_A burned street in Rome: night._
_THRASEA._
In these burned streets I wander like a ghost:
Rome is no more: O see, my memoried Rome,
My senatorial city is burned and gone! 1101
The city of Camillus, whose abrupt
And tortuous streets my ancestors have threaded,
Here going about a tower of Servius,
Here an Etruscan temple of carved wood,
Here by some patriot tribune’s gabled home:
All gone, as the free spirit that made it, gone:
And I, like this old beam, in vain escaped
The burning, shall be cast out, nor find place
In the new Rome that Cæsar promises,
O’erlaid with perfected monotony,
The textbook ornaments of shallow taste,
Imperial gewgaws.—What poet was it said
That Desolation was a beautiful thing?
What parricidal spirit? To cut down
And burn the gnarl’d trunk of a thousand years,
And plant the trifling shoot of one gay summer
Rootless in the ground. (_Cries heard._) What noise is this?
Some wretched Christian, that in blind revenge
The maddened people sacrifice.
_Enter the mob carrying off Clitus—Epicharis following._
_MOB._
Burn him! To the Vatican! to the Vatican! Burn him!
_EPICHARIS._
Pity, pity, pity, sirs! He is guiltless, indeed he is guiltless. He is
my brother.
_Thr._ Stay, ye mad fools! To what detestable,
Forbidden crime of hellish witchcraft haste ye!
_Mob._ Here’s another. He’s a Christian. Seize him!
_Thr._ Hands off, fools! I am Thrasea.
_Mob._ Thrasea! 1130
_Thr._ Are ye Romans?
_Citizen._ ’Tis Nero’s order.
_Ep._ (_kneeling to Thrasea_). O sir, save thou my brother.
_Cit._ If thou wert Thrasea, man, thou wouldst not hinder us from
punishing them that fired the city.
_Mob._ On! on!
_Another Cit._ Nay, nor let any Christian woman touch thee.
_Mob._ To the Vatican! on! (_Going._)
_Thr._ Fools, I am Thrasea, and I bid you stay.
_Mob._ Burn him, burn him! [_Exeunt Mob, etc._
_Thr._ Stay! Are ye men?
_Ep._ O sir, ’tis my brother, my brother Clitus; save him!
_Thr._ What can I do? Alas, (_calls_) stay! stay! (_To Ep._) Thou
seest. [_Exeunt running._
_Enter Lateranus and Flavus._
_LATERANUS._
This is the only way. The Fabian street
Is blocked with red-hot ashes.
_FLAVUS._
Where’s this Natalis?
_Lat._ He should be here; we must wait for him.
_Fla._ You trust him, sir?
_Lat._ Yes.
_Fla._ And Piso?
_Lat._ Certainly.
_Fla._ It is hard, sir, for a man like me, to trust a man like Piso.
I yield to the choice of my betters, and the vote of the majority. I
would not split the party. Yet I wish we had persuaded Seneca!
_Lat._ So do I, and it cost him a pang to refuse. ’Twas only Thrasea’s
opinion that overweighted him.
_Fla._ Priscus ruined us.
_Lat._ There’s no choice for us now; and I doubt not we can make Piso
emperor. He hath a wider following than Seneca. But when we have set
him up, ’twill be in the power of any to pull him down.
_Fla._ And then Seneca: why not Seneca then?
_Lat._ Hush! who comes?
_Fla._ ’Tis Rufus.
_Enter Rufus._
_RUFUS._
Good evening, gentlemen; go you to Petronius’?
_Fla._ We do, general. 1171
_Lat._ We wait for Natalis.
_Ruf._ Flavus, I’m glad of thee; hast thou heard of any new adherents?
_Fla._ Too many, general: and not the least some of Cæsar’s bosom
friends.
_Ruf._ Who are they?
_Fla._ There’s Scevinus, hot as fire, who drags with him Senecio and
Quintian, with one or two more filibustering fellows.
_Ruf._ The household contingent should help us when we come to close
quarters.
_Fla._ If they are to be trusted.
_Ruf._ If a man cannot be trusted to hate Nero for a week or ten days,
there’s little to reckon on in this world.
_Lat._ Here is Natalis.
_Enter Natalis._
_NATALIS._
All’s well. Piso is at Petronius’s.
_Ruf._ Hath he consented to head our party?
_Nat._ Yes, believe me. But you will find him cautious and delicate in
speaking of it.
_Fla._ If he speak not, how shall we trust him? He may turn on us.
_Nat._ My life for yours; my assurance; what oath you will ...
_Ruf._ We know, Natalis, thou art a man of honour,
One that would not deceive us, wert thou not
As heartily with us as I know thou art.
_Nat._ I am much hurt that Flavus questions Piso.
_Ruf._ He knows not, sir, the perfect intimacy
’Twixt Piso and thee. For my part, I should think
Piso unreliable, if I should find him 1201
Hasty and indiscreet in such a matter.
_Fla._ I use but the same caution.
_Nat._ I do not blame you:
But be assured he is won.—My part is done.
Go you and prosper. Farewell, sirs. (_Going._)
_All._ Farewell. [_Exit Natalis._
_Ruf._ ’Tis good, now let us to Petronius’. [_Exeunt._