University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Sejanus
Solus.
Why are my Thoughts still ministring fresh Pain?
Why are new Cares still rank'ling in my Mind?
Nature aloud calls out for balmy Rest,
But all in vain. My ever waking Soul,
Sits brooding o'er a Train of Images,
That constant rise in terrible Array,
And shrink my Resolution into Fears.
But wherefore should vain Fancies thus appall?
Is not an Empire subject to my Rule?
Have I not all that Fortune could bestow;
In ev'ry Thing but Name, an Emperor!
Is not Ambition glutted with my Store?
And yet that faithful Mirror of the Mind,
Reflection, still a gloomy Prospect shews.
Remorse the Raven of a guilty Mind,
Is ever croaking horrid in my Ear;
Often I rouse to banish it away,
But the Tormentor still returns again,
And like Promethes' Vulture, ever gnaws.
What then is Glory, without soft Repose?
If sweet Content is banish'd from my Soul,
Life grows a Burden, and a Weight of Woe.
Oh! that I could run o'er my Race again,
Then would I chuse to tread the humble Vale,
Nor lab'ring climb up Greatness painful Hill.
But my past Deeds have set me beyond Cure,
And I must still go on or worse endure.
Assist me, Furies, with your hellish Aid,
Nor let the Tyrant Conscience more invade;
Since I am stain'd with Blood, thro' Blood I'll wade.

Enter Eudemus.
Sej.
Wherefore, Eudemus, are these earnest Looks?

Eud.
My Lord, the Princess Livia—

Seja.
What of her?

Eude.
Struck with Remorse now flies distracted round,
And vows she'll speak the Cause of Drusus' Death.

Sej.
From whence this unexpected curst Mischance?

Eud.
She says that Drusus' Shade appear'd last Night,
And charg'd her all your Actions to reveal;
As some Attonement for her guilty Life.
Possess'd of this she flies o'er all the House,
Crying aloud for Vengeance on Sejanus.

Sej.
A Tongue whose Words are of such dire Import,
Should not be suffer'd to have Motion free;
She must be silenc'd or she ruins all.
They shall be try'd, and tho' I loath her Sight,
(So much Enjoyment has pall'd all Desire)
Yet I will speak to her in raptur'd Phrase.
If the dissembl'd Passion can prevail,
No farther we'll proceed—but if it fails,
Then our own Safety loudly claims her Death.
But see, she comes—Eudemus thou retire.

Exit Eudemus.
Enter Livia.
Liv.
Where is the Monster that ensnar'd my Soul?
Oh thou Fiend of Mankind, most accurst,
Death of my Honour, Instrument of Shame,
How can'st thou stand in open Face of Day?
Thou should'st cohabit with the Gloom of Night,
Emblem and Picture of thy Cloud-wrap'd Soul.
Doth not the Sound of Murder haunt thine Ear,
And lawless Love invade thy hellish Heart?
Or can the Fiends, Projectors of thy Deeds,
Afford thee Strength of Mind at all to smile,
And brave the Justice of avenging Heav'n?
Hark! the murder'd Drusus calls upon thee,
And groans for Vengeance from the Womb of Earth.

Sej.
Does Livia then upbraid the Act of Love,
What but thy Beauty could provoke that Deed?
For thee I would have sacrific'd the World,
And with the World have thought thee cheaply won;
That art the Joy and Comfort of my Life.
Imbitter not thy Sweetness with Reproach;
But calm the raging Tempest of thy Soul,
Nor let these phantom Thoughts disturb thy Mind.
Thro' me the God of Love invites to Peace,
And, smiling, gently wooes thee to be blest.

Liv.
Too well I know thy base designing Heart,
And the dissembling of thy fine spun Phrase,
To fall a second Time thy easy Prey.
I have already lost my Peace of Mind.
Quick crowding Horrors compass me around,
And Life is burthensome with cumbrous Pain.
Reflection makes me curse my natal Hour,
The hallow'd Womb of her who gave me Birth;
The Pow'rs who have permitted me to live,
The Day, the Night, the Race of human Kind,
But chiefly thee, who led me first astray.

Sej.
Thou could'st not stray and find such ardent Love.
The Gods are envious of our perfect Bliss,
Thinking it more than Mortals should possess
They mingle this Perplexity of Mind,
To disconcert, and bitter all our Joys.

Liv.
What Joys? Do any Joys remain in Hell,
Or what's the same, a Croud of guilty Thoughts?
Who can repose upon a Bed of Thorns?
Yet that were Pleasures to the Pangs I feel.
Envelop'd with Despair, I wish to die:
But Conscience whispers to my lab'ring Soul,
I shall not rest from Torture in the Grave;
But find that awful, silent Bed of Death,
The gloomy Mansion of eternal Woe.

Sej.
I'll fondly sooth the Sorrows of thy Breast,
If thou wilt kindly take me for thy Guide,
And shew the Way to Comfort and to Peace:
Nor shalt thou labour thro' a thorny Path.
Let not Sejanus plead his Cause in vain,
But as he claims in thy Affection place,
As thou hast blest him with thy heavenly Charms,
And once did listen mildly to his Vows.—

Liv.
Blast the Remembrance of the hateful Time,
Oh! that great Jove upon that cursed Day,
Wherein I gave up Innocence and Fame,
Had struck me with a Thunderbolt to Earth.
I then had been a Subject of the Grave,
And never known a Guilt so great, so dire.
But wherefore should I thus protract thy Life?
Great Cæsar shall behold thy worthy Deeds,
'Tis he shall thank thee for his murder'd Son.
He shall behold thee in thy proper Light,
Just as thou art, the Serpent of his Blood.

Sej.
Stay yet a Moment, lovely Princess, stay,
Why would you strive to ruin thus the Man,
That knows no Blessing equal to thy Smiles?
Nay on thy self bring dreadful Ruin down,
For such must wait thy unadvised Tale.
If thou can'st bid me die, then Life farewell,
For all is lost, if I am lost to thee.
Nor would I live to hear thee wish me dead,
Were I convinc'd thy cooler Reason rul'd.
But well I know the Fever of the Mind,
This sudden Gust that irritates thy Soul,
On calm Reflection will abate and cease.
Go in, my Love, enjoy a short Repose,
And lull thy ruffled Thoughts with healing Rest.
I'll bring a Cordial shall compose thy Cares,
And banish all Phantasmas from thy Brain.

Liv.
I guess the friendly Purpose of your Heart,
And know the healing Balm you have prepar'd.
It is a Med'cine I'd receive with Joy,
If thou wer't not to triumph in my Fall,
And longer live a Burden to the Earth.
Think not thy Cobweb Arts shall now prevail,
They are too flimsy to oppose my Rage.
Heav'n is grown weary with thy num'rous Crimes,
Which cry aloud, and bellow for Revenge.
The Arm of Fate now brandishes her Dart,
That is to mark thy Body for the Grave,
And hurl thy impious Soul to blackest Hell.
Then since thy Reign is drawing near a Close,
I will be foremost to compleat thy Fall.
This to my injur'd Husband here I vow.

Sej.
It must be so—I'll stab her treach'rous Heart,
Her Death till proper Time may be conceal'd.
(Aside.
Since then relentless Rage thus rules thy Breast,
And thy Sejanus must a Victim fall,
Give one Embrace to comfort him in Death.
When thou shalt see me in my dying Pangs,
Drop but one Tear in Pity to my Fate,
And that will smooth her most tormenting Frowns.

Liv.
If ev'ry Joy were only in my Gift,
I would disperse them among common Slaves,
And lavish them on ev'ry abject Wretch,
E'er give a Grain of Happiness to thee.
Therefore expect the dread Approach of Fate,
When thou wilt curse thy horrid Crimes too late:
When thou shalt be expos'd to public Shame,
And hear the Rabble Crowds revile thy Name.
Blasted by me, thou shalt fall headlong down,
And Tortures meet, for an imperial Crown.
All thy ambitious Hopes in Death shall end,
Without the Comfort of one pitying Friend.
As thou hast ever labour'd to enthral,
And hated liv'd, despis'd by Slaves thou'lt fall.
With Rapture all must view thee Gasp in Death,
And bless the Moment of thy parting Breath.

Sej.
Nay then I will prevent thy purpos'd Tale.—

Livia goes out, he draws his Sword to follow her, and the Ghost of Drusus rising prevents him.
Sej.
Ha! What Dæmon has the Sorceress rais'd?

Ghost.
Sejanus, from the Cave of Death I'm come,
To wound thy Heart with thy approaching Doom.

Sej.
Why am I thus! all Pow'r of Motion lost.
My Limbs deny their Office and are numb'd,
My throbbing Heart, leaps as 'twould break its Bounds,
My Eye-strings strain with Horror at the Sight,
And ev'ry Nerve is touch'd with the Surprize.
Art thou in Substance real, or a Shade,
Which troubled Fancy raises to my View?

Gho.
I am the murder'd Drusus' vengeful Shade,
By thy vile Plots to sudden Death betray'd.
Tremble to hear the Hour is drawing nigh,
Wherein thou wilt, bereft of Greatness, die.
Thy Titles, Pomp and Heaps of sordid Gain
Will then be found most transitory vain,
Nor give thee aught but everlasting Pain.
Like an ill-founded Fabrick shalt thou fall,
And with Fate struggling, may'st for Mercy call;
But no one God will take the smallest Care,
To ease the racking Torments of Despair.
A guilty Mind shall pain thy latest Hour,
And Conscience all thy future Peace devour.
When down the Precipice of Fate thou'rt hur'ld,
I'll meet and hunt thee thro' the future World.

(Sinks.)
Sej.
Oh! Resolution whither art thou fled?
Why is my Soul thus shook with abject Fear?
Why does my Blood run chilly thro' my Veins,
As if the Spectre still remain'd in View?
What, ho' Eudemus, come thou to my Aid.

Enter Eudemus.
Eud.
Why looks, my Lord, so much appall'd with Fear?
Why speak your Eyes such Terror and Amaze?

Sej.
Oh! my Eudemus, they've beheld a Sight
Enough to turn Spectators into Stone.
The Shade of Drusus came before me here,
And spoke such Words of Terror to my Soul,
That much I fear, Content will ne'er return.

Eud.
My Lord, encourage not such idle Dreams
Unless you mean to sacrifice yourself.

Sej.
What dost thou call a Dream? Is't possible
My Eyes could err with ev'ry Sense awake,
And all my Intellects in order rang'd?
As plain as thou, he stood before me here.
I am not easily o'ercome with Fear,
But when the silent Tomb yields up its Store,
Nature will start, and tremble to behold.

Eud.
But what design you with the Princess, Sir?

Sej.
Ha! Midst my Fears, she had escap'd my Thoughts.
Has she got forth to blast us with her Tongue,
Must all our Glory earn'd with Pains and Care,
Our Greatness' Structure fall a Woman's Prey?

Eud.
She struggl'd to get forth, but, knowing well
How fatal that might prove, I cross'd her Way.

Sej.
And by so doing thou hast baffled Fate,
For with her Breath we'll stop her bab'ling Tongue.
No living Foes shall whisper dangerous Tales,
If the Dead speak, 'tis what we can't prevent.
Therefore come thou assist me in this Deed.
E'er we will fail, let wounded Nature bleed,
And tho' Stars frighted drop from out their Spheres,
We'll drown in Blood, all our convulsive Fears.
Spite of the thund'ring Gods we'll stem the Tide,
And cast Adversity on either Side:
Till Fate, thus conquer'd, shall be forc'd to own,
That daring Minds reign, uncontroul'd, alone,
And ev'ry Act is just to gain a Throne.

(Exeunt.)
Enter Arruntius.
Arr.
Still dost thou suffer Heav'n?—Will no Flame,
No Heat of Guilt make thy just Rage to boil,
In thy distemper'd Bosom, and o'erflow
The pitchy Blazes of Impiety,
Kindled beneath thy Throne?—Still can'st thou sleep
Patient, while Vice doth make an antick Face,
At thy dread Pow'r?—Jove, will nothing wake thee?
Must vile Sejanus pull thee by the Beard,
E'er thou wilt ope thy stern-lidded Eye,
And frown him dead?—we'll snore on dreaming Gods,
And let the last of the proud Giant Race,
Heave Mountain upon Mountain 'gainst your State.—
Pardon me Fortune and ye sacred Pow'rs,
Whom I expostulating have profan'd.
I see what's equal to a Prodigy,
A great, an honest and a noble Roman
Live an old Man—Oh Marcus Lepidus,
When is our Turn to bleed—thou and I
Without a Boast are almost all the few
Left to be honest in these impious Times.

Enter Lepidus.
Lep.
What we are left to be, we'll be, Arruntius,
Tho' Tyranny did stare as wide as Death
To fright us from it.

Arr.
It hath so on Sabinus.

Lep.
I saw him now drawn from the Gemonies
A piteous Object of tyrannic Hate.

Arr.
We are the next, the Hook lays hold on Marcus,
What are thy Arts, good Patriot, tell them me,
That have preserv'd thy Hairs to that white Dye,
And kept so reverend and so good a Head,
Safe on its comely Shoulders.

Lep.
Arts, Arruntius,
None but the plain and passive Fortitude,
To suffer and be silent, never to stretch these Arms,
Against the Torrent, live at home
With my own Thoughts and Innocence about me.

Arr.
I would begin to study them, if I thought
Security were worth the smallest Care.

Lep.
There is a Piece of News, thou hast not heard,
Which were we not enur'd so much to Pain,
Thy honest Bosom would, I am certain, feel.
But we have almost lost the Sense of Ills,
Our young Prince Nero is by a sudden Order
Of his good Uncle's banish'd into Pontia.

Arr.
How! Has the Wolf then got among the Lambs.

Lep.
And Drusus the younger Brother's Prisoner here.
But soft the wretched Agrippina comes.
Most injur'd Princess of all Joys bereft.

Enter Agrippina.
Agr.
Oh! all ye Pow'rs that rule this nether World,
Why have I liv'd to see this woeful Day?
To have my Blood ta'en from me Drop by Drop,
To have my Children torn away by Force,
And made the Prey of base Sejanus Pow'r?

Arr.
You must have Patience, royal Agrippina,

Agr.
Who can have Patience 'midst such Shocks of Fate?
Philosophy is vanquish'd in the Strife,
And Ills conflicting rouse the Passions up.
Not only Nature calls upon me now,
But e'en Humanity demands my Rage.
Who that is just can see Oppression Fall,
And crush the Innocent, with equal Mind?
Patience were now unworthy of my Soul:
I will have Vengeance, and that were Nectar
To my famish'd Spirits—Oh! my Fortune!
Let it be sudden thou prepar'st against me,
And ease me from the Torments of Suspence,
If my poor Children are to fall in Death,
Strike all my Pow'rs of Understanding blind:
Let me not fear that cannot hope.

Lep.
Dear Princess!
These Torments on yourself are worse than Cæsar's.

Agr.
Was it to make them Prisoners and Slaves,
He gave his Nephews to the Senate's Care?
Curst be the Arts of all such wicked Men.
Just Heav'n with Patience hear my humble Pray'r,
May base Sejanus feel thy Wrath divine,
Make him a dire Example amongst Men;
Let but his Fate be equal to his Crimes,
And keenest Malice could not wish for more.

Arr.
To that all honest Souls will say Amen.

Agr.
Is it the Happiness of being great,
Still to be aim'd at, still to be suspected?
To live the Subject of all Jealousies?
Of ev'ry painted Danger? Who would not chuse
Once to fall, than thus to hang for ever?

Arr.
In all things we are taught to hope the best,
'Tis true the monstrous Actions of these Times,
The daily Cruelties that wound our Eyes,
Have left us but the Shadow of faint Hopes.

Agr.
Nay not so much, 'tis vanish'd all and fled.
Hope to a Flatterer is now transform'd,
A perfect Courtier to betray with Smiles,
And if encourag'd, would secure us still,
To deeper Ruin in the Gulph of Fate.
We therefore must expect the worst can come,
And that will as a Preparation serve,
To mitigate the Torments we may feel.
As for my Part I think of nought but Woes,
For oh! most sure, the fatal Trap is laid,
And the next Step may noose us in the Snare.

Lep.
'Tis true the Terrors which afflict this Land,
Seem to point out the Cave of dark Despair;
Yet Heav'n in Pity to our Suff'rings here,
I doubt not will clear up the present Gloom,
And in its gracious providential Care,
Make you and yours, in Joy and Safety live.

Agr.
To that our Expectation cannot strain,
No Place is safe, but that where nothing is:
While thus you stand by me, you are not safe,
Was Silius safe? or poor Sabinus safe?
They were the strict Espousers of my Cause,
And therefore fell to rav'nous Wolves a Prey.
Therefore away, no long Stay by me.
Here to be seen is Danger, to speak, Treason,
To do me least Observance, is call'd Faction,
Leave me I pray, and let us live apart,
Nor in my Ruin sepulchre my Friends.
In Separation all our Safety dwells.
Then let's divide the Children of Despair,
To sigh in Shades, and ruminate on Care.
If the just Gods in Pity to our State,
Kindly avert the dreadful Frowns of Fate,
(And free us from these arbitrary Slaves,)
Like Mariners escap'd tempestuous Waves,
Smiling we'll meet upon the friendly Shore,
Nor longer dread the angry Waters Roar;
But praising Heav'n for all our Dangers past,
Implore its Aid to make the Blessing last.

(Exeunt.)
Enter Sejanus.
Sej.
The Deed is done, and Livia breaths no more,
Now all my Fears in her are safe secur'd.
Hark! methought I heard her Voice—it cannot be,
Unless the Dæmons have restor'd her Life.

Enter Natta.
Nat.
Safety to great Sejanus.

Sej.
Now Natta?

Nat.
Hear's not, my Lord, the Wonder?

Sej.
No! speak it.

Nat.
I meet it violent in the People's Mouths,
Who run in Crowds to Pompey's's Theatre,
To view your Statue; which they say sends forth
A Smoak, as from a Furnace black and dreadful.

Sej.
Some Traitor has put Fire in to stir the People.
Some Slave has practis'd an Imposture on't.
Go,—order the Head be instantly ta'en off.

Enter Satrius.
Sat.
My Lord! the Head's already taken off,
I saw it, and at the opening there leap'd forth
A great, and monst'rous Serpent.

Sej.
Monst'rous! why monst'rous?
Had it a Head and Horns? No Heart—a Tongue,
Forked as Flattery? Look'd it of the Hue
To such as live in great Men's Bosoms?

Sat.
May it please the most divine Sejanus,
I have not seen one more extended,
Foul, venomous and hateful to the Sight.
If I may judge, it is a Prodigy,
And other Omens do concur therein.
My Lord, in taking your last Augury,
No prosp'rous Bird appear'd—ill-boding Ravens
Hover'd up and down—and from the Sacrifice,
Flew to the Prison, where they perch'd all Night,
Flapping the Air with their expanded Wings.
I dare not counsel, but I could entreat,
That great Sejanus would attempt the Gods,
Once more with Sacrifice.

Sej.
Of all the Throng that fills th'Olympian Hall,
I know not that one Deity but Fortune,
To whom I would throw up in begging Smoak
One Grain of Incense; Or whose Favour buy
At smallest Cost. Her I indeed adore,
And always keep her Image in my House.
Then bid the Priest for Sacrifice prepare,
These Omens soon will vanish into Air,
And you with Shame your idle Fears confess,
When Fortune smiling shall my Off'ring bless.

(Exeunt.)