_Del._ Enjoy thy wishes; This is an easie Boon, which at thy years, I could have given to any; but now grown Perfect in all the hidden mysteries Of that inimitable Art, which makes us Equal even to the gods, and Natures wonders, It shall be done, as fits my skill and glory: To break thorow bolts, and locks, a Scholars prize For Thieves, and Pick-locks: to pass thorow an Army Cover'd with night, or some disguise, the practice Of poor and needy Spies: No, my _Drusilla_, From _Ceres_ I will force her winged Dragons, And in the air hung over the Tribunal; (The Musick of the Spheres attending on us.) There, as his good Star, thou shalt shine upon him, If he prove true, and as his Angel guard him. But if he dare be false, I, in a moment Will put that glorious light out, with such horrour, As if the eternal Night had seiz'd the Sun, Or all things were return'd to the first Chaos, And then appear like Furies. _Dru._ I will do What e're you shall command. _Del._ Rest then assur'd, I am the Mistris of my Art, and fear not. [_Exeunt._ [_Soft Musick._ SCENE II. _Enter_ Aper, Camurius, _Guard, a Litter covered_. _Aper._ Your care of your sick Emperour, fellow-souldiers, In colours to the life, doth shew your love, And zealous duty: O continue in it. And though I know you long to see and hear him, Impute it not to pride, or Melancholy, That keeps you from your wishes: such State-vices (Too too familiar with great Princes) are Strangers to all the actions of the life Of good _Numerianus_: Let your patience Be the Physitian to his wounded eyes, (Wounded with pious sorrow for his Father) Which time and your strong Patience will recover, Provided it prove constant. _1 Guard._ If he counterfeit, I will hereafter trust a prodigal heir, When he weeps at his Fathers Funeral. _2 Guard._ Or a young widow following a bed-rid husband, (After a three years groaning) to the Fire. _3 Guard._ Note his humility, and with what soft murmurs He does enquire his pleasures. _1 Guard._ And how soon He is instructed. _2 Guard._ How he bows again too. _Aper._ All your commands (dread _Cæsar_) I'll impart To your most ready Souldier, to obey them; So take your rest in peace. It is the pleasure Of mighty _Cæsar_ (his thanks still remembred For your long patience, which a donative, Fitting his State to give, shall quickly follow) That you continue a strict Guard upon His sacred person, and admit no stranger Of any other Legion, to come near him; You being most trusted by him. I receive Your answer in your silence. Now, _Camurius_, Speak without flattery; Hath thy _Aper_ acted This passion to the life?