; be but so kind To marry her, and see then what new fortunes, New joys and pleasures; far beyond this Lady, Beyond her Greatness too. Dio. I'll dye a dog first. Now I am reconcil'd, I will enjoy her In spight of all thy spirits, and thy witchcrafts. Del. Thou shalt not, fool. Dio. I will, old doting Devil; And wert thou any thing but air and spirit, My Sword should tell thee. Del. I contemn thy threatnings, And thou shalt know I hold a power above thee. We must remove Aurelia; Come, farewel, fool, When thou shalt see me next, thou shalt bow to me. Dio. Look thou appear no more to cross my pleasures. [Exeunt.

So full of matter is our Historie, Yet mixt I hope with sweet varietie, The accidents not vulgar too, but rare, And fit to be presented, that there wants Room in this narrow Stage, and time to express In Action to the life, our Dioclesian In his full lustre: Yet (as the Statuary, That by the large size of Alcides's foot, Guess'd at his whole proportion) so we hope Your apprehensive judgments will conceive Out of the shadow we can only shew, How fair the Body was; and will be pleas'd, Out of your wonted goodness, to behold As in a silent Mirrour, what we cannot With fit conveniency of time, allow'd For such Presentments, cloath in vocal sounds. Yet with such Art the Subject is conveigh'd, That every Scene and passage shall be clear Even to the grossest Understander here.

The skilful Delphia finding by sure proof The presence of Aurelia dim'd the Beauty Of her Drusilla; and in spight of Charms, The Emperour her Brother, Great Charinus, Still urg'd her to the love of Dioclesian, Deals with the Persian Legats, that were bound For the Ransom of Cassana, to remove Aurelia, Maximinian, and Charinus Out of the sight of Rome; but takes their Oaths (In lieu of her assistance) that they shall not On any terms, when they were in their power, Presume to touch their lives; This yielded to, They lye in ambush for 'em. Dioclesian Still mad for fair Aurelia, that doted As much on Maximinian, twice had kill'd him, But that her frown restrain'd him: He pursues her With all humility; but she continues Proud and disdainful. The sign given by Delphia, The Persians break thorow, and seize upon Charinus and his Sister, with Maximinian, And free Cassana. For their speedy rescue, Enraged Dioclesian draws his Sword, And bids his Guard assist him; Then too weak Had been all opposition and resistance The Persians could have made against their fury, If Delphia by her Cunning had not raised A foggy Mist, which, as a Cloud, conceal'd them, Deceiving their Pursuers. Now be pleased, That your imaginations may help you To think them safe in Persia, and Dioclesian For this disaster circled round with sorrow, Yet mindful of the wrong. Their future fortunes We will present in Action; and are bold, In that which follows, that the most shall say, 'Twas well begun, but the End crown'd the Play. [Exit.