 | The Tragedy of Nero |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Nero, Poppæa, Nimphidius, Tigellinus, Neophitus, and Epaphroditus.Nero:
This kisse sweet loue, Ile force from thee and this,
And of such spoiles, and victories be prowder,
Then if I had the fierce Panonian,
Or gray-eyd German ten times ouercome.
Let Iulius goe, and fight at end oth'world,
And conquer from the wilde inhabitants
Their cold, and pouerty; whilest Nero, here,
Makes other warres, warres where the conquerd gaines,
O willingly, I giue my freedome vp;
And put on my owne chaines;
And am in loue with my captiuitie;
Such Venus is, when on the sand shore
Of Xanthus or on Idas pleasant greene
She leades the dance; Her, the Nimphes all are we,
And smyling graces doe accompany.
If Bacchus could his stragling Mynion
Grace, with a glorious wreath of shining Starres;
Why should not Heauen my Poppæa Crowne?
The Northerne teeme shall moue into a round;
New consteliations rise, to honour thee;
The Earth shall wooe thy fauours, and the Sea
Lay his rich shells, and treasure at thy feete.
For thee, Hidaspis shall throw vp his gold,
Pauchaia breath the rich delightfull smells,
The Seres, and the feather'd man of Inde
Shall their fine arts, and curious labours bring:
And where the Sunn's not knowne, Poppæas name
Shall midst their feasts, and barbarous pompe be sung.
Poppæ:
I, now I am worthy to be Queene oth'world,
Fairer then Uenus, or the Bacchus loue:
But you'le anone, vnto your cutt-boy, Sporus,
Your new made woman; to whom, now I heare
You are wedded too.
Nero:
I wedded?
Poppæ:
I, you wedded;
Did you not heare the words oth' Auspyces,
Was not the boy in bride-like garments drest,
Marriage bookes seald, as 'twere for yssue, to
Be had betweene you, solemne feasts prepar'd;
While all the Court, with God-giue you Ioy, sounds.
It had bin good Domitius your Father
Had nere had other wife:
Nero:
Your froward foole, y'are still so bitter, whose that?
Enter Melichus to them.
Nimph:
One that it seemes, my Lord, doth come in hast.
Yet in his face he sends his tale before him,
Bad newes thou tellest.
Melic:
'Tis bad I tell, but good that I can tell it,
Therefore your Maiestie will pardon me,
If I offend your eares to saue your life.
Nero:
Why, is my life indangerd?
How ends this circumstance, thou wrackst my thoughts.
Meli:
My Lord your life is conspir'd against,
Nero:
By whom?
Meli;
I must be of the world excus'd in this,
If the great dutie to your Maiestie:
Makes me all other lesser to neglect.
Nero:
Th'art a tedious fellow, speake, by whom?
Melic:
By my Master.
Nero;
Who's thy Master?
Meli:
Sceuinus.
Poppæ:
Sceuinus, why should he conspire?
Vnlesse he thinke, that likenesse in conditions
May make him too, worthy oth'Empire thought.
Nero:
Who are else in it?
I thinke Natalis, Subius, Flauius,
Lucan, Seneca, and Lucius Piso,
Asper, and Quintilianus.
Nero:
Ha done,
Thou'ilt reckon all Rome anone and so thou maist,
Th'are villaines all, Ile not trust one of them;
O that the Romanes had but all one necke.
Poppæ:
Pisoes she creeping into mens affections.
And popular arts, haue giuen long cause of doubt,
And th'others late obseru'd discontents
Risen from misinterpreted disgraces,
May make vs credit this relation.
Nero:
Where are they? come they not vpon vs yet?
See the Guard doubted, see the Gates shut vp,
Why, the'yle surprise vs in our Court anon.
Meli:
Not so my Lord, they are at Pisoes house,
And thinke themselues, yet safe, and vndiscry'd.
Nero:
Lets thither then,
Tigel:
'Twere better first publish them traytors.
Nymph:
That were to make them so,
And force them all vpon their Enemies;
Now, without stirre, or hazard theyle be tane,
And boldly try all dare, and law demaund;
Besides, this accusation may be forg'd
By mallice or mistaking.
Poppe:
What likes you, doe Nimphidius, out of hand,
Two wayes distract, when either would preuaile;
If they suspecting but this fellowes absence,
Should try the Citie, and attempt their friends,
How dangerous might Pisoes fauour be.
Nimph:
I to himselfe would make the matter cleare,
Which now vpon one seruants credit stands:
The Cities fauour keepes within the bonds
Of profit, they'le loue none, to hurt themselues;
Honour, and friendship they heare others name,
Themselues doe neither feele, nor know the same;
To put them yet, (though needlesse) in some feare,
Weele keepe their streets with armed companies:
Then if they stirre, they see their wiues, and houses
Prepar'd a pray to th'greedy Souldier.
Poppe:
Let vs be quicke then, you, to Pisoes house,
While I, and Tigellinus further sift
This fellowes knowledge.
Ex. omnes Pretor Nero.
Nero:
Looke to the gates, and walles oth'Citie, looke
The riuer be well kept, haue watches set
In euery passage, and in euery way;
But who shall watch these watches, what if they
Begin, and play the Traitors first? O where shall I
Seeke faith, or them that I may wisely trust?
The Citie fauours the conspirators,
The Senate, in disgrace, and feare hath lin'd;
The Campe, why most are souldiers that he named,
Besides, he knowes not all; and like a foole
I interrupted him, else had he named
Those that stood by me; O securitie.
To Courts a stranget, and dost rather choose,
The smoaky reedes, and sedgy cottages,
Then the proud roofes, and wanton cost of Kings.
O sweet dispised ioyes of pouerty,
A happines vnknowne vnto the Gods:
Would I had rather in poore Gallij bin,
Or Vlubræ, a ragged Magistrate,
Sat as a Iudge of measures, and of corne,
Then the adored Monarke of the world.
Mother, thou didst deseruedly in this,
That from a priuate, and sure state, didst raise
My fortunes, to this slippery hill of greatnesse;
Where I can neither stand, nor fall with life.
Exit.
Enter Piso, Lucan, Sceuinus, Flauius.
Flau:
But since we are discouer'd, what remaines?
But put our liues vpon our hnads, these swords
Shall try vs Traitors, or true Citizens.
Sceui:
And what should make this hazard doubt successe,
Stout men are oft with sudden onsets danted,
What shall this Stage-player be?
Luc:
It is not now,
Augustus grauitie, nor Tiberius craft,
But Tigellinus, and Crisogorus
Eunuckes, and women that we goe against.
Sceui:
This for thy owne sake, this for ours we begg,
That thou wilt suffer him to be orecome;
Why shouldst thou keepe so many vowed swords
From such a hated throate?
Flaui:
Or shall we feare,
To trust vnto the Gods so good a cause.
Luca:
By this we may, our selues Heauens fauour promise,
Because all noblenesse, and worth on earth
We see's on our side; Here the Faby's sonne,
Here the Coruini are, and take that part;
There noble Fathers would, if now they liu'd;
There's not a soule that claimes Nobilitie
Either by his, or his fore-fathers merit,
Whom passed dangers or hote bloud makes bould:
Staid men suspect their wisedome, or their faith,
To whom our counsels we haue not reueald.
And while (our party seeking to disgrace)
They traitors call vs, Each man treason praiseth,
And hateth faith, when Piso is a traitor.
Sceui:
And at aduenture? what by stoutnesse can
Befall vs worse, then will by cowardise?
If both the people, and the souldier failde vs,
Yet shall we die at least worthy our selues,
Worthy our ancestors: O Piso thinke,
Thinke on that day, when in the Parthian fields
Thou cryedst to th'flying Legions to turne,
And looke Death in the face; he was not grim,
But faire and louely, when he came in armes.
O why, there did we not on Syrian swords?
Were we reseru'd to prisons, and to chaines.
Behold the Galley-asses in euery street,
And euen now they come to clap on yrons;
Must Pisoes head be shewed vpon a pole?
Those members torne; rather then Roman-like,
And Piso-like, with weapons in our hands
Fighting, in throng of enemies to die:
And that it shall not be a ciuill warre
Nero preuents, whose cruelty hath left
Few Citizens; we are not Romans now,
But Moores, and Iewes, and vtmost Spaniards,
And Asiaes refuge that doe fill the Citie.
Piso:
Part of vs are already tak'n, the rest
Amaz'd, and seeking holes; Our hidden ends
You see laid open, Court, and Citie arm'd,
And for feare ioyning to the part they feare.
Why should we moue desperate, and hopelesse armes
And vainely spill that noble bloud, that should
Christall Rubes, and the Median fields,
Not Tiber colour: And the more your show be
Your loues, and readinesse to loose your liues,
Yet am I proud, you would for me haue dy'd,
But liue, and keepe your selues to worthier ends;
No Mother but my owne shall weepe my death,
Nor will I make by ouerthrowing vs,
Heauen guiltie of more faults, yet from the hopes,
Your owne good wishes, rather then the thing
Doe make you see, this comfort I receiue
Of death vnforst. O friends, I would not die
When I can liue no longer; 'Tis my glory,
That free, and willing I giue vp this breath,
Leauing such courages as yours vntri'd.
But to be long in talke of dying, would
Shew a relenting, and a doubtfull mind:
By this you shall my quiet thoughts intend;
I blame nor Earth, nor Heauen for my end.
He dies.
Lucan:
O that this noble courage had bin shewne,
Rather on enemies breasts, then on thy owne.
Sceui:
But sacred, and inviolate be thy will,
And let it lead, and teach vs;
This sword I could more willingly haue thrust
Through Neroes breast; That, fortune deni'd me,
It now shall through Sceuinus.
Enter Tigellinus solus.
What multitudes of villaines are here gotten
In a conspiracy; which Hydra like,
Still in the cutting off, increaseth more.
The more we take, the more are still appeach,
And euery man brings in new company.
I wonder what we shall doe with them all,
The prisons cannot hold more then they haue,
The Iayles are full, the holes with Gallants stincke,
Strawe and gold lace together liue I thinke:
'Twere best euen shut the gates oth'Citie vp,
And make it all one Iayle; for, this I am sure,
There's not an honest man within the walles:
And though the guilty doth exceed the free;
Yet through a base, and fatall cowardise,
And by their owne hands are to prison led.
There's no condition, nor degree of men,
But here are met; Men of the sword, and gowne,
Plebeans, Senators, and women too,
Ladies that might haue slaine him with their Eye,
Would vse their hands, Philosophers,
And Polititians; Polititians?
Their plot was laid too short; Poets would now,
Not onely write, but be the arguments
Of Tragedies: The Emperour's much pleas'd:
But some haue named Seneca, and I
Will haue Petroneus, one promise of pardon,
Or feare of torture, will accusers find.
exit.
Enter Nimphidius, Lucan, Sceuinus, with a guard.
Nimph:
Though Pisoes suddennesse, and guilty hand
Preuented hath the death he should haue had;
Yet you abide it must.
Luca:
O may the earth lye lightly on his Course,
Sprinckle his ashes with your flowers and teares,
The loue and dainties of Mankind is gone.
Sceui:
What onely now we can, we'le follow thee
That way thou lead'st, and waite on thee in death,
Which we had done, had not these hindred vs.
Nimph:
Nay, other ends your grieuous crimes awaite,
Ends which the law and your deserts exact.
Sceui:
What haue we deserued?
Nimph:
That punishment that traitors vnto Princes,
And enemies to the State they liue in merit.
Sceuin:
If by the State, this gouernment you meane,
I iustly am an enemy vnto it.
That's but to Nero, you, and Tigellinus:
That glorious world, that euen beguiles the wise,
Being lookt into, includes but three, or foure.
Corrupted men, which were they all remou'd,
'Twould for the common State much better be.
Why, what can you ith'gouerment mislike?
Vnlesse it grieue you, that the world's in peace,
Or that our armes conquer without blood.
Hath not his power with forraine visitations,
And strangers honour more acknowldg'd bin,
Then any was afore him? Hath not hee
Dispos'd of frontier kingdomes, with successe,
Giuen away Crownes, whom he set vp, preuailing?
The riuall seat of the Arsacidæ,
That thought their brightnesse equall vnto ours,
Is't crown'd by him, by him doth raigne?
If we haue any warre, it's beyond Rheme,
And Euphrates, and such whose different chances
Haue rather seru'd for pleasure, and discourse,
Then troubled vs; At home the Citie hath
Increast in wealth, with building bin adorn'd;
The arts haue flourisht, and the Muses sung,
And that, his Iustice, and well tempred raigne,
Hath the best Iudges pleas'd, the powers diuine;
Their blessings, and so long prosperitie
Of th'Empire vnder him, enough declare.
Sceui:
You freed the State from warres abroad, but 'twas
To spoile at home more safely, and diuert
The Parthian enmitie on vs, and yet,
The glory rather, and the spoyles of warre
Haue wanting bin, the losse, and charge we haue.
Your peace is full of cruelty, and wrong,
Lawes taught to speake to present purposes,
Wealth, and faire houses dangerous faults become,
Much blood ith'Citie, and no common deaths,
But Gentlemen, and Consulary houses:
On Cæsars owne house looke, hath that bin free?
Hath he not shed the blood he calls diuine?
Hath not that neerenes which should loue beget
Alwayes on him, bin cause of hate, and feare;
Vertue, and power suspected, and kept downe:
They whose great ancestors this Empire made,
A happy state, where Decius is a traytor,
Narcissus true, nor onely wast vnsafe
T'offend the Prince, his freed men worse were feard,
Whose wrongs with such insulting pride were heard,
That euen the faultie it made innocent:
If we complain'd, that was it selfe a crime,
I, though it were to Cæsars benefit;
Our writings pry'd into, falce guiltines
(Thinking each taxing pointed out it selfe)
Our priuate whisperings listned after; nay,
Our thoughts were forced out of vs, and punisht:
And had it bin in you, to haue taken away
Our vnderstanding, as you did our speech,
You would haue made vs thought this honest too?
Nimph:
Can malice narrow eyes,
See anything yet more it can traduce.
Sceui:
His long continued taxes I forbeare,
In which he chiefely showed him to be Prince,
His robbing Alters, sale of Holy things,
The Antique Goblets of adored rust,
And sacred gifts of Kings, and people sold.
Nor was the spoile more odious, then the vse,
They were imployd on, spent on shame, and lust
Which still haue bin so endlesse in their change,
And made vs know a diuers seruitude.
But that he hath bin suffered so long,
And prospered, as you say: for that, to thee
O Heauen, I turne my selfe, and cry; No God
Hath care of vs, yet haue we our reuenge,
As much as Earth may be reueng'd on Heauen;
Their diuine honour Nero shall vsurpe,
And prayers, and feasts, and adoration haue,
As well as Iupiter.
Nimph:
Away blaspheming tongue
Be euer silent for thy bitternesse.
Exeunt.
Nero:
What could cause thee,
Forgetfull of my benefits, and thy oath,
To seeke my life.
Plaui:
Nero, I hated thee;
Nor was there any of thy souldiers
More faithfull, while thou faith deseru'dst then I,
Together did I leaue to be a subiect,
And thou a Prince, Cæsar was now become
A player on the Stage, a Waggoner,
A burner of our houses, and of vs,
A Paracide of Wife, and Mother.
Tigel:
Villaine dost know where, & of whom thou speakst?
Nero:
Haue you but one death for him, let it bee
A feeling one (Tigellinus) bee't
Thy charge, and let me see thee witty in't.
Tigell:
Come sirrah
Weele see how stoutly you'le stretch out your necke.
Flaui:
Wold thou durst strike as stoutly,
Ex. Tig. & Flau:
Nero:
And what's hee there?
Epaph:
One that in whispering oreheard
What pitie 'twas, my Lord, that Piso died.
Nero:
And why wast pitie sirrah, Piso died?
Yong:
My Lord 'twas pitie he deseru'd to die.
Poppæ:
How much this youth, my Otho doth resemble;
Otho, my first, my best loue, who is now
(Vnder pretext of gouerning) exyl'd
To Lucitania, honourably banisht.
Nero:
Well, if you be so passionate,
Ile make you spend your pitie on your Prince,
And good men, not on traytors.
Yong:
The Gods forbid my Prince should pitie need.
Somewhat, the sad remembrance did me stirre
Somewhat his greatnesse; then whom yesterday,
The world, but Cæsar, could shew nothing higher;
Besides, some vertues and some worth he had,
That might excuse my pitie, to an end
So cruell, and vnripe.
Poppæ:
I know not how this stranger moues my mind,
His face me thinkes is not like other mens,
Nor doe they speake thus; Oh, his words inuade
My weakned senses, and ouercome my heart.
Nero:
Your pitie shewes, your fauour and your will
Which side you are inclinde too, had your power,
You can but pitie, else should Cæsar feare,
Your ill affection then shall punisht bee.
Take him to execution, he shall die,
That the death pities of mine enemie.
Yong:
This benefit at least.
Sad death shall giue, to free me from the power
Of such a gouernment; and if I die
For pitying humane chance, and Pisoes end,
There will be some too, that will pitie mine.
Poppæ:
O what a dauntlesse looke, what sparkling eyes,
Threating in suffering; sure some noble blood
Is hid in ragges, feares argues a base spirit
In him what courage, and contempt of death,
And shall I suffer one I loue to die?
He shall not die? hands of this man, away,
Nero, thou shalt not kill this guiltlesse man.
Nero:
He guiltlesse, strumpet.
Spurns her and Poppæa falls.
She's in loue with the smoath face of the boy.
Neoph.
Alas my Lord you haue slaine her.
Epaph:
Helpe she dies.
Nero:
Poppæa, Poppæa, speake, I am not angry,
I did not meane to hurt thee, speake sweet loue.
Neoph:
Shee's dead my Lord.
Nero:
Fetch her againe, she shall not die,
Ile ope the Iron gates of hell,
And force from death this farre too worthy pray,
Shee is not dead.
The crimson red, that like the morning shone,
When from her windowes, (all with Roses strewde,)
She peepeth forth, forsakes not yet her cheekes,
Her breath, that like a hony-suckle smelt
twining about the prickled Eglintine,
Yet moues her lipes; those quicke, and piercing eyes,
That did in beautie challenge heauens eyes
Yet shine as they were wont: O no they doe not,
See how they grow obscure: O see, they close,
And cease to take, or giue light to the world.
What starres so ere you are assur'd to grace
The firmament, (for loe the twinkling fires
Together throng, and that cleare milky space
Of stormes, and Phiades, and thunder void,
Prepares your roome,) doe not with wry aspect
Looke on your Nero, who in blood shall mourne
Your lucklesse fate; And many a breathing soule,
Send after you to waite vpon their Queene;
This shall begin, the rest shall follow after,
And fill the streets with outcryes, and with slaughter.
Ex.
Enter Seneca, with two of his friends.
Senec:
What meanes your mourning, this vngratefull sorrow?
Where are your precepts of Philosophie?
Where our prepared resolution,
So many yeeres fore-studied against danger?
To whom is Neroes cruelty vnknowne?
Or what remained after mothers blood,
But his instructers death? Leaue, leaue these teares,
Death from me nothing takes, but what's a burthen,
A clog, to that free sparke of Heauenly fire:
But that in Seneca, the which you lou'd,
Which you admir'd, doth, and shall still remaine
Secure of death, vntouched of the graue.
Weele not belie our teares, we waile not thee,
It is our selues, and our owne losse we grieue;
To thee, what losse in such a change can bee,
Vertue is paid her due, by death alone;
To our owne losses doe we giue these teares,
That loose thy loue, thy boundlesse knowledge loose,
Loose the vnpatternd sample of thy vertue,
Loose whatsoeu'r may praise, or sorrow moue;
In all these losses, yet of this we glory,
That 'tis thy happinesse that makes vs sorry.
2. Friend.
If there be any place for Ghosts of good men,
If (as we haue bin long taught) great mens soules
Consume not with their bodies, thou shalt see,
(Looking from out the dwellings of the ayre)
True duties to thy memorie perform'd;
Not in the outward pompe of funerall,
But in remembrance of thy deeds, and words,
The oft recalling of thy many vertues,
The Tombe, that shall th'eternall relickes keepe
Of Seneca, shall be his hearers hearts.
Senec:
Be not afraid my soule, goe cheerefully,
To thy owne Heauen, from whence it first let downe,
Thou loath by this imprisoning flesh putst on,
Now lifted vp, thou rauisht shalt behold
The truth of things, at which we wonder here,
And foolishly doe wrangle on beneath;
And like a God shalt walke the spacious ayre,
And see what euen to conceit's deni'd.
Great soule oth'world, that through the parts defus'd
Of this vast All, guid'st what thou dost informe;
You blessed mindes, that from the Pheares you moue,
Looke on mens actions not with idle eyes;
And Gods we goe to, Aaid me in this strife,
And combat of my flesh, that ending, I
May still shew Seneca, and my selfe die.
Exeunt.
Anto:
Sure this message of the Princes,
So grieuous and vnlookt for, will appall
Petronius much.
Enan:
Will not death any man?
Anto:
It will; but him so much the more,
That hauing liu'd to his pleasure; shall forgoe
So delicate a life, I doe not maruell
That Seneoa, and such sowre fellowes, can
Leaue that they neu'r tasted: But when we
That haue the Nectar of thy kisses felt,
That drinkes away the troubles of this life,
And but one banquet make of forty yeeres,
Must come to leaue this: but soft, here he is.
Enter Petroneus, and a Centurion.
Petron:
Leaue me a while, Centurion to my friends,
Let me my farewell take, and thou shalt see,
Neroes commandement quickly obaid in mee.
ex. Centurion.
Come let vs drinke, and dash the posts with wine
Here throwe your flowers; fill me a swelling bowle,
Such as Mecenas, or my Lucan dranke
On Virgills birth day.
Enan:
What meanes (Petroneus) this vnseasonable,
And causelesse mirth? Why, comes not from the Prince
This man to you, a messenger of death,
Petro:
Here faire Enanthe, whose plumpe ruddy cheeke
Exceeds the grape, it makes this; here my geyrle.
He drinks.
And thinkst thou death, a matter of such harme,
Why, he must haue this pretty dimpling chin,
And will pecke out those eyes that now so wound.
Enan:
Why, is it not th'extreamest of all ills?
Petro:
It is indeed the last, and end of ills;
The Gods, before th'would let vs tast deaths Ioyes,
Because we should perceiue th'amends, and thanke them,
Death, the grim knaue, but leades you to the doore,
Where entred once, all curious pleasures come
To meete, and welcome you.
A troupe of beauteous Ladies from whose eyes,
Loue, thousand arrowes, thousand graces shootes;
Puts forth their faire hands to you, and inuites
To their greene arbours, and close shadowed walles,
Whence, banisht is the roughnesse of our yeeres:
Onely the west wind blowes; Ith euer Spring,
And euer Sommer: There the laden bowes
Offer their tempting burdens to your hand,
Doubtfull your eye, or tast inuiting more:
There euery man his owne desires enioyes;
Faire Lucrese lies, by lusty Tarquins side,
And wooes him now againe to rauish her.
Nor vs, (though Romane) Lais will refuse,
To Corinth any man may goe; no maske,
No enuious garment doth those beauties hide,
Which Nature made, so mouing, to be spide,
But in bright Christall, which doth supply all,
And white transparent vailes they are attyr'd,
Through which the pure snowe vnderneath doth shine;
(Can it be snowe, from whence such flames arise?)
Mingled with that faire company, shall we
On bankes of Violets, and of Hiacinths
Of loues deuising, sit, and gently sport,
And all the while melodious Musique heare,
And Poets songs, that Musique farre exceed
The old Anaicean crown'd with smyling flowers,
And amorous Sapho, on her Lesbian Lute
Beauties sweet Scarres, and Cupids godhead sing,
Anto:
What, be not rauisht with thy fancies, doe not
Court nothing, nor make loue vnto our feares.
Petro:
Ist nothing that I say?
Anto:
But empty words.
Why, thou requir'st some instance of the eye,
Wilt thou goe with me then, and see that world?
Which either will returne thy old delights;
Or square thy appetite anew to theirs.
Anto:
Nay; I had rather farre beleeue thee here,
Others ambition such discoueries seeke;
Faith, I am satisfied with the base delights
Of common men; A wench, a house I haue,
And of my owne a garden, Ile not change,
For all your walkes, and Ladies, and rare fruits.
Petro:
Your pleasures must of force resigne to these,
In vaine you shunne the sword, in vaine the sea,
In vaine is Nero fear'd, or flatered,
Hether you must, and leaue your purchast houses,
Your new made garden, and your blacke browd wife,
And of the trees thou hast so quaintly set;
Not one, but the displeasant Cipresse shall
Goe with thee.
Anton:
Faith 'tis true, we must at length,
But yet Petroneus, while we may, awhile
We would enoioy them, those we haue, w'are sure of,
When that you talke of's doubfull, and to come.
Petro:
Perhaps thou thinkst to liue yet twenty yeeres,
Which may vnlookt for be cut off, as mine,
If not, to endlesse time compar'd, is nothing
What you endure must euer, endure now;
Nor stay not, to be last at table set,
Each best day of our life at first doth goe,
To them succeeds diseased age, and woe;
Now die your pleasures, and the dayes your pray
Your rimes, and loues, and iests will take away.
Therefore my sweet, yet thou wilt goe with mee,
And not liue here, to what thou wouldst not see.
Enan:
Would y'haue me then kill my selfe, and die,
And goe I know not to what places there.
Petro:
What places dost thou feare?
The'll fauoured lake they tell thee thou must passe.
Enan:
O pardon Sir, though death affrights a woman;
Whose pleasures, though you timely here diuine,
The paines we know, and see,
Petron:
The paine is lifes, death rids that paine away,
Come boldly, there's no danger in this foord,
Children passe through it: If it be a paine,
You haue this comfort, that you past it are.
Enan:
Yet all, as well as I, are loath to die.
Petro:
Iudge them by deed, you see them doe't apace
Enan:
I, but tis loathly, and against their wils.
Petro:
Yet, know you not that any being dead,
Repented them, and would haue liu'd againe,
They then there errors saw, and foolish prayers,
But you are blinded in the loue of life,
Death is but sweet to them that doe approach it
To me as one that tak'n with Delphick rage,
When the diuining God his breast doth fill,
He sees what others cannot standing by,
It seemes a beauteous, and a pleasant thing;
Where is my deaths Phisitian?
Phisi:
Here my Lord.
Petro:
Art ready?
Phisi:
I my Lord.
Petro;
And I for thee:
Nero, my end shall mocke thy tyranny.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quarti.
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