_Max._ As you make the Encounter: Sir, I hear, That you repine, and hold your self much griev'd, In that, without your good leave, I bestow'd The Gallian Proconsulship upon A follower of mine. _Cha._ 'Tis true: and wonder You durst attempt it. _Max._ Durst, _Charinus_? _Cha._ Durst: Again, I speak it: Think you me so tame, So leaden and unactive, to sit down With such dishonour? But, recal your grant, And speedily; or by the _Roman_ ---- Thou tripst thine own heels up, and hast no part In _Rome_, or in the Empire. _Max._ Thou hast none, But by permission: Alas, poor _Charinus_, Thou shadow of an Emperour, I scorn thee, Thee, and thy foolish threats: the gods appoint him The absolute disposer of the Earth, That has the sharpest sword. I am sure, _Charinus_, Thou wear'st one without edge. When cruel _Aper_ Had kill'd _Numerianus_, thy Brother, (An act that would have made a trembling coward More daring than _Alcides_) thy base fear Made thee wink at it: then rose up my Uncle (For the honour of the Empire, and of _Rome_) Against the Traitor, and among his Guards Punish'd the treason: This bold daring act Got him the Souldiers suffrages to be _Cæsar_. And howsoever his too gentle nature Allow'd thee the name only, as his gift, I challenge the succession. _Cha._ Thou ar[t] cozen'd. When the receiver of a courtesie Cannot sustain the weight it carries with it, 'Tis but a Trial, not a present Act. Thou hast in a few dayes of thy short Reign, In over-weening pride, riot and lusts, Sham'd noble _Dioclesian_, and his gift: Nor doubt I, when it shall arrive unto His certain knowledge, how the Empire groans Under thy Tyranny, but he will forsake His private life, and once again resume His laid-by Majestie: or at least, make choice Of such an _Atlas_ as may bear this burthen, Too heavie for thy shoulders. To effect this, Lend your assistance, Gentlemen, and then doubt not But that this mushroom (sprung up in a night) Shall as soon wither. And for you, _Aurelia_, If you esteem your honour more than tribute Paid to your loathsome appetite, as a Furie Flie from his loose embraces: so farewel; E're long you shall hear more. [_Exeunt._ _Aur._ Are you struck dumb, That you make no reply? _Max._ Sweet, I will do, And after talk: I will prevent their plots, And turn them on their own accursed heads. My Uncle? good: I must not know the names Of Pietie or Pitie. Steel my heart, Desire of Empire, and instruct me, that The Prince that over others would bear sway, Checks at no Let that stops him in his way. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter three Shepherds, and two Countreymen._ _1 Shep._ Do you think this great man will continue here?