 | Octavia (1581) |  |
THE FIFTE SCEANE.
Præfectus: Nero.
The
vulgare peoples rash vnruly rage
The slaughter of a fewe did sone asswage,
Which long wtstode our valiant force in vain,
To tel your grace this newes, I come againe,
Nero.
The slaughter of a fewe did sone asswage,
Which long wtstode our valiant force in vain,
To tel your grace this newes, I come againe,
And is this then ynough, dost thou so well,
O souldiour marke what doth thy captaine tell?
Hast thou with held thy hand frou bloudy yre?
Is this the due reuenge that we requyre?
Præ.
The captaine guides of treason payd their hyre,
By desperate death of bloudy sword in fight.
The route which sought with flaming fyre to light,
Ner.
Our royall Pallace great, who would assigne
Their Prince what he should doe: and pull in fine
Our mate from vs dissoluing wedlocke bandes:
Whose hardy slaunderous tongs, & wicked handes,
Hir princely grace reprochfully withstandes,
From due reuenge, are they dismissed free?
Præ.
Shall subiectes payne, by griefe assigned bee?
Ner.
It shall assigne which time shall neuer weare.
Præ.
Which neither wrath may end, nor yet your fear?
[184]
Shee shall appease our hie displeased minde,
Who fiyrst, our wrath deserued due to finde.
Præf.
Declare whose death your moode doth most require
Let not my hande be stayde from your desire.
Ner.
It seekes our sisters death, and trayterous hed.
Præ.
Those words through all my lims, hath stifnesse spred,
Opprest with griesly feare:
Ner:
Us to obay.
Stands thou in doubt?
Præf.
On fayth why do you lay
So great a fault?
Ner.
Bycause thou sparedst our foe.
Præf.
Deserues a woman to be termed so?
Nero.
If treason she begin.
Præ.
Is any man
So sure, that hir accuse of treason can?
Ner.
The peoples rage:
Præf.
Those madde unweldye wights
Who order could?
Ne.
Who could stir vp their sprits?
Præ
No creature as I thincke.
Ner.
A woman could,
In whome a mind Dame nature hath vpfould,
To mischiefe prone: shee armed hath hir heart,
To hurt by wyles: yet strength shee set apart,
Least shee vndaunted force with hir should beare:
But now hir slender power with doubting feare,
Is quickly quaylde, or else with punishment,
Which hir condemned state to mischiefe bent
To late doth ende: away with graue aduise,
Us with entreating seeke not to entyse.
Dispatch that we commaund on shipboorde borne,
Farre off to shore aloofe with dashing worne,
Commaund shee be: that tunlike swelling brest
At length in storming stomack may take rest.
| Octavia (1581) | |