University of Virginia Library

THE FIRST SCENE.

Nutrix. Poppea,
From out of spousal bower dismayd with feare,
Whither go you? what secrets daughter deare
Unknowen, makes you to looke so drousely?
Why spungelike lokes your face wt tears frō eye
That fell? of truth the tyme desyred long,
And wished for by prayers, and vowes among
Hath shyned bright. Cæsars wedlock are you:
Your golden grace, wherof he tooke the view.
Him prisoner caught, and did him surely bynde,
So much the more, how much Senec his mynd
Did seeke to chaunge, and wild from loue to weeld.
And Venus chiefe in loue hath made him yeeld.
O in beauty passing all, what beds then downe
More soft, haue borne thy weight when thou with crowne
Didst sit in middes of court the Senate all.
At thy great beauty agast, thou didst appall.
Whylst thou the Goddes with perfume sendest fyne,
And sacred alters drencht with thankful wyne,
Thy head attyrd with veyle of yellow hiew
By Cæsars side thou wentst as princesse new:
When he aloft extold aboue the rest,
With hauty courage merily went to feast.
Like as kyng Peleus went sometymes to take
Queene Tethis, whom salt seas fome bred, his make.
Whose bridinge chambers, banquet wise ydrest,
The Gods vouchsaft to hallow with their hest,
Both they that rule in skyes and eake in Seas.
But tel, O Lady, tell, if it you please,
What sodayne chaūce doth shade your beautyes light.
What meanes your colour chaūge from red to white?
What moues those trickling tears, how standes your plight?
Po.
With dreames, and griesly sightes, this last night, Nurse,
My mynd was troubled sore, but frayd much worse.
For when sir Phœbe his weary course had ryd,
Whyle quiet restyng night each thing shadid,
My sences weary fel in slumber deepe,
Whyle Nero me within his armes did cleepe.
Resoluing lims, at length gan sleepe discharge,
And long I rest not vnder quiets targe,
For loe, I saw a route that brought me feare,
Come to my chaumber with disheueled hayre:
The Matrons sage of Latin land did mourne,
And sounded shryking sighes as though forlorne
They were, the dolefulst wightes that liue on ground.
And oft among the warlike trumpets sound,
I sawe my husbands mother teribly stand,
With threatning looke berayed with bloud in hand
A light fyre brand she bare which oft she shooke,
And made mee goe with her through feareful loke.
When downe we came through op'ned earth shee led
The way, I after went with bowing hed,
And musing much therat, marke what I say,
My bed, me thought I saw, wherin I laye,
When first espousde I was to Rufe Chrispyne:
And hee me thought, with first sonne of his lyne,
With many following them agaynst me fast
Did come, and me to cleepe did swift his hast,
And as he wonted was he kist me oft,
Then rusht into my house with pace not soft
Amased Nero sore, in Chryspines breast
That hidde his faulchion kene: feare shakte of rest
From mee: I trembling stode with quiuering feare,
And brest dismayd to speake made me forbeare.
Til now (O Nurse) I met with thee, whose trust,
And fayth into these wordes haue made me brust.
Alas, what threatneth mee eche griesly spright?
What meanes of husbands bloud that doleful sight?

Nu.

Pop.
To temples hie where mighty Gods do dwell,
I wil repayre, and offringes to them fell
In humble wyse their heauy wrath t'ppease,
And me of mighty sight, and dreams to ease.
My second wish shal be, that this feare all
Uppon my foes as sodayne chaunce may fall.
O Nurse pray thou for mee some vowes do make
Toth' Gods, that ghostly feare his flight may take.