Æcius. Will ye walk yet?
Max. Come, come, she dare not dye, friend, that's the truth on't,
She knows the inticing sweets and delicacies
Of a young Princes pleasures, and I thank her,
She has made a way for Maximus to rise by.
Will't not become me bravely? why do you think
She wept, and said she was ravish'd? keep it here
And I'll discover to you.
Æcius. Well.
Max. She knows
I love no bitten flesh, and out of that hope
She might be from me, she contriv'd this knavery;
Was it not monstrous, friend?
Æcius. Does he but seem so,
Or is he mad indeed?
Æcius. Would it would fairly break.
Max. Methinks I am somewhat wilder than I was,
And yet I thank the gods I know my duty.
Enter Claudia.
Claud. Nay, you may spare your tears; she's dead.
She is so.