A plague upon this busie-headed rabble!
We will have tortures made to awe the slaves;
Peace makes them ever proud and malapert,
They'l be an Overseer of the State.
_Valen_. And plead reformation to depose you.
_Duk_. True, my faire Dutchesse, but Ile cut them short.
Rule still, deare brothers: take these to the fire,
Let me reade somewhat that augments desire,
Authors and golden Poems full of love;
Such the Petitions are that I approve.
So I may live in quiet with my wife,
Let fathers, mothers, children, all lose life.
If thou have issue, in despight of fate
They shall succeed in our Imperiall state.
Come, sweet, to dauncing, then to sport and play,
Till we have ruled all our life away.
[_Exeunt_.
_Manet, Otho_.
_Otho_. O pittifull condition of a Realme,
Where the chiefe ruler is ore-rul'd by pleasure!
Seeing my friend supriz'd, in this disguise
I followed him to meete the consequence.
And to my griefe I see his marriage rites
Will cut him short of all this earths delights.
What's that to me? When _Constantine_ is dead,
I have some hope to attaine her Nuptiall bed.
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