_Emp._ Never fear it, They are stronger than ye think, they'll hold the Hammer. My Empress swears thou art a lusty Souldier, A good one I believe thee. _Æcius._ All that goodness Is but your Graces Creature. _Emp._ Tell me truly, For thou dar'st tell me. _Æcius._ Any thing concerns ye, That's fit for me to speak and you to pardon. _Emp._ What say the Souldiers of me, and the same words, Mince 'em not, good _Æcius_, but deliver The very forms and tongues they talk withal. _Æcius._ I'll tell your Grace, but with this caution You be not stir'd, for should the gods live with us, Even those we certainly believe are righteous, Give 'em but drink, they would censure them too. _Emp._ Forward. _Æcius._ Then to begin, they say you sleep too much, By which they judge your Majesty too sensual, Apt to decline your strength to ease and pleasures, And when you do not sleep, you drink too much, From which they fear suspicions first, then ruines; And when ye neither drink nor sleep, ye wench much, Which they affirm first breaks your understanding, Then takes the edge of Honour, makes us seem, That are the ribs, and rampires of the Empire, Fencers, and beaten Fools, and so regarded; But I believe 'em not; for were these truths, Your vertue can correct them. _Emp._ They speak plainly. _Æc._ They say moreover (since your Grace will have it, For they will talk their freedoms, though the Sword Were in their throat) that of late time, like _Nero_, And with the same forgetfulness of glory, You have got a vein of fidling, so they term it. _Emp._ Some drunken dreams, _Æcius_. _Æcius._ So I hope, Sir: And that you rather study cruelty, And to be fear'd for blood, than lov'd for bounty, Which makes the Nations, as they say, despise ye, Telling your years and actions by their deaths, Whose truth and strength of duty made you _Cæsar_: They say besides you nourish strange devourers, Fed with the fat o'th' Empire, they call Bawds, Lazie and lustful Creatures that abuse ye, A People as they term 'em, made of paper, In which the secret sins of each man's monies Are seal'd and sent a working. _Emp._ What sin's next? For I perceive they have no mind to spare me. _Æcius._ Nor hurt you o' my soul, Sir; but such People (Nor can the power of man restrain it) When they are full of meat and ease, must prattle. _Emp._ Forward. _Æcius._ I have spoken too much, Sir. _Emp._ I'll have all. _Æcius._ It fits not Your ears should hear their Vanities; no profit Can justly rise to you from their behaviour, Unless ye were guilty of those crimes. _Emp._ It may be I am so, therefore forward. _Æcius._ I have ever Learn'd to obey, nor shall my life resist it. _Emp._ No more Apologies.