University of Virginia Library

Scæ. II.

Plautus, Mirmilon.
Plau.
Heear you the news?

Mir.
Not I: you seem amaz'd.

Plau.
A Currier from beyond the Alps arriv'd
Reports the French are all in Arms, resolv'd
To bring the War ev'n to the gates of ROME.
Fierce Vindex heads the Rebels, and all France
Contributes largely: this the Emperour hears,
And laughs; slights them, and swears he'll hang 'em all.
The people mutiny in every street;
Their tongues are Lawless; nay, they Murmur loud:
Some modestly retire to corners, where
They curse and damn him, call him paricide,
A burner of their houses, friends, and Gods,
Lo where he comes; the Lion's rous'd, his eyes
Look red with anger, Lightning flashes in them:
What Thunder follows? Let's stand by and hear.

Nero, Flavius, Guards,
Fla.
Was't not well done? I did his Murd'rer kill.

Nero.
Know, hardy fool, he suffer'd by my will:
I hated him, and did his death contrive.
Now, villain, think how long thou hast to live.

Fla.
To live? Oh who would live, thy humor's slave?
A torment worse than blackest Devils have.
Let parasites, the moths of Grandeur, fawn,
These guilded canker-worms, ambition's spawn:
I do despise thee, Tyrant as thou art;
There's nothing great, nor Manly in thy heart.

Nero.
Are you so hot? I'le alter your fierce tone.
Plautus, go burn the villain; see it done.

Fla.
Mid'st of devouring flames, I will despise
All that the Master Devil thou,
Or the black crew of lesser Fiends devise:
Thou shalt not hear a groan till I expire;
But then I'le shout defyance from the fire,
Smile at the shock of death, and to the Gods retire

Exeunt.
Enter Petronius.
Petr.
Dread Sir, two Messengers who come from Spain,
Report that Galba does new Wars maintain;
Heads the revolted Troops, and joyns with France;
The Germans too come in, and all advance
Against Your Majesty.

Nero.
I'le hear no more.
Is Galba false?

Petr.
They call him Emperour.

Nero.
They do; but what's the name, without the pow'r?
Let him come on; this arm shall strike him dead,
And snatch his borrowed Laurels from his head.

Petr.
Your Treasures are consum'd with late expence.

Nero.
His gather'd Sums shall help that indigence.

Petr.
Time flies; 'tis fit your wisdom had design'd—

Nero.
Do you consult, while I my pleasures mind.
Oh my Poppœa, where art thou retir'd?
Never was blessing.
So oft enjoy'd; yet still so much desir'd.

Exeunt.