_Luci._ Wilt thou not kill me, Monster, Ravisher, Thou bitter bane o'th' Empire, look upon me, And if thy guilty eyes dare see these ruines, Thy wild lust hath laid level with dishonour, The sacrilegious razing of this Temple, The mother of thy black sins would have blush'd at, Behold and curse thy self; the Gods will find thee, That's all my refuge now, for they are righteous, Vengeance and horror circle thee; the Empire, In which thou liv'st a strong continued surfeit, Like poyson will disgorge thee, good men raze thee For ever being read again,--but vicious Women, and fearfull Maids, make vows against thee: Thy own Slaves, if they hear of this, shall hate thee; And those thou hast corrupted first fall from thee; And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier, Tir'd with thy Tyrannies, break through obedience, And shake his strong Steel at thee. _Emp._ This prevails not; Nor any Agony ye utter Lady, If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me, Curse the first cause, the witchcraft that abus'd me, Curse those fair eyes, and curse that heavenly beauty, And curse your being good too. _Luci._ Glorious thief, What restitution canst thou make to save me? _Emp._ I'le ever love, and honour you. _Luci._ Thou canst not, For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred, And can there be a love in violence? _Emp._ You shall be only mine. _Luci._ Yet I like better Thy villany, than flattery, that's thine own, The other basely counterfeit; flye from me, Or for thy safety sake and wisdom kill me, For I am worse than thou art; thou maist pray, And so recover grace; I am lost for ever, And if thou let'st me live, th'art lost thy self too. _Emp._ I fear no loss but love, I stand above it. _Luci._ Call in your Lady Bawds, and guilded Pander's And let them triumph too, and sing to _Cæsar_, _Lucina's_ faln, the chast _Lucina's_ conquer'd; Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me! For I am now no wife for _Maximus_, No company for women that are vertuous, No familie I now can claim, nor Country, Nor name, but _Cæsar_'s whore; O sacred _Cæsar_, (For that should be your title) was your Empire, Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Justice, Those fires that ever burn, to beg you blessings, The peoples adoration, fear of Nations, What victory can bring ye home, what else The usefull Elements can make your servants, Even light it self, and suns of light, truth, Justice, Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you, And from the gods themselves, to ravish women? The curses that I owe to Enemies, Even those the _Sabines_ sent, when _Romulus_, (As thou hast me) ravish'd their noble Maids, Made more, and heavier, light on thee. _Emp._ This helps not.