SCAEVINUS

His first beginning was his Father's death, His brother's poisoning, and wives bloody end Came next, his mother's murder closed up all: Yet hitherto he was but wicked, when The gilded of greater evils, took away the shame Of lesser, and did headlong thrust him forth, To be the scorn, and laughter to the world; Then first, and Emperor came upon the Stage, And sung to please Carmen, and Candle-sellers, And learned to act, to dance, to be a Fencer, And in despite o'the Majesty of Princes, He fell to wrestling, and was soiled with dust, And tumbled on the Earth with servile hands. We seek not now (as in the happy days O'th common wealth they did, for liberty; Oh you, deer ashes, Cassius and Brutus That was with you entombed, there let it rest, We are contented with the galling yoke, If they will only leave us necks to bear it; We seek no longer freedom, we seek life At least, not to be murdered, let us die On Enemies swords; Shall we, whom neither The Median Bow, nor Macedonian Spear Nor the fierce Gaul, nor painted Briton could Subdue, lay down our necks to Tyrants axe? Why do we talk of Virtue, that obey Weakness, and Vice. Some Ink, and Paper Exit Meli—& enter again with Ink, and Paper. And make them that had wont to see our Consuls, With conquering Eagles waving in the field; Instead of that; behold and Emperor dancing, Playing oth' stage, and what else, but to name Were infamy. Why all the begging Mynstrills by the way, He took along with him, and forced to strive That he might overcome, Imagining Himself Imortall, by such victories. But they were Nero;s men, Like Nero armed With Luts, and Harps, and Pipes, and Fiddle-cases: Soldiers to that shadow trained, and not the field. I and anger too, Had you but seen him in his Chariot ride. That Chariot in which, Augustus late His Triumphs ore' so many Nations showed, And with him in the same a Minstrel placed, The whilst the people, running by his side, Hail thou Olimpick Conqueror did cry, Oh hail thou Pithian, and did fill the sky With shame, and voices, Heaven would not have herd. I do commend in Seneca this passion; And yet me thinks our Countries misery, Does at our hands crave somewhat more then tears. Nothing is hard to them that dare to die. This Noble resolution in you Lords, Heartens me to disclose some thoughts that I — The matter is of weight and dangerous. Faith let it go, it will but trouble us, Be hurtful to the speaker, and the hearer. Why should I fear to tell them? Why is he not a Parricide, a Player? Nay Lucan is he not thine Enemy? Hate not the Heavens, as well, as men, to see That condemned head: and you Oh righteous Gods Whither so ere you now are fled, and will No more look down upon oppressed Earth; Oh severe anger of the highest Gods, And thou stern power, to whom the Greeks assign Scourges, and swords to punish proud men's wrongs, If you be more then names found out to awe us, And that we do not vainly built you alters, Aid that joust arm, that's bent to execute What you should do. Whose within I for as great matters, as we are about. Long want of lose hath made it dull, and blunt: See, Melichus, this weapon better edged. We shall have blows on both sides, Melichus; Provide me store of clothes to bind up wounds; What an't be heart, for heart, Death is the worst; The Gods sure keep it, hide from us that live How sweet death is, because we should go on And be their bails: There are about the house Some stones that will staunch blood, see them set up: This world I see hath no felicity, I'll try the other. Me thinks, I see him struggling on the ground, Hear his unmanly outcries, and lost prayers Made to the Gods, which turn their heads away. Nero, this day must end the world's desi es, And headlong send thee, to unquenched fires. exit. If by the State, this government you mean, I justly am and enemy unto it. That's but to Nero, you, and Tigellinus: That glorious world, that even beguiles the wise, Being looked into, includes but three, or four. Corrupted men, which were they all removed, 'Twould for the common State much better be. Stoutly, and Like a Soldier, Flavius: Yet, to seek remedy to a Princes ill, Seldom, but it does the Physician kill. It is my freed man Melichus. Oh but my benefits have bound him to me. I, from abondman, have his state not only Advanced to freedom, but to wealth and credit. Virtue, and Heaven speed it; Oh you homeborn Gods of our country, Romulus, and Vesta, That Tuscan Tiber, and Rome's towers defends: Forbid not yet at length a happy end To former evils; Let this hand revenge The wronged world; enough we now have suffered. exeunt. Oh Troy, and Oh ye souls of our Forefathers, Which in your countries' fires were offered up, How near your Nephews, to your foe tunes come: Yet they were Grecian hands began your flame; But that our Temples, and our houses smoke, Our Marble buildings turn to be our Tombs, Burned bones and spurnt at Cou ses fill the streets, Not Pyrrhus, nor thou Hannibal, art Autho , Sad Room is ruined by a Roman hand. But if to Nero;s end, this only way Heavens Justice hath chosen out, and peoples love Could not but by this feebling ills be moved; We do not then at all complain our harms, On this condition please us, let us die, And cloy the Parthian, with revenge and pity. And what should make this hazard doubt success, Stout men are oft with sudden onsets daunted, What shall this Stage-player be? This for thy own sake, this for ours we beg, That thou wilt suffer him to be overcome; Why shouldst thou keep so many vowed swords From such a hated throat? And at adventurer what by stoutness can Befall us worse, then will by cowardice? If both the people, and the soldier failde us, Yet shall we die at least worthy our selves, Worthy our ancestors: Oh Piso think, Think on that day, when in the Parthian fields Thou cryedst to the flying Legions to turn, And look Death in the face; he was not grim, But fair and lovely, when he came in arms. Oh why, there died we not on Syrian swords? Were we reserved to prisons, and to chains. Behold the Galley-asses in every street, And even now they come to clap on irons; Must Piso's head be showed upon a pole? Those members torn; 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 civil war Nero prevents, whose cruelty hath left Few Citizens; we are not Roman now, But Moors, and Jews, and utmost Spaniards, And Asia's refuge that do fill the City. But sacred, and inviolate be thy will, And let it led, and I teach us; This sword I could more willingly have thrust Through Nero;s breast; That, fortune denied me, It now shall through Scevinus. What multitudes of villains are here got In a conspiracy; which Hydra Like, Still in the cutting off, increases more. The more we take, the more are still appeach, And every man brings in new company. I wonder what we shall do with them all, The prisons cannot hold more then they have, The Jails are full, the holes with Gallants stink, Straw and gold lace together live I think: 'Twere best even shut the gates oth' City up, And make it all one Jail; for, this I am sure, There's not and honest man within the walls: And though the guilty does exceed the free; Yet through a base, and fatal cowardice, They all assist, in taking one another, And by their own hands are to prison led. There's no condition, nor degree of men, But here are met; Men of the sword, and gown, Plebeans, Senators, and women too, La ies that might have slain him with their Eye, Would use their hands, Philosophers, And Politicians; Politicians? Their plot was laid too short; Poets would now, Not only write, but be the arguments Of Tragedies: The Emperor's much pleased: But some have nam Seneca, and I Will have Petroneus, one promise of pardon, Or fear of torture, will accusers find. exit. What only now we can, we'll follow thee That way thou leadest, and wait on thee in death, Which we had done, had not these hindered us. What have we deserved? You freed the State from wars abroad, but 'twas To spoil at home more safely, and divert The Parthian enmity on us, and yet, The glory rather, and the spoils of war Have wanting been, the lose, and charge we have. Your peace is full of cruelty, and wrong, Laws taught to speak to present purposes, Wealth, and fair houses dangerous faults become, Much blood ith' City, and no common death's, But Gentlemen, and Consulary houses: On Caesars own house look, hath that been free? Hath he not shed the blood he calls divine? Hath not that nearness which should love beget Always on him, been cause of hate, and fear; Virtue, and power suspected, and kept down: They whose great ancestors this Empire made, Distrusted in the government thereof; A happy state, where Decius is a traitor, Narcissus true, nor only wast unsafe T'offend the Prince, his freed men worse were feared, whose wrongs with such insulting pride were herd, That even the faulty it made innocent: If we complained, that was it self a crime, I, though it were to Caesars benefit; Our writings pried into, falce guiltiness (Thinking each taxing pointed out it self) Our private whisperings listened after; nay, Our thoughts were forced out of us, and punished: And had it been in you, to have taken away Our understanding, as you did our speech, You would have made us thought this honest too? His long continued taxes I forbear, In which he chiefly 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 spoil more odious, then the use, They were employed on, spent on shame, and lust Which still have been so endless in their change, And made us know a diverse servitude. But that he hath been suffered so long, And prospered, as you say: for that, to thee Oh Heaven, I turn my self, and cry; No God Hath care of us, yet have we our revenge, As much as Earth may be revenged on Heaven; Their divine honour Nero shall usurp, And prayers, and feasts, and adoration have, As well as Jupiter. Nay, Nay, although the thing be full of fear. Why, what will you say for him? hath h not Sought to suppress your Poem, to bereave That honour every tongue in duty paid it. Nay, what can you say for him, hath he not Broa'cht his own wives (a chased wives) breast, and to ne With Scythian hands his Mother's bowels up, The Inhospitable Caucasus is mild: The More, that, in the boiling desert, seeks With blood of stranger to imbrue his jaws Upbraids the Roman, now with barbarousness 'Tis answered, as I looked for, noble Poet, Worthy the double Laurel; Flavius, Good luck I see, does virtuous meanings aid, And therefore have the Heavens forborn their duties, To grace our swords with glorious blood of Tyrants. Here waits Poppea her Nimphidius coming, And hath this garden, and these walks chosen out, To bless her with more pleasures then their own: Not only Arras hangings, and silk beeds Are guilty of the faults we blame them for: Somewhat these Arbours, and you trees do know, Whilst you kind shades, you to these night sports show. Night sports? Faith, they are done in open day, And the Sun see'th, and envieth their play. Hither have I Lovesick Antonius brought, And thrust him on occasion so long sought: Showed him the Empress in a thicket by, Her loves approach waiting with greedy Eye; And told him, if he ever meant to prove, The doubtful issue of his hopeless Love; This is the place, and time wherein to try it, Women will here the suit, that will deny it. The suit's not hard that she comes for to take; Who (hot in lust of men) does difference make? At last, loath, willing, to her did he pace; Arm him Priapus, with thy powerful Mace. But see, they coming are; how they agree Here will I harken, shroud me gentle tree. I have from Fortune's Temple taken this sword, May it be fortunate, and now at least Since it could not prevent, punish the Evil; To Room it had been better done before, But though less helping now, they'le praise it more. Great Sovereign of all mortal actions Whom only wretched men, and Poets blame, Speed thou the weapon, which I have from thee. 'Twas not amid thy Temple Monuments In vain reposed, somewhat I know it hath done: Oh with new honours let it be laid up: Strike boldly, arm so many powerful prayers Of dead, and living hover over thee. Our deed is honest, why should it seek corners? 'Tis for the people done, let them behold it; Let me have them a witness of my truth, And love toth' Commonwealth; The danger's greater, So is the glory. Why should our pale counsels Tend whither fear, rather then virtue calls them: I do not Like these cold considerings; First, let our thoughts look up to what is honest, Next, to what's safe; If danger may deter us, Nothing that's great, or good shall ere be done; And, when we first gave hands upon this deed Toth' commons safety, we our own gave up. Let not man venture on a princes death, How bade soever, with belief to escape; Despair must be our hope, fame, or reward. To make the general liking to concur With others, were even to strike him in his shame, Or (as he thinks) his glory, on the Stage, And so too truly make't a Tragedy; When all the people cannot choose but clap So sweet a close, and it'll not Caesar be That shall be slain, a Roman Prince: 'Twill be Alemaeon, or blind Oedipus. In Caesars ruin, Anthony was spared: ets not our cause with needless blood distain, One only moved, the change will not appear When too much licence given to the sword, Though against ill, will make even good men fear: Beside, things settled, you at pleasure may By Law, and public Judgement have them rid.