Old English Plays, Vol. I | Page 8

a proper man, And soe goe halting to immortality-- Such fooles I love worse then they doe their lives.
Nero. But now, _Poppea_, having laid apart Our boastfull spoyles and ornaments of Triumph, Come we like Jove from _Phlegra_--
Poppea. O Giantlike comparison!
Nero. When after all his Fiers and wandering darts He comes to bath himselfe in _Juno's_ eyes. But thou, then wrangling Juno farre more fayre, Stayning the evening beautie of the Skie Or the dayes brightnesse, shall make glad thy _Caesar_, Shalt make him proud such beauties to Inioy. [Exeunt.
Manet Nimphidius solus.
Nimph. Such beauties to inioy were happinesse And a reward sufficient in itselfe, Although no other end or hopes were aim'd at; But I have other: tis not Poppeas armes Nor the short pleasures of a wanton bed That can extinguish mine aspiring thirst To Neroes Crowne. By her love I must climbe, Her bed is but a step unto his Throne. Already wise men laugh at him and hate him; The people, though his Mynstrelsie doth please them, They feare his cruelty, hate his exactions, Which his need still must force him to encrease; The multitude, which cannot one thing long Like or dislike, being cloy'd with vanitie Will hate their own delights; though wisedome doe not Even wearinesse at length will give them eyes. Thus I, by Neroes and Poppeas favour Rais'd to the envious height of second place, May gaine the first. Hate must strike Nero downe, Love make Nimphidius way unto a Crowne.
[Exit.

(SCENE 4.)
_Enter Seneca, Scevinus, Lucan and Flavius_.
Scevin. His first beginning was his Fathers death; His brothers poysoning and wives bloudy end Came next; his mothers murther clos'd up all. Yet hitherto he was but wicked, when The guilt of greater evills tooke away the shame Of lesser, and did headlong thrust him forth To be the scorne and laughter to the world. Then first an Emperour came upon the stage And sung to please Carmen and Candle-sellers, And learnt to act, to daunce, to be a Fencer, And in despight o'the Maiestie of Princes He fell to wrastling and was soyl'd with dust And tumbled on the earth with servile hands.
Seneca. He sometimes trayned was in better studies And had a child-hood promis'd other hopes: High fortunes like stronge wines do trie their vessels. Was not the Race and Theatre bigge enough To have inclos'd thy follies heere at home? O could not Rome and Italie containe Thy shame, but thou must crosse the seas to shewe it?
Scevin. And make them that had wont to see our Consuls, With conquering Eagles waving in the field, Instead of that behold an Emperor dauncing, Playing oth' stage and what else but to name Were infamie.
Lucan. O _Mummius_, O _Flaminius_, You whom your vertues have not made more famous Than Neros vices, you went ore to Greece But t'other warres, and brought home other conquests; You Corinth and Micaena overthrew, And Perseus selfe, the great Achilles race, Orecame; having Minervas stayned Temples And your slayne Ancestors of Troy reveng'd.
Seneca. They strove with Kings and Kinglike adversaries, Were even in their Enemies made happie; The Macedonian Courage tryed of old And the new greatnesse of the Syrian power: But he for Phillip and Antiochus Hath found more easie enemies to deale with-- _Terpnus_,[8] _Pammenes_,[9] and a rout of Fidlers.
Scevin. Why, all the begging Mynstrills by the way He tooke along with him and forc'd to strive That he might overcome, Imagining Himselfe Immortall by such victories.
Flav. The Men he carried over were enough T'have put the Parthian to his second flight Or the proud Indian taught the Roman Yoke.
Scevin. But they were Neroes men, like Nero arm'd With Lutes and Harps and Pipes and Fiddle-cases, Souldyers to th'shadow traynd and not the field.
Flav. Therefore they brought spoyles of such Soldyers worthy.
Lucan. But to throw downe the walls[10] and Gates of Rome To make an entrance for an Hobby-horse; To vaunt to th'people his rediculous spoyles; To come with Lawrell and with Olyves crown'd For having beene the worst of all the Singers, Is beyond Patience.
Scevin. I, and anger too. Had you but seene him in his Chariot ryde, That Chariot in which Augustus late His Triumphs ore so many Nations shew'd, And with him in the same a Minstrell plac'd The whil'st the people, running by his side, '_Hayle thou Olimpick Conqueror_' did cry, '_O haile thou Pithian_!' and did fill the sky With shame and voices Heaven would not have heard.
Seneca. I saw't, but turn'd away my eyes and eares, Angry they should be privie to such sights. Why do I stand relating of the storie Which in the doing had enough to grieve me? Tell on and end the tale, you whom it pleaseth; Mee mine own sorrow stops from further speaking. _Nero_, my love