_ Stand farther off, good _Sceva_,
What heavenly Vision! do I wake or slumber?
Farther off that hand, Friend.
_Sce._ What Apparition?
What Spirit have I rais'd? sure 'tis a Woman,
She looks like one; now she begins to move too:
A tempting Devil, o' my life; go off, _Caesar_,
Bless thy self, off: a Bawd grown in mine old days?
Bawdry advanc'd upon my back? 'tis noble:
Sir, if you be a Souldier come no nearer,
She is sent to dispossess you of your honour,
A Spunge, a Spunge to wipe away your Victories:
And she would be cool'd, Sir, let the Souldiers trim her!
They'll give her that she came for, and dispatch her;
Be loyal to your self. Thou damned Woman,
Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes,
Thy flaunts, and faces to abuse mens manners?
And am I made the instrument of Bawdry?
I'll find a Lover for ye, one that shall hug ye.
_Caes._ Hold, on thy life, and be more temperate,
Thou Beast.
_Sce._ Thou Beast?
_Caes._ Could'st thou be so inhumane,
So far from noble Men, to draw thy Weapon
Upon a thing divine?
_Sce._ Divine, or humane,
They are never better pleas'd, nor more at hearts ease,
Than when we draw with full intent upon 'em.
_Caes._ Move this way (Lady)
'Pray ye let me speak to ye.
_Sce._ And Woman, you had best stand.
_Caes._ By the gods,
But that I see her here, and hope her mortal,
I should imagine some celestial sweetness,
The treasure of soft love.
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