_Char._ Sister, be rul'd, I am not yet so powerful To meet him in the field; he has under him The Flower of all the Empire, and the strength, The _Britain_, and the _German_ Cohorts; pray ye be patient, _Niger_, how stands the Souldier to him? _Nig._ In fear more, Sir, Than love or honour; he has lost their fair affections, By his most covetous and greedy griping: Are ye desirous to do something on him, That all the World may know ye lov'd your Brother? And do it safely too without an Army? _Char._ Most willingly. _Nig._ Then send out a Proscription, Send suddenly; And to that man that executes it (I mean, that brings his head) add a fair payment, No common Summ; then ye shall see I fear not, Even from his own Camp, from those men that follow him, Follow, and flatter him, we shall find one, And if he miss, one hundred that will venture it. _Aur._ For his reward, it shall be so, dear Brother, So far I'll honour him that kills the Villain; For so far runs my love to my dead Brother, Let him be what he will, base, old, or crooked, He shall have me; nay, which is more, I'll love him. I will not be deny'd. _Char._ You shall not, Sister; But ye shall know, my love shall go along too; See a _Proscription_ drawn; and for his recompence, My Sister, and half Partner in the Empire; And I will keep my word. _Aur._ Now ye do bravely. _Nig._ And though it cost my life, I'll see it publish'd. _Char._ Away then for the business. _Nig._ I am gone, Sir; You shall have all dispatch'd to night. _Char._ Be prosperous. _Aur._ And let the Villain fall. _Nig._ Fear nothing, Madam. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ Delphia, _and_ Drusilla. _Dru._ 'Tis true, that _Diocles_ is courteous, And of a pleasant nature, sweet and temperate; His Cousin _Maximinian_ proud and bloudy. _Delph._ Yes, and mistrustful too, my Girl, take heed, Although he seem to love thee, and affect Like the more Courtier, curious complement; Yet have a care. _Dru._ You know all my affection, And all my heart-desires are set on _Diocles_; But, Aunt, how coldly he requites this courtesie! How dull and heavily he looks upon me! Although I woo him sometimes beyond modesty, Beyond a Virgins care; how still he slights me, And puts me still off with your Prophecy, And the performance of your late prediction, That when he is Emperour, then he will marry me; Alas, what hope of that?