_Max._ The thought I may be shaken: and assurance That what we do possess is not our own, But has depending on anothers favour: For nothing's more uncertain (my _Aurelia_) Than power that stands not on his proper Basis, But borrows his foundation. I'le make plain My cause of doubts and fears; for what should I Conceal from you, that are to be familiar With my most private thoughts? Is not the Empire My Uncles gift? and may he not resume it Upon the least distaste? Does not _Charinus_ Cross me in my designs? And what is Majestie When 'tis divided? Does not the insolent Souldier Call my command his donative? And what can take More from our honour? No (my wise _Aurelia_,) If I to you am more than all the world, As sure you are to me; as we desire To be secure, we must be absolute, And know no equal: when your Brother borrows The little splendor that he has from us, And we are serv'd for fear, not at entreaty, We may live safe; but till then, we but walk With heavie burthens on a sea of glass, And our own weight will sink us. _Aur._ Your Mother brought you Into the world an Emperour: you perswade But what I would have counsell'd: Nearness of blood, Respect of pietie, and thankfulness, And all the holy dreams of vertuous fools Must vanish into nothing, when Ambition (The maker of great minds, and nurse of honour) Puts in for Empire. On then, and forget Your simple Uncle; think he was the Master (In being once an Emperour) of a Jewel, Whose worth and use he knew not: For _Charinus_, No more my Brother, if he be a stop To what you purpose; he to Me's a stranger, And so to be remov'd. _Max._ Thou more than woman, Thou masculine Greatness, to whose soaring spirit To touch the stars seems but an easie flight; O how I glory in thee! those great women Antiquitie is proud of, thou but nam'd, Shall be no more remembred: but persevere, And thou shalt shine among those lesser lights, _Enter_ Charinus, Niger, _Guard_. To all posteritie like another _Phebe_, And so ador'd as she is. _Aur._ Here's _Charinus_, His brow furrow'd with anger. _Max._ Let him storm, And you shall hear me thunder. _Cha._ He dispose of My Provinces at his pleasure? and confer Those honours (that are only mine to give) Upon his creatures? _Nig._ Mighty Sir, ascribe it To his assurance of your love and favour, And not to pride or malice. _Cha._ No, good _Niger_, Courtesie shall not fool me; he shall know I lent a hand to raise him, and defend him, While he continues good: but the same strength If pride make him usurp upon my Right, Shall strike him to the Center. You are well met, Sir.