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!
Enter Delphia, Drusilla, vail'd.
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?