_Aur._ Can one poor Thunder, Whose causes are as common as his noises, Make ye defer your lawful and free pleasures? Strike terrour to a Souldiers heart, a Monarchs? Thorow all the fires of angry heaven, thorow tempests That sing of nothing but destruction, Even underneath the bolt of _Jove_, then ready, And aiming dreadfully, I would seek you, And flie into your arms. _Max._ I shall be mighty, And (which I never knew yet) I am goodly; For certain, a most handsom man. _Cha._ Fie, Sister, What a forgetful weakness is this in ye? What a light presence? these are words and offers Due only to your husband _Dioclesian_; This free behaviour only his. _Aur._ 'Tis strange That only empty names compel affections: This man, ye see, give him what name or title, Let it be ne're so poor, ne're so despis'd, Brother, This lovely man.-- _Max._ Though I be hang'd, I'le forward: For, certain, I am excellent, and knew not. _Aur._ This rare and sweet young man, see how he looks, Sir. _Max._ I'le justle hard, dear Uncle. _Aur._ This thing, I say, Let him be what he will, or bear what fortune, This most unequall'd man, this spring of beauty Deserves the bed of _Juno_. _Cha._ You are not mad. _Max._ I hope she be; I am sure I am little better. _Aur._ O fair, sweet man! _Cha._ For shame refrain this impudence. _Max._ Would I had her alone, that I might seal this blessing: Sure, sure she should not beg: if this continue, As I hope, Heaven, it will; Uncle, I'le nick ye, I'le nick ye, by this life. Some would fear killing In the pursuit now of so rare a venture; _Enter_ Diocles. I am covetous to die for such a beauty. Mine Uncle comes: now, if she stand, I am happie. _Cha._ Be right again, for honours sake. _Dio._ Fair Mistris-- _Aur._ What man is this? Away. What sawcy fellow? Dare any such base groom press to salute me? _Dio._ Have ye forgot me, Fair, or do you jest with me? I'le tell ye what I am: come, 'pray ye look lovely. Nothing but frowns and scorns? _Aur._ Who is this fellow? _Dio._ I'le tell ye who I am: I am your husband. _Aur._ Husband to me? _Dio._ To you. I am _Dioclesian_. _Max._ More of this sport, and I am made, old Mother: Effect but this thou hast begun. _Dio._ I am he, Lady, Reveng'd your Brothers death; slew cruel _Aper_; I am he the Souldier courts, the Empire honours, Your Brother loves; am he (my lovely Mistriss) Will make you Empress of the World. _Max._ Still excellent; Now I see too, mine Uncle may be cozen'd: An Emperour may suffer like another. Well said, old Mother, hold up this miracle. _Aur._ Thou lyest, thou art not he: thou a brave fellow? _Char._ Is there no shame, no modesty in women? _Aur._ Thou one of high and full mark?