2, 3 & 4 _Rom_. O _Nero, Appollo, Nero, Hercules!
[Exeunt 2, 3 & 4 Rom.
Manet Primus_.
1 _Rom_. Whether _Augustus_ Triumph greater was
I cannot tell; his Triumphs cause, I know,
Was greater farre and farre more Honourable.
What are wee People, or our flattering voyces
That always shame and foolish things applaud,
Having no sparke of Soule? All eares and eyes,
Pleased with vaine showes, deluded by our sences,
Still enemies to wisedome and to goodnesse.
[_Exit_.
(SCENE 3.)
Enter _Nero, Poppea, Nimphidius, Epaphroditus,
Neophilus_ and others.
_Nero_. Now, fayre _Poppea_, see thy Nero shine
In bright _Achaias_ spoyles and Rome in him.
The _Capitall_ hath other Trophies seene
Then it was wont; not spoyles with blood bedew'd
Or the unhappy obsequies of Death,
But such as _Caesars_ cunning, not his force,
Hath wrung from _Greece_ too bragging of her art.
_Tigell_. And in this strife the glories all your owne,
Your tribunes cannot share this prayse with you;
Here your _Centurions_ hath no part at all,
Bootless your Armies and your Eagles were;
No Navies helpt to bring away this conquest.
_Nimph_. Even Fortunes selfe, Fortune the Queene of Kingdomes,
That Warrs grim valour graceth with her deeds,
Will claime no portion in this Victorie.
_Nero_. Not _Bacchus_[7] drawn from Nisa downe with Tigers,
Curbing with viny rains their wilful heads
Whilst some doe gape upon his Ivy Thirse,
Some on the dangling grapes that crowne his head,
All praise his beautie and continuing youth;
So strooke amased India with wonder
As _Neroes_ glories did the Greekish townes,
_Elis_ and _Pisa_ and the rich _Micenae,
Junonian Argos_ and yet _Corinth_ proud
Of her two Seas; all which ore-come did yeeld
To me their praise and prises of their games.
_Poppea_. Yet in your _Greekish_ iourney, we do heare,
_Sparta_ and _Athens_, the two eyes of _Greece_,
Neither beheld your person or your skill;
Whether because they did afford no games
Or for their too much gravitie.
_Nero_. Why, what
Should I have seene in them? but in the one
Hunger, black pottage and men hot to die
Thereby to rid themselves of misery:
And what in th'other? but short Capes, long Beards;
Much wrangling in things needlesse to be knowne,
Wisedome in words and onely austere faces.
I will not be Aieceleaus nor Solon.
Nero was there where he might honour win;
And honour hath he wonn and brought from _Greece_
Those spoyles which never Roman could obtaine,
Spoyles won by witt and _Tropheis_ of his skill.
_Nimph_. What a thing he makes it to be a Minstrill!
_Poppea_. I prayse your witt, my Lord, that choose such safe
Honors, safe spoyles, won without dust or blood.
_Nero_. What, mock ye me, _Poppea_?
_Poppea_. Nay, in good faith, my Lord, I speake in earnest:
I hate that headie and adventurous crew
That goe to loose their owne to purchase but
The breath of others and the common voyce;
Them that will loose their hearing for a sound,
That by death onely seeke to get a living,
Make skarrs there beautie and count losse of Limmes
The commendation of a proper man,
And soe goe halting to immortality--
Such fooles I love worse then they doe their lives.
_Nero_. But now, _Poppea_, having laid apart
Our boastfull spoyles and ornaments of Triumph,
Come we like _Jove_ from _Phlegra_--
_Poppea_. O Giantlike comparison!
_Nero_. When after all his Fiers and wandering darts
He comes to bath himselfe in _Juno's_ eyes.
But thou, then wrangling _Juno_ farre more fayre,
Stayning the evening beautie of the Skie
Or the dayes brightnesse, shall make glad thy _Caesar_,
Shalt make him proud such beauties to Inioy.
[_Exeunt_.
_Manet Nimphidius solus_.
_Nimph_. Such beauties to inioy were happinesse
And a reward sufficient in itselfe,
Although no other end or hopes were aim'd at;
But I have other: tis not _Poppeas_ armes
Nor the short pleasures of a wanton bed
That can extinguish mine aspiring thirst
To _Neroes_ Crowne. By her love I must climbe,
Her bed is but a step unto his Throne.
Already wise men laugh at him and hate him;
The people, though his Mynstrelsie doth please them,
They feare his cruelty, hate his exactions,
Which his need still must force him to encrease;
The multitude, which cannot one thing long
Like or dislike, being cloy'd with vanitie
Will hate their own delights; though wisedome doe not
Even wearinesse at length will give them eyes.
Thus I, by _Neroes_ and _Poppeas_ favour
Rais'd to the envious height of second place,
May gaine the first. Hate must strike Nero downe,
Love make _Nimphidius_ way unto a Crowne.
[_Exit_.
(SCENE 4.)
_Enter Seneca, Scevinus, Lucan and Flavius_.
_Scevin_. His first beginning was his Fathers death;
His brothers poysoning and wives bloudy end
Came next; his mothers murther clos'd up all.
Yet hitherto he was but wicked, when
The guilt of greater evills tooke away the shame
Of lesser, and did headlong thrust him forth
To be the scorne and laughter to the world.
Then first an Emperour came upon the stage
And sung to please Carmen and Candle-sellers,
And learnt to act, to daunce, to be a Fencer,
And in despight o'the Maiestie of Princes
He fell to wrastling and was soyl'd with dust
And tumbled on the earth with servile hands.
_Seneca_. He sometimes trayned was in better studies
And had a child-hood promis'd other hopes:
High fortunes like stronge wines do trie their vessels.
Was not the Race and Theatre bigge enough
To have inclos'd thy follies heere at home?
O could not _Rome_ and _Italie_ containe
Thy shame, but thou must crosse the seas to shewe it?
_Scevin_. And make them that had wont to see our Consuls,
With conquering Eagles waving in the field,
Instead of that behold an Emperor dauncing,
Playing oth' stage and what else but to name
Were infamie.
_Lucan_. O _Mummius_, O _Flaminius_,
You whom your vertues have not made more famous
Than _Neros_ vices, you went ore to Greece
But t'other warres, and brought home other conquests;
You _Corinth_ and _Micaena_ overthrew,
And _Perseus_ selfe, the great _Achilles_ race,
Orecame; having _Minervas_ stayned Temples
And your slayne Ancestors of Troy reveng'd.
_Seneca_. They strove with Kings and Kinglike adversaries,
Were even in their Enemies made happie;
The _Macedonian_ Courage tryed of old
And the new greatnesse of the _Syrian_ power:
But he for _Phillip_ and _Antiochus_
Hath found more easie enemies to deale with--
_Terpnus_,[8] _Pammenes_,[9] and a rout of Fidlers.
_Scevin_. Why, all the begging Mynstrills by the way
He tooke along with him and forc'd to strive
That he might overcome, Imagining
Himselfe Immortall by such victories.
_Flav_. The Men he carried over were enough
T'have put the Parthian to his second flight
Or the proud Indian taught the Roman Yoke.
_Scevin_. But they were _Neroes_ men, like _Nero_ arm'd
With Lutes and Harps and Pipes and Fiddle-cases,
Souldyers to th'shadow traynd and not the field.
_Flav_. Therefore they brought spoyles of such Soldyers worthy.
_Lucan_. But to throw downe the walls[10] and Gates of Rome
To make an entrance for an Hobby-horse;
To vaunt to th'people his rediculous spoyles;
To come with Lawrell and with Olyves crown'd
For having beene the worst of all the Singers,
Is beyond Patience.
_Scevin_. I, and anger too.
Had you but seene him in his Chariot ryde,
That Chariot in which _Augustus_ late
His Triumphs ore so many Nations shew'd,
And with him in the same a Minstrell plac'd
The whil'st the people, running by his side,
'_Hayle thou Olimpick Conqueror_' did cry,
'_O haile thou Pithian_!' and did fill the sky
With shame and voices Heaven would not have heard.
_Seneca_. I saw't, but turn'd away my eyes and eares,
Angry they should be privie to such sights.
Why do I stand relating of the storie
Which in the doing had enough to grieve me?
Tell on and end the tale, you whom it pleaseth;
Mee mine own sorrow stops from further speaking.
_Nero_, my love doth make thy fault and my griefe greater.
[_Ex. Sen_.
_Scevin_. I doe commend in Seneca this passion;
And yet me thinkes our Countries miserie
Doth at our hands crave somewhat more then teares.
_Lucan_. Pittie, though't doth a kind affection show,
If it end there, our weaknesse makes us know.
_Flav_. Let children weepe and men seeke remedie.
_Scevin_. Stoutly, and like a soldier, _Flavius_;
Yet to seeke remedie to a Princes ill
Seldome but it doth the Phisitian kill.
_Flav_. And if it doe, _Scevinus_, it shall take
But a devoted soule from _Flavius_,
Which to my Countrey and the Gods of Rome
Alreadie sacred is and given away.
Deathe is no stranger unto me, I have
The doubtfull hazard in twelve Battailes throwne;
My chaunce was life.
_Lucan_. Why doe we go to fight in Brittanie
And end our lives under another Sunne?
Seeke causelesse dangers out? The German might
Enioy his Woods and his owne Allis drinke,
Yet we walke safely in the streets of Rome;
_Bonduca_ hinders not but we might live,
Whom we do hurt. Them we call enemies,
And those our Lords that spoyle and murder us.
_Scevin_. Nothing is hard to them that dare to die.
This nobler resolution in you, Lords,
Heartens me to disclose some thoughts that I--
The matter is of waight and dangerous.
_Lucan_. I see you feare us _Scaevinus_.[11]
_Scevin_. Nay, nay, although the thing be full of feare.
_Flav_. Tell it to faithfull Eares what eare it bee.
_Scevin_. Faith, let it goe, it will but trouble us,
Be hurtfull to the speaker and the hearer.
_Lucan_. If our long friendship or the opinion--
_Scevin_. Why should I feare to tell them?
Why, is he not a Parricide a Player?
Nay, _Lucan_, is he not thine Enemie?
Hate not the Heavens as well as men to see
That condemn'd head? And you, O righteous Gods,
Whither so ere you now are fled and will
No more looke downe upon th'oppressed Earth;
O severe anger of the highest Gods
And thou, sterne power to whom the Greekes assigne
Scourges and swords to punish proud mens wrongs,
If you be more then names found out to awe us
And that we doe not vainely build you alters,
Aid that iust arme that's bent to execute
What you should doe.
_Lucan_. Stay, y'are carried too much away, _Scevinus_.
_Scevin_. Why, what will you say for him? hath[12] he not
Sought to suppresse your Poem, to bereave
That honour every tongue in duty paid it.
Nay, what can you say for him, hath he not
Broacht his owne wives (a chast wives) breast and torne
With Scithian hands his Mothers bowels up?
The inhospitable _Caucasus_ is milde;
The More, that in the boyling desert seekes
With blood of strangers to imbrue his iawes,
Upbraides the Roman now with barbarousnesse.
_Lucan_. You are to earnest:
I neither can nor will I speake for him;
And though he sought my learned paynes to wrong
I hate him not for that; My verse shall live
When _Neroes_ body shall be throwne in Tiber,
And times to come shall blesse those[13] wicked armes.
I love th'unnatural wounds from whence did flow
Another Cirrha,[14] a new Hellicon.
I hate him that he is Romes enemie,
An enemie to Vertue; sits on high
To shame the seate: and in that hate my life
And blood I'le mingle on the earth with yours.
_Flav_. My deeds, _Scevinus_, shall speake my consent,
_Scevin_. Tis answerd as I lookt for, Noble Poet,
Worthy the double Lawrell. Flavius,
Good lucke, I see, doth vertuous meanings ayde,
And therefore have the Heavens forborne their duties
To grace our swords with glorious blood of Tyrants.
[_Exeunt_.
_Finis Actus Primi_.
_Actus Secundus_.
_Enter Petronius solus_.
Here waites _Poppea_ her _Nimphidius_ comming
And hath this garden and these walkes chose out
To blesse her with more pleasures then their owne.
Not only Arras hangings and silke beds[15]
Are guilty of the faults we blame them for:
Somewhat these arbors and you trees doe know
Whil'st your kind shades you to these night sports show.
Night sports? Faith, they are done in open day
And the Sunne see'th and envieth their play.
Hither have I Love-sicke _Antonius_ brought
And thrust him on occasion so long sought;
Shewed him the Empresse in a thicket by,
Her loves approach waiting with greedie Eye;
And told him, if he ever meant to prove
The doubtfull issue of his hopelesse Love,
This is the place and time wherein to try it;
Women will heere the suite that will deny it.
The suit's not hard that she comes for to take;
Who (hot in lust of men) doth difference make?
At last loath, willing, to her did he pace:
Arme him, _Priapus_, with thy powerfull Mace.
But see, they comming are; how they agree
Heere will I harken; shroud me, gentle tree.
_Enter Poppea and Antonius_.
_Anton_. Seeke not to grieve that heart which is thine owne.
In Loves sweete fires let heat of rage burne out;
These brows could never yet to wrinkle learne,
Nor anger out of such faire eyes look forth.
_Poppea_. You may solicit your presumptious suites;
You duety may, and shame too, lay aside;
Disturbe my privacie, and I forsooth
Must be afeard even to be angry at you!
_Anton_. What shame is't to be mastred by such beautie?
Who but to serve you comes, how wants he dutie?
Or, if it be a shame, the shame is yours;
The fault is onely in your Eies, they drew me:
Cause you were lovely therefore did I love.
O, if to Love you anger you so much,
You should not have such cheekes nor lips to touch,
You should not have your snow nor currall spy'd;--
If you but looke on us in vaine you chide.
We must not see your face, nor heare your speech;
Now, whilst you Love forbid, you Love do teach.
_Petron_. He doth better than I thought he would.
_Poppea_. I will not learne my beauties worth of you;
I know you neither are the first nor greatest
Whom it hath mov'd: He whom the World obayes
Is fear'd with anger of my threatening eyes.
It is for you afarre off to adore it,
And not to reach at it with sawsie hands:
Feare is the Love that's due to God and Princes.
_Petron_. All this is but to edge his appetite.
_Anton_. O doe not see thy faire in that false glasse
Of outward difference; Looke into my heart.
There shalt thou see thy selfe Inthroaned set
In greater Maiesty then all the pompe
Of _Rome_ or _Nero_. Tis not the crowching awe
And Ceremony with which we flatter Princes
That can to Loves true duties be compar'd.
_Poppea_. Sir, let me goe or He make knowne your Love
To them that shall requite it but with hate.
_Petron_. On, on, thou hast the goale; the fort is beaten;
Women are wonne when they begin to threaten.
_Anton_. Your Noblenesse doth warrant me from that,
Nor need you others helpe to punish me
Who by your forehead am condem'd or free.
They that to be revendg'd do bend their minde
Seeke always recompence in that same kind
The wrong was done them; Love was mine offence,
In that revenge, in that seeke recompence.
_Poppea_. Further to answere will still cause replyes,
And those as ill doe please me as your selfe.
If you'le an answere take that's breefe and true,
I hate my selfe if I be lov'd of you.
[_Exit Popp_.
_Petron_. What, gone? but she will come againe sure: no?
It passeth cleane my cunning, all my rules:
For Womens wantonnesse there is no rule.
To take her in the itching of her Lust,
A propper young man putting forth himselfe!
Why, Fate! there's Fate and hidden providence
In cod piece matters.
_Anton_. O unhappy Man!
What comfort have I now, _Petronius?_
_Petron_. Council your selfe; Ile teach no more but learne.
_Anton_. This comfort yet: He shall not so escape
Who causeth my disgrace, _Nimphidius_;
Whom had I here--Well, for my true-hearts love
I see she hates me. And shall I love one
That hates me, and bestowes what I deserve
Upon my rivall? No; farewell _Poppea_,
Farewell _Poppea_ and farewell all Love:
Yet thus much shall it still prevaile in me
That I will hate _Nimphidius_ for thee.
_Petron_. Farewell to her, to my _Enanthe_ welcome.
Who now will to my burning kisses stoope,
Now with an easie cruelty deny
That which she, rather then the asker, would
Have forced from her then begin[16] her selfe.
Their loves that list upon great Ladies set;
I still will love the Wench that I can get.
[_Exeunt_.
(SCENE 2.)
_Enter Nero, Tigellinus, Epaphroditus_, and _Neophilus_.
_Nero_. _Tigellinus_, said the villaine _Proculus_[17]
I was throwne downe in running?
_Tigell_. My Lord, he said that you were crown'd for that
You could not doe.
_Nero_. For that I could not doe?
Why, _Elis_ saw me doe't, and doe't it with wonder
Of all the Iudges and the lookers on;
And yet to see--A villaine! could not doe't?
Who did it better? I warrant you he said
I from the Chariot fell against my will.
_Tigell_. He said, My Lord, you were throwne out of it
All crusht and maim'd and almost bruis'd to death.
_Nero_. Malicious Rogue! when I fell willingly
To show of purpose with what little hurt
Might a good rider beare a forced fall.
How sayest thou, _Tigellinus_? I am sure
Thou hast in driving as much skill as he.
_Tigell_. My Lord, you greater cunning shew'd in falling
Then had you sate.
_Nero_. I know I did; or[18] bruised in my fall?
Hurt! I protest I felt no griefe in it.
Goe, _Tigellinus_, fetch the villaines head.
This makes me see his heart in other things.
Fetch me his head; he nere shall speake againe. [_Ex. Tigell_.
What doe we Princes differ from the durt
And basenesse of the common Multitude
If to the scorne of each malicious tongue
We subiect are: For that I had no skill,[19]
Not he that his farre famed daughter set
A prise to Victoria and had bin Crown'd
With thirteene Sutors deaths till he at length
By fate of Gods and Servants treason fell,
(Shoulder pack't[20] _Pelops_, glorying in his spoyles)
Could with more skill his coupled horses guide.
Even as a Barke that through the mooving Flood
Her linnen wings and the forc't ayre doe beare;
The Byllowes fome, she smoothly cutts them through;
So past my burning Axeltree along:
The people follow with their Eyes and Voyce,
And now the wind doth see it selfe outrun
And the Clouds wonder to be left behind,
Whilst the void ayre is fild with shoutes and noyse,
And _Neroes_ name doth beate the brazen Skie;
_Jupiter_ envying loath doth heare my praise.
Then their greene bowes and Crownes of Olive wreaths,
The Conquerors praise, they give me as my due.
And yet this Rogue sayth No, we have no skill.
_Enter a servant to them_.
_Servant_. My Lord, the Stage and all the furniture--
_Nero_. I have no skill to drive a Chariot!
Had he but robde me, broke my treasurie:
The red-Sea's mine, mine are the _Indian_ stones,
The Worlds mine owne; then cannot I be robde?
But spightfully to undermine my fame,
To take away my arte! he would my life
As well, no doubt, could he tould (tell?) how.
_Enter Tigellinus_ with _Proculus head_.
_Neoph_. My Lord,
_Tigellinus_ is backe come with _Proculus head_.
(_Strikes him_.)
_Nero_. O cry thee mercie, good _Neophilus_;
Give him five hundred sesterces for amends.
Hast brought him, Tigellinus?
_Tigell_. Heres his head, my Lord.
_Nero_. His tongue had bin enough.
_Tigell_. I did as you commanded me, my Lord.
_Nero_. Thou toldst not me, though, he had such a nose![21]
Now are you quiet and have quieted me:
This tis to be commander of the World.
Let them extoll weake pittie that do neede it,
Let meane men cry to have Law and Iustice done
And tell their griefes to Heaven that heares them not:
Kings must upon the Peoples headlesse courses
Walk to securitie and ease of minde.
Why, what have we to doe with th'ayrie names
(That old age and _Philosophers_ found out)
Of _Iustice_ and ne're certaine Equitie?
The God's revenge themselves and so will we;
Where right is scand Authoritie's orethrowne:
We have a high prerogative above it.
Slaves may do what is right, we what we please:
The people will repine and think it ill,
But they must beare, and praise too, what we will.
_Enter Cornutus[22] to them_.
_Neoph_. My Lord, _Cornutus_ whom you sent for's come.
_Nero_. Welcome, good _Cornutus_.
Are all things ready for the stage,
As I gave charge?
_Corn_. They only stay your coming.
_Nero_. _Cornutus_, I must act to day _Orestes_.
_Corn_. You have done that alreadie, and too truely. (_Aside_.)
_Nero_. And when our Sceane is done I meane besides
To read some compositions of my owne,
Which, for the great opinion I my selfe
And _Rome_ in generall of thy Judgment hath,
Before I publish them Ile shew them thee.
_Corn_. My Lord, my disabilities--
_Nero_. I know thy modestie:
Ile only shew thee now my works beginning.--
Goe see, _Epaphroditus_,
Musick made ready; I will sing to day.-- [_Exit Epa.
Cornutus_, I pray thee come neere
And let me heare thy Judgement in my paynes.
I would have thee more familiar, good _Cornutus_;
_Nero_ doth prise desert and more esteemes
Them that in knowledge second him, then power.
Marke with what style and state my worke begins.
_Corn_. Might not my Interruption offend,
Whats your workes name, my Lord? what write you of?
_Nero_. I meane to write the deeds of all the Romans.
_Corn_. Of all the Romans? A huge argument.
_Nero_. I have not yet bethought me of a title:--
(_he reades_,)
"_You Enthrall Powers which[23] the wide Fortunes doon
Of Empyre-crown'd seaven-Mountaine-seated Rome,
Full blowne Inspire me with_ Machlaean[24] _rage
That I may bellow out_ Romes _Prentisage;
As[25] when the_ Menades _do fill their Drums
And crooked hornes with_ Mimalonean _hummes
And_ Evion[26] _do Ingeminate around,
Which reparable Eccho doth resound_."
How doest thou like our Muses paines, _Cornutus_?
_Corn_. The verses have more in them than I see:
Your work, my Lord, I doubt will be too long.
_Nero_. Too long?
_Tigell_. Too long?
_Corn_. I, if you write the deedes of all the _Romans_.
How many Bookes thinke you t'include it in?
_Nero_. I thinke to write about foure hundred Bookes.
_Corn_. Four hundred! Why, my Lord, they'le nere be read.[27]
_Nero_. Hah!
_Tigell_. Why, he whom you esteeme so much, _Crisippus_,
Wrote many more.
_Corn_. But they were profitable to common life
And did Men Honestie and Wisedome teach.
_Nero_. _Tigellinus_!
[Exit _Nero and Tigell_.
_Corn_. See with what earnestnesse he crav'd my Judgment,
And now he freely hath it how it likes him.
_Neoph_. The Prince is angry, and his fall is neere;
Let us begon lest we partake his ruines.
[_Exeunt omnes praeter Cornu_.
_Manet Cornutus solus_.
What should I doe at Court? I cannot lye.
Why didst thou call me, _Nero_, from my Booke;
Didst thou for flatterie of _Cornutus_ looke?
No, let those purple Fellowes that stand by thee
(That admire shew and things that thou canst give)
Leave to please Truth and Vertue to please thee.
_Nero_, there is no thing in thy power _Cornutus_
Doth wish or fear.
_Enter Tigellinus to him_.
_Tigell_. Tis _Neroes_ pleasure that you straight depart
To _Giara_, and there remaine confin'd:
Thus he, out of his Princely Clemencie,
Hath Death, your due, turn'd but to banishment.
_Corn_. Why, _Tigellinus_?
_Tigell_. I have done, upon your perill go or stay.
[_Ex. Ti_.
_Corn_. And why should Death or Banishment be due
For speaking that which was requir'd, my thought?
O why doe Princes love to be deceiv'd
And even do force abuses on themselves?
Their Eares are so with pleasing speech beguil'd
That Truth they mallice, Flatterie truth account,
And their owne Soule and understanding lost
Goe, what they are, to seeke in other men.
Alas, weake Prince, how hast thou punisht me
To banish me from thee? O let me goe
And dwell in _Taurus_, dwell in _Ethiope_
So that I doe not dwell at _Rome_ with thee.
The farther still I goe from hence, I know,
The farther I leave Shame and Vice behind.
Where can I goe but I shall see thee, Sunne?
And _Heaven_ will be as neere me still as here.
Can they so farre a knowing soule exyle
That her owne roofe she sees not ore her head?
[_Exit_.
(SCENE 3.)
_Enter Piso, Scevinus, Lucan, Flavius_.
_Piso_. Noble Gentlemen, what thankes, what recompence
Shall hee give you that give to him the world?
One life to them that must so many venture,
And that the worst of all, is too meane paye;
Yet can give no more. Take that, bestow it
Upon your service.
_Lucan_. O _Piso_, that vouchsafest
To grace our headlesse partie with thy name,
Whom having our conductor[28] we need not
Have fear'd to goe against[29] the well try'd vallor
Of Julius or stayednesse of _Augustus_,
Much lesse the shame and Womanhood of _Nero_;
When we had once given out that our pretences
Were all for thee, our end to make thee Prince,
They thronging came to give their names, Men, Women,
Gentlemen, People, Soldiers, Senators,[30]
The Campe and Cittie grew asham'd that _Nero_
And _Piso_ should be offered them together.
_Scevin_. We seeke not now (as in the happy dayes
Oth' common wealth they did) for libertie;
O you deere ashes, _Cassius_ and _Brutus_,
That was with you entomb'd, their let it rest.
We are contented with the galling yoke
If they will only leave us necks to beare it:
We seeke no longer freedome, we seeke life;
At least, not to be murdred, let us die
On Enemies swords. Shall we, whom neither
The _Median_ Bow nor _Macedonian_ Speare
Nor the fierce _Gaul_ nor painted _Briton_ could
Subdue, lay down our neckes to tyrants axe?
Why doe we talke of Vertue that obay
Weaknesse and Vice?
_Piso_. Have patience, good _Scevinus_.
_Lucan_. Weaknesse and servile Government we hitherto
Obeyed have, which, that we may no longer,
We have our lives and fortunes now set up,
And have our cause with _Pisoes_ credit strengthned.
_Flav_. Which makes it doubtfull whether love to him
Or _Neroes_ hatred hath drawne more unto us.
_Piso_. I see the good thoughts you have of me, Lords.
Lets now proceede to th'purpose of our meeting:
I pray you take your places.
Lets have some paper brought.
_Scevin_. Whose within?
_Enter Milichus to them_.
_Mill_. My Lord.
_Scevin_. Some Inke and Paper.
[_Exit Mili_.
_Enter againe with Incke and Paper_.
_Flav_. Whose that, _Scevinus_?
_Scevin_. It is my freed man, _Milichus_.
_Lucan_. Is he trustie?
_Scevin_. I, for as great matters as we are about.
_Piso_. And those are great ones.
_Lucan_. I aske not that we meane to need his trust;
Gaine hath great soveraigntie ore servile mindes.
_Scevin_. O but my benefits have bound him to me.
I from a bondman have his state not onely
Advanct to freedome but to wealth and credit.
_Piso_. _Mili_. waite ith' next chamber till we call.
[_abscondit se_.
The thing determinde on, our meeting now
Is of the meanes and place, due circumstance
As to the doing of things: 'tis required
So done it names the action.[31]
_Mili_. I wonder (_aside_)
What makes this new resort to haunt our house.
When wonted _Lucius Piso_ to come hither,
Or _Lucan_ when so oft as now of late?
_Piso_. And since the field and open shew of armes
Disliked you, and that for the generall good
You meane to end all styrres in end of him;
That, as the ground, must first be thought upon.
_Mill_. Besides, this comming cannot be for forme, (_aside_)
Our (Mere?) visitation; they goe aside
And have long conferences by themselves.
_Lucan_. _Piso_, his coming to your house at Baiae[32]
To bathe and banquet will fit meanes afford,
Amidst his cups, to end his hated life:
Let him die drunke that nere liv'd soberly.
_Piso_. O be it farre that I should staine my Table
And Gods of Hospitalitie with blood.
Let not our cause (now Innocent) be soyld
With such a plot, nor _Pisoes_ name made hatefull.
What place can better fit our action
Then his owne house, that boundlesse envied heape
Built with the spoyles and blood of Cittizens,
That hath taken up the Citie, left no roome
For _Rome_ to stand on? _Romanes_ get you gone
And dwell at _Veiae_, if that _Veiae_ too
This (His?) house ore runne not.[33]
_Lucan_. But twill be hard to doe it in his house
And harder to escape, being done.
_Piso_. Not so:
_Rufus_, the Captaine of the Guard, 's with us,
And divers other oth' _Praetorian_ band
Already made (named?); many, though unacquainted
With our intents, have had disgrace and wrongs
Which grieve them still; most will be glad of change,
And even they that lov'd him best, when once
They see him gone, will smile oth' comming times,
Let goe things past and looke to their owne safetie:
Besides, th'astonishment and feare will be
So great, so sodaine that 'twill hinder them
From doing anything.
_Mili_. No private businesse can concerne them all: (_aside_)
Their countenances are troubled and looke sad;
Doubt and importance in their face is read.
_Lucan_. Yet still, I think it were
Safer t'attempt him private and alone.
_Flav_. But 'twill not carry that opinion with it;
'Twill seeme more foule and come from private malice.
_Brutus_ and they, to right the common cause,
Did chuse a publike place.
_Scevin_.[34] Our deed is honest, why should it seeke corners?
Tis for the people done, let them behold it;
Let me have them a witnesse of my truth
And love to th'Common-wealth. The danger's greater,
So is the glory. Why should our pale counsels
Tend whether feare rather then vertue calls them?
I doe not like these cold considerings.
First let our thoughts looke up to what is honest,
Next to what's safe. If danger may deterre us
Nothing that's great or good shall ere be done:
And, when we first gave hands upon this deed,
To th'common safetie we our owne gave up.
Let no man venture on a princes death,
How bad soever, with beliefe to escape;
Dispaire must be our hope, fame o[u]r reward.
To make the generall liking to concurre
With others (ours?) were even to strike him in his shame
Or (as he thinks) his glory, on the stage,
And so too truly make't a Tragedy;
When all the people cannot chuse but clap
So sweet a close, and 'twill not _Caesar_ be
That shall be slaine, a _Roman_ Prince;
Twill be _Alcmaeon_ or blind Oedipus.
_Mili_. And if it be of publique matters 'tis not (_aside_)
Like to be talke or idle fault finding,
On which the coward onely spends his wisedome:
These are all men of action and of spirit,
And dare performe what they determine on.
_Lucan_. What thinke you of _Poppaea, Tigellinus_
And th'other odious Instruments of Court?
Were it not best at once to rid them all?
_Scevin_. In _Caesars_ ruine _Anthony_ was spared;
Lets not our cause with needlesse blood distaine.
One onely mov'd, the change will not appeare;
When too much licence given to the sword,
Though against ill, will make even good men feare.
Besides, things setled, you at pleasure may
By Law and publique Iudgement have them rid.
_Mili_. And if it be but talke oth' State 'tis Treason. (_aside_)
Like it they cannot, that they cannot doe:
If seeke to mend it, and remoove the Prince,
That's highest Treason: change his Councellours,
That's alteration of the Government,
The common cloke that Treasons muffled in:
If laying force aside, to seeke by suite
And faire petition t'have the State reform'd,
That's tutering of the Prince and takes away
Th' one his person, this his Soveraigntie.
Barely in private talke to shew dislike
Of what is done is dangerous; therefore the action
Mislike you cause the doer likes you not.
Men are not fit to live ith' state they hate.
_Piso_. Though we would all have that imployment sought,
Yet, since your worthy forwardnesse _Scevinus_[35]
Prevents us and so Nobly beggs for danger,
Be this (thine?) the chosen hand to doe the deed;
The fortune of the Empire speed your sword.
_Scevin_. Vertue and Heaven speed it. You home-borne
Gods of our countrey, _Romulus_ and _Vesta_,
That _Thuscan Tiber_ and Romes towers defends,
Forbid not yet at length a happie end
To former evils; let this hand revenge
The wronged world; enough we now have suffered.
[_Exeunt_.
_Manet Milichus solus_.
_Mili_. Tush, all this long Consulting's more then words,
It ends not there; th'have some attempt, some plot
Against the state: well, I'le observe it farther
And, if I find it, make my profit of it.
[_Exit_.
_Finis Actus Secundus. [Sic.]_
_Actus Tertius_.
_Enter Poppea solus. [Sic.]_
_Poppea_. I lookt _Nimphidius_ would have come ere this.
Makes he no greater hast to our embraces,
Or doth the easiness abate his edge?
Or seeme we not as faire still as we did?
Or is he so with _Neroes_ playing wonne
That he before _Poppea_ doth preferre it?
Or doth he think to have occasion still,
Still to have time to waite on our stolne meetings?
_Enter Nimphidius to her_.
But see, his presence now doth end those doubts.
What is't, _Nimphidius_, hath so long detain'd you?
_Nimphid_. Faith, Lady, causes strong enough,
High walls, bard dores, and guards of armed men.
_Poppea_. Were you Imprisoned, then, as you were going
To the Theater?
_Nimphid_. Not in my going, Lady,
But in the Theater I was imprisoned.
For after he was once upon the Stage
The Gates[36] were more severely lookt into
Then at a town besieg'd: no man, no cause
Was Currant, no, nor passant. At other sights
The striefe is only to get in, but here
The stirre was all in getting out againe.
Had we not bin kept to it so I thinke
'Twould nere have been so tedious, though I know
'Twas hard to judge whether his doing of it
Were more absurd then 'twas for him[37] to doe it.
But when we once were forct to be spectators,
Compel'd to that which should have bin a pleasure,
We could no longer beare the wearisomnesse:
No paine so irksome as a forct delight.
Some fell down dead or seem'd at least to doe so,
Under that colour to be carried forth.
Then death first pleasur'd men, the shape all feare
Was put on gladly; some clomb ore the walls
And so, by falling, caught in earnest that
Which th'other did dissemble. There were women[38]
That (being not able to intreat the guard
To let them passe the gates) were brought to bed
Amidst the throngs of men, and made _Lucina_
Blush to see that unwonted companie.
_Poppea_. If 'twere so straightly kept how got you forth?
_Nimphid_. Faith, Lady, I came pretending hast
In Face and Countenance, told them I was sent
For things bith' Prince forgot about the sceane,
Which both my credit made them to beleeve
And _Nero_ newly whispered me before.
Thus did I passe the gates; the danger, Ladie,
I have not yet escapt.
_Poppea_. What danger meane you?
_Nimphid_. The danger of his anger when he knowes
How I thus shranke away; for there stood knaves,
That put downe in their Tables all that stir'd
And markt in each there cheerefulnesse or sadnesse.
_Poppea_. I warrant He excuse you; but I pray
Lett's be a little better for your sight.
How did our Princely husband act _Orestes_?
Did he not wish againe his mother living?
Her death would adde great life unto his part.
But come, I pray; the storie of your sight.
_Nimph_. O doe not drive me to those hatefull paines.
Lady, I was too much in seeing vext;
Let it not be redoubled with the telling.
I now am well and heare, my eares set free;
O be mercifull, doe not bring me backe
Unto my prison, at least free your selfe.
It will not passe away, but stay the time;
Wracke out the houres in length. O give me leave:
As one that wearied with the toyle at sea
And now on wished shore hath firm'd his foote,
He lookes about and glads his thoughts and eyes
With sight oth' greene cloath'd ground and leavy trees,
Of flowers that begge more then the looking on,
And likes these other waters narrow shores;
So let me lay my wearines in these armes,
Nothing but kisses to this mouth discourse,
My thoughts be compast in those circl'd Eyes,
Eyes on no obiect looke but on these Cheekes;
Be blest my hands with touch of those round brests
Whiter and softer than the downe of Swans.
Let me of thee and of thy beauties glory
An[39] endless tell, but never wearying story.
[_Exeunt_.
(SCENE 2.)
_Enter Nero, Epaphroditus, Neophilus_.
_Nero_. Come Sirs, I faith, how did you like my acting?
What? wast not as you lookt for?
_Epaphr_. Yes, my Lord, and much beyond.
_Nero_. Did I not doe it to the life?
_Epaphr_. The very doing never was so lively
As was this counterfeyting.
_Nero_. And when I came
Toth' point of _Agripp[40]--Clytemnestras_ death,
Did it not move the feeling auditory?
_Epaphr_. They had beene stones whom that could not have mov'd.
_Nero_. Did not my voice hold out well to the end,
And serv'd me afterwards afresh to sing with?
_Neoph_. We know _Appollo_ cannot match your voice.
_Epaphr_. By Jove! I thinke you are the God himselfe
Come from above to shew your hidden arts
And fill us men with wonder of your skill.
_Nero_. Nay, faith, speake truely, doe not flatter me;
I know you need not; flattery's but where
Desert is meane.
_Epaphr_. I sweare by thee, O _Caesar_,
Then whom no power of heaven I honour more,
No mortall Voice can passe or equall thine.
_Nero_. They tell of _Orpheus_, when he tooke his Lute
And moov'd the noble Ivory with his touch,
_Hebrus_ stood still, _Pangea_ bow'd his head,
_Ossa_ then first shooke off his snowe and came
To listen to the moovings of his song;
The gentle _Popler_ tooke the baye along,
And call'd the _Pyne_ downe from his Mountaine seate;
The _Virgine Bay_, although the Arts she hates
Oth' _Delphick_ God, was with his voice orecome;
He his twice-lost _Euridice_ bewailes
And _Proserpines_ vaine gifts, and makes the shores
And hollow caves of forrests now untreed
Beare his griefe company, and all things teacheth
His lost loves name; Then water, ayre, and ground
_Euridice, Euridice_ resound.
These are bould tales, of which the Greeks have store;
But if he could from Hell once more returne
And would compare his hand and voice with mine,
I, though himselfe were iudge, he then should see
How much the _Latine_ staines the _Thracian_ lyar.
I oft have walkt by _Tibers_ flowing bankes
And heard the Swan sing her own epitaph:
When she heard me she held her peace and died.
Let others raise from earthly things their praise;
Heaven hath stood still to hear my happy ayres
And ceast th'eternall Musicke of the _Spheares_
To marke my voyce and mend their tunes by mine.
_Neoph_. O divine voice!
_Epaphr_. Happy are they that heare it!
_Enter Tigellinus to them_.
_Nero_. But here comes _Tigellinus_; come, thy bill.
Are there so many? I see I have enemies.
_Epaphr_. Have you put _Caius_ in? I saw him frowne.
_Neoph_. And in the midst oth' Emperors action.
_Gallus_ laught out, and as I thinke in scorne.
_Nero_. _Vespasian_[41] too asleepe? was he so drowsie?
Well, he shall sleepe the Iron sleepe of death.
And did _Thrasea_ looke so sourely on us?
_Tigell_. He never smilde, my Lord, nor would vouchsafe
With one applause to grace your action.
_Nero_. Our action needed not be grac'd by him:
Hee's our old enemie and still maligns us.
'Twill have an end, nay it shall have an end.
Why, I have bin too pittifull, too remisse;
My easinesse is laught at and contemn'd.
But I will change it; not as heretofore
By singling out them one by one to death:
Each common man can such revenges have;
A Princes anger must lay desolate
Citties, Kingdomes consume, Roote up mankind.
O could I live to see the generall end,
Behold the world enwrapt in funerall flame,
When as the _Sunne_ shall lend his beames to burne
What he before brought forth, and water serve
Not to extinguish but to nurse the fire;
Then, like the _Salamander_, bathing me
In the last Ashes of all mortall things
Let me give up this breath. _Priam_ was happie,
Happie indeed; he saw his _Troy_ burnt
And _Illion_ lye on heapes, whilst thy pure streames
(Divine _Scamander_) did run _Phrygian_ blood,
And heard the pleasant cries of _Troian_ mothers.
Could I see _Rome_ so!
_Tigell_. Your Maiestie may easily,
Without this trouble to your sacred mind.
_Nero_. What may I easily doe? Kill thee or him:
How may I rid you all? Where is the Man
That will all others end and last himselfe?
O that I had thy Thunder in my hand,
Thou idle Rover, I'de[42] not shoote at trees
And spend in woods my unregarded vengeance,
Ide shevire them downe upon their guilty roofes
And fill the streetes with bloody burials.
But 'tis not Heaven can give me what I seeke;
To you, you hated kingdomes of the night,
You severe powers that not like those above
Will with faire words or childrens cryes be wonne,
That have a stile beyond that Heaven is proud off,
Deriving not from Art a makers Name
But in destruction power and terror shew,
To you I flye for succour; you, whose dwellings
For torments are belyde, must give me ease.
Furies, lend me your fires; no, they are here,
They must be other fires, materiall brands
That must the burning of my heat allay.
I bring to you no rude unpractiz'd hands,
Already doe they reeke with mothers' blood.
Tush, that's but innocent[43] to what now I meane:
Alasse, what evell could those yeeres commit!
The world in this shall see my setled wit.
[_Exeunt_.
(SCENE 3.)
_Enter Seneca, Petronius_.
_Seneca. Petronius_, you were at the _Theater_?
_Petron_. _Seneca_, I was, and saw your Kingly Pupyll
In Mynstrills habit stand before the Iudges
Bowing those hands which the worlds Scepter hold,
And with great awe and reverence beseeching
Indifferent hearing and an equall doome.
Then Caesar doubted first to be oreborne;
And so he ioyn'd himselfe to th'other singers
And straightly all other Lawes oth' Stage observ'd,
As not (though weary) to sit downe, not spit,
Not wipe his sweat off but with what he wore.[44]
Meane time how would he eye his adversaries,
How he would seeke t'have all they did disgract;
Traduce them privily, openly raile at them;
And them he could not conquer so he would
Corrupt with money to doe worse then he.
This was his singing part: his acting now.
_Seneca_. Nay, even end here, for I have heard enough;
I[45] have a Fidler heard him, let me not
See him a Player, nor the fearefull voyce
Of _Romes_ great Monarch now command in Iest--
Our Prince be _Agamemnon_[46] in a Play!
_Petron_. Why,[47] _Seneca_, 'Tis better in [a] Play
Be _Agamemnon_ than himselfe indeed.
How oft, with danger of the field beset
Or with home mutineys, would he unbee
Himselfe; or, over cruel alters weeping,
Wish that with putting off a vizard hee
Might his true inward sorrow lay aside.
The showes of things are better then themselves.
How doth it stirre this ayery part of us
To heare our Poets tell imagin'd fights
And the strange blowes that fained courage gives!
When I[48] _Achilles_ heare upon the Stage
Speake Honour and the greatnesse of his soule,
Me thinkes I too could on a _Phrygian_ Speare
Runne boldly and make tales for after times;
But when we come to act it in the deed
Death mars this bravery, and the ugly feares
Of th'other world sit on the proudest browe,
And boasting Valour looseth his red cheeke.
_A Romane to them_.
_Rom_. Fire, fire! helpe, we burne!