Luci. Thou canst not,
For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred,
And can there be a love in violence?
Emp. You shall be only mine.
Luci. Yet I like better
Thy villany, than flattery, that's thine own,
The other basely counterfeit; flye from me,
Or for thy safety sake and wisdom kill me,
For I am worse than thou art; thou maist pray,
And so recover grace; I am lost for ever,
And if thou let'st me live, th'art lost thy self too.
Emp. I fear no loss but love, I stand above it.
Luci. Call in your Lady Bawds, and guilded Pander's
And let them triumph too, and sing to Cæsar,
Lucina's faln, the chast Lucina's conquer'd;
Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me!
For I am now no wife for Maximus,
No company for women that are vertuous,
No familie I now can claim, nor Country,
Nor name, but Cæsar's whore; O sacred Cæsar,
(For that should be your title) was your Empire,
Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Justice,
Those fires that ever burn, to beg you blessings,
The peoples adoration, fear of Nations,
What victory can bring ye home, what else
The usefull Elements can make your servants,
Even light it self, and suns of light, truth, Justice,
Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you,
And from the gods themselves, to ravish women?
The curses that I owe to Enemies,
Even those the Sabines sent, when Romulus,
(As thou hast me) ravish'd their noble Maids,
Made more, and heavier, light on thee.
Emp. This helps not.
Luci. The sins of Tarquin be remember'd in thee,
And where there has a chast wife been abus'd,
Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter,
And last for ever thine, the fear'd example.
Where shall poor vertue live, now I am faln?
What can your honours now, and Empire make me,
But a more glorious Whore?
Emp. A better woman,
But if ye will be blind, and scorn it, who can help it?
Come leave these lamentations, they do nothing,
But make a noyse, I am the same man still,
Were it to do again; therefore be wiser,
By all this holy light, I should attempt it,
Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish,
There were no pleasure in ye else.
Luci. Oh villain.
Emp. So bred for mans amazement, that my reason
And every help to hold me right has lost me;
The God of love himself had been before me
Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly,
How can I choose but err then? if ye dare
Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious,
I envie any other should enjoy ye,
Almost look on ye; and your daring husband
Shall know h'as kept an offring from the Empire,
Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest,
More than my self I'le make it: if ye will not
Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom
Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever,
And be the same you were; if ye divulge it,
Know I am far above the faults I do,
And those I do I am able to forgive too;
And where your credit in the knowledge of it,
May be with gloss enough suspected, mine
Is as mine own command shall make it:
Princes though they be sometime subject to loose whispers,
Yet wear they two edged swords for open censures:
Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier;
Your husband is my creature, they my weapons,
And only where I bid 'em strike; I feed 'em,
Nor can the Gods be angry at this action,
For as they make me most, they mean me happiest,
Which I had never been without this pleasure:
Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women
At home before ye, they have had some sport too,
But are more thankful for it— [Exit Emperour.