Old English Plays, Vol. I | Page 6

note (1) for "Bayford ballads" read "Bagford Ballads."

THE TRAGEDY OF NERO,
Newly Written.
Imprinted at London by _Augustine Mathewes_, and _John Norton_, for _Thomas Jones_, and are to bee sold at the blacke Raven in the Strand, 1624.

The Tragedie of Nero.

Actus Primus.
Enter _Petronius Arbyter, Antonius Honoratus_.
Petron. Tush, take the wench I showed thee now, or else some other seeke. What? can your choler no way be allayed But with Imperiall tytles? Will you more tytles[1] unto Caesar give?
Anto. Great are thy fortunes _Nero_, great thy power, Thy Empyre lymited with natures bounds; Upon thy ground the Sunne doth set and ryse; The day and night are thine, Nor can the Planets, wander where they will, See that proud earth that feares not Caesars name. Yet nothing of all this I envy thee; But her, to whom the world unforst obayes, Whose eye's more worth then all it lookes upon; In whom all beautyes Nature hath enclos'd That through the wide Earth or Heaven are dispos'd.
Petron. Indeed she steales and robs each part o'th world With borrowed beauties to enflame thine eye: The Sea, to fetch her Pearle, is div'd into; The Diomond rocks are cut to make her shine; To plume her pryde the Birds do naked sing: When my Enanthe, in a homely gowne--
Anto. Homely, I faith.
Petron. I, homely in her gowne, But looke vpon her face and that's set out With no small grace; no vayled shadowes helpe. Foole! that hadst rather with false lights and darke Beguiled be then see the ware thou buyest.
Poppea royally attended, and passe over the Stage in State.
Anto. Great Queene[2], whom Nature made to be her glory, Fortune got eies and came to be thy servant, Honour is proud to be thy tytle; though Thy beauties doe draw up my soule, yet still So bright, so glorious is thy Maiestie That it beates downe againe my clyming thoughts.
Petron. Why, true; And other of thy blindnesses thou seest[?] Such one to love thou dar'st not speake unto. Give me a wench that will be easily had Not woed with cost, and being sent for comes: And when I have her foulded in mine armes Then Cleopatra she, or Lucres is; Ile give her any title.
Anto. Yet not so much her greatnesse and estate My hopes disharten as her chastitie.
Petron. Chastitie! foole! a word not knowne in Courts. Well may it lodge in meane and countrey homes Where povertie and labour keepes them downe, Short sleepes and hands made hard with Thuscan Woll, But never comes to great mens Pallaces Where ease and riches stirring thoughts beget, Provoking meates and surfet wines inflame; Where all there setting forth's but to be wooed, And wooed they would not be but to be wonne. Will one man serve _Poppea_? nay, thou shalt Make her as soone contented with an [one?] eye.
Nimphidius to them.
Nimph. Whil'st Nero in the streetes his Pageants shewes I to his fair wives chambers sent for am. You gracious Starres that smiled on my birth, And thou bright Starre more powerful then them all, Whose favouring smiles have made me what I am, Thou shalt my God, my Fate and fortune be. [Ex. Nimph.
Anto. How sausely yon fellow Enters the Empresse Chamber.
Petron. I, and her too, _Antonius_, knowest thou him?
Anto. What? knowe the only favorite of the Court? Indeed, not many dayes ago thou mightest Have not unlawfully askt that question.
Petron. Why is he rais'd?[3]
Anto. That have I sought in him But never peece of good desert could find. He is _Nimphidia's_ sonne, the free'd woman, Which basenesse to shake off he nothing hath But his own pride?
Petron. You remember when _Gallus, Celsus_, And others too, though now forgotten, were Great in Poppeas eyes?
Anton. I doe, and did interpret it in them An honorable favor she bare vertue. Or parts like vertue.
Petron. The cause is one of theirs and this man's Grace. I once was great in wavering smiles of Court; I fell, because I knew. Since have I given My time to my owne pleasures, and would now Advise thee, too, to meane and safe delights: The thigh's as soft the sheepes back covereth As that with crimson and with Gold adorn'd. Yet, cause I see that thy restraind desires Cannot their owne way choose, come thou with me; Perhaps He shew thee means of remedie.
[Exeunt.

(SCENE 2.)
1 Rom. Whither so fast, man? Whither so fast?
2 Rom. Whither but where your eares do lead you? To Neros Triumphs and the shouts you heare.
1 Rom Why? comes he crown'd with Parthian overthrow And brings he Volegesus with him chain'd?
2 Rom. Parthian overthrowne! why he comes crownd For victories which never Roman wonne; For having Greece in her owne arts overthrowne, In Singing, Dauncing, Horse-rase, Stage-playing. Never, O Rome had never such a Prince.
1 Rom. Yet, I