Max. How confident he sits amongst his pleasures,
And what a chearful colour shews in's face,
And yet he sees me too, the Souldiers with me.
Aur. Be speedie in your work, (you will be stopt else)
And then you are an Emperour.
Max. I will about it.
Dio. My Royal Cousin, how I joy to see ye,
You, and your Royal Emperess!
Max. You are too kinde, Sir.
I come not to eat with ye, and to surfeit
In these poor Clownish pleasures; but to tell ye
I look upon ye like my Winding-sheet,
The Coffin of my Greatness, nay, my Grave:
For whilst you are alive—
Dio. Alive, my Cousin?
Max. I say, Alive. I am no Emperour;
I am nothing but mine own disquiet.
Dio. Stay, Sir.
Max. I cannot stay. The Souldiers doat upon ye.
I would fain spare ye; but mine own securitie
Compels me to forget you are my Uncle,
Compels me to forget you made me Cæsar:
For whilst you are remembred, I am buried.
Dio. Did not I make ye Emperour, dear [C]ousin,
The free gift from my special grace?