_Æcius._ You search the sore too deep, and I must tell ye, In any other man this had been boldness, And so rewarded; 'pray depress your spirit, For though I constantly believe you honest, Ye were no friend for me else, and what now Ye freely spake, but good you owe to th' Empire, Yet take heed, worthy _Maximus_, all ears Hear not with that distinction mine do, few You'll find admonishers, but urgers of your actions, And to the heaviest (friend;) and pray consider We are but shadows, motions others give us, And though our pities may become the times, Justly our powers cannot; make me worthy To be your friend ever in fair Allegiance, But not in force; For durst mine own soul urge me, (And by that Soul I speak my just affections) To turn my hand from Truth, which is obedience, And give the helm my Vertue holds, to Anger; Though I had both the Blessings of the _Bruti_, And both their instigations, though my Cause Carried a face of Justice beyond theirs, And as I am a servant to my fortunes, That daring soul, that first taught disobedience, Should feel the first example: say the Prince, As I may well believe, seems vicious, Who justly knows 'tis not to try our honours? Or say he be an ill Prince, are we therefore Fit fires to purge him? No, my dearest friend, The Elephant is never won with anger, Nor must that man that would reclaim a Lion, Take him by th' teeth. _Max._ I pray mistake me not. _Æcius._ Our honest actions, and the light that breaks Like morning from our service, chaste and blushing, Is that that pulls a Prince back; then he sees, And not till then truly repents his errours, When Subjects Crystal Souls are glasses to him. _Max._ My ever honour'd friend, I'll take your counsel. The Emperour appears, I'll leave ye to him. And as we both affect him, may he flourish. [_Exit Max._ _Enter the Emperour, and_ Chilax. _Emp._ Is that the best news? _Chil._ Yet the best we know, Sir. _Emp._ Bid _Maximus_ come to me, and be gone then; Mine own head be my helper, these are fools: How now _Æcius_, are the Souldiers quiet? _Æcius._ Better I hope, Sir, than they were. _Emp._ They are pleas'd, I hear, To censure me extreamly for my pleasures, Shortly they'll fight against me. _Æcius._ Gods defend, Sir. And for their censures they are such shrew'd Judgers; A donative of ten Sestertias I'll undertake shall make 'em ring your praises More than they sang your pleasures. _Emp._ I believe thee; Art thou in love, _Æcius_, yet? _Æcius._ O no Sir; I am too course for Ladies; my embraces, That only am acquainted with Alarms, Would break their tender Bodies.