_Luci._ The sins of _Tarquin_ be remember'd in thee, And where there has a chast wife been abus'd, Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter, And last for ever thine, the fear'd example. Where shall poor vertue live, now I am faln? What can your honours now, and Empire make me, But a more glorious Whore? _Emp._ A better woman, But if ye will be blind, and scorn it, who can help it? Come leave these lamentations, they do nothing, But make a noyse, I am the same man still, Were it to do again; therefore be wiser, By all this holy light, I should attempt it, Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish, There were no pleasure in ye else. _Luci._ Oh villain. _Emp._ So bred for mans amazement, that my reason And every help to hold me right has lost me; The God of love himself had been before me Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly, How can I choose but err then? if ye dare Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious, I envie any other should enjoy ye, Almost look on ye; and your daring husband Shall know h'as kept an offring from the Empire, Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest, More than my self I'le make it: if ye will not Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever, And be the same you were; if ye divulge it, Know I am far above the faults I do, And those I do I am able to forgive too; And where your credit in the knowledge of it, May be with gloss enough suspected, mine Is as mine own command shall make it: Princes though they be sometime subject to loose whispers, Yet wear they two edged swords for open censures: Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier; Your husband is my creature, they my weapons, And only where I bid 'em strike; I feed 'em, Nor can the Gods be angry at this action, For as they make me most, they mean me happiest, Which I had never been without this pleasure: Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women At home before ye, they have had some sport too, But are more thankful for it-- [_Exit Emperour._ _Luci._ Destruction find thee. Now which way must I go? my honest house Will shake to shelter me, my husband flee me, My Family, because they are honest, and desire to be so, Must not endure me, not a neighbour know me: What woman now dare see me without blushes, And pointing as I pass, there, there, behold her, Look on her little Children, that is she, That handsome Lady, mark; O my sad fortunes, Is this the end of goodness, this the price Of all my early prayers to protect me, Why then I see there is no God but power, Nor vertue now alive that cares for us, But what is either lame or sensual, How had I been thus wretched else? _Enter_ Maximus, _and_ Æcius.