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.