Sej. 
   And why would you
   Conceal this from me, now?  Come, what is Livia? 
   I know she’s quick and quaintly spirited,
   And will have strange thoughts, when she is at leisure: 
   She tells them all to you.

Eud. 
   My noblest lord,
   He breathes not in the empire, or on earth. 
   Whom I would be ambitious to serve
   In any act, that may preserve mine honour,
   Before your lordship.

Sej. 
   Sir, you can lose no honour,
   By trusting aught to me.  The coarsest act
   Done to my service, I can so requite,
   As all the world shall style it honourable: 
   Your idle, virtuous definitions,
   Keep honour poor, and are as scorn’d as vain: 
   Those deeds breathe honour that do suck in gain.

Eud. 
   But, good my lord, if I should thus betray
   The counsels of my patient, and a lady’s
   Of her high place and worth; what might your lordship,
   Who presently are to trust me with your own,
   Judge of my faith?

Sej. 
   Only the best I swear. 
   Say now that I should utter you my grief,
   And with it the true cause; that it were love,
   And love to Livia; you should tell her this: 
   Should she suspect your faith; I would you could
   Tell me as much from her; see if my brain
   Could be turn’d jealous.

Eud. 
   Happily, my lord,
   I could in time tell you as much and more;
   So I might safely promise but the first
   To her from you.

Sej. 
   As safely, my Eudemus,
   I now dare call thee so, as I have put
   The secret into thee.

Eud.  My lord—–­

Sej. 
   Protest not,
   Thy looks are vows to me; use only speed,
   And but affect her with Sejanus’ love,
   Thou art a man, made to make consuls.  Go.

Eud. 
   My lord, I’ll promise you a private meeting
   This day together.

Sej.  Canst thou?

Eud.  Yes.

Sej.  The place?

Eud. 
   My gardens, whither I shall fetch your lordship

Sej;
   Let me adore my AEsculapius. 
   Why, this indeed is physic! and outspeaks
   The knowledge of cheap drugs, or any use
   Can be made out of it! more comforting
   Than all your opiates, juleps, apozems,
   Magistral syrups, or—–­ Be gone, my friend,
   Not barely styled, but created so;
   Expect things greater than thy largest hopes,
   To overtake thee:  Fortune shall be taught
   To know how ill she hath deserv’d thus long,
   To come behind thy wishes.  Go, and speed. [Exit Eudemus. 
   Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need. 
   These fellows, by the favour of their art,
   Have still the means to tempt; oft-times the power. 
   If Livia will be now corrupted, then
   Thou hast the way, Sejanus, to work out
   His secrets, who, thou know’st,