NERO

A light thing it's for to be joust, I see For him, whose heart is void of shrinking fear. And is this then enough, dost thou so well, Oh soldier mark what does thy captain tell? Hast thou with held thy hand from bloody ire? Is this the endue revenge that we require? Our foes to slay, a chefetaines virtue call. It well beseems such aged wights, to teach, Unbridled springolls young, and not to preach, Both to a man, and prince of riper years. (This age sufficient reason ought to have.) A madnesse't were to Gods for me to bow, When I my self can make such Gods to be: As Claudius now ycounted is we see. A patch he is that knoweth not what he may. If that I were a mecock, or a slouch, Eke stubborn, clubbish daw would make Me couch. Then, dint of sword the prince defendeth well. Full meet it is that Caesar dreaded be. From subjects minds fear must not be removed. Well hardly then our will let them obey. We will decree what we shall best suppose. What then, why Seneck do you that approve, That we contemnde, despised, and set at nought, With finger put in hold (full wisely wrought) Our bodies blood to seek should them abide, That they might us sometime destroy unspied? Their native country bounds to bannisht been, Nor Plautius breast nor Sulla's eke we see Hath broke, or tamde: whose cankered churlish ire, Shapes bloody freaks to quench our bodies fire. And chiefly when these traitorous absent clowns, Such wondrous favour find in cities bownes, Which those same exiles lingering hope does feed: Suspected foes with sword we will out weed. And so Octavia shall that ioyly dame, Continue after them their bloody game. And weened that way her noun white brother went, Such hie mistrusted things must needs be bent. The gift of Gods it is, as we discus, That Room with Senate sort does honour us. And that the fear of our displeasure great, From cankered envious stomachs makes sweat Both humble talk, and supplications meek. And were not fear all these would be to seek. Unwieldy, cumbrous cities members ill, That prince, and country both do seek to spill, To leave alive (which swell, and puffed been, Because of lineage great, and hie degree) What madness mere is it when as we may, Even with a word, such freaks dispatch away? Sir Brutus stern, his brawns and arms did dight. His sovereign liege to slain by force and might, That erst had helped him, and given him health, And had endued him with princely wealth. In brunt of raging war, undaunted out, That vanquished many people strong, and stout, Prince Caesar, mateht, by great degrees of power. To Jove, in stately chair of starry bower, By devilish citizens wicked wile, was slain. What store of bloody, stifling streams on mould Did tattered Room, of his own limbs, behold? He by his noble virtues worthy praise, Whom peoples common bruit to heaven does raise, August, among the Gods ysaincted well, How many noble breasts did he compel, How many springolds young, and hoary heads, Eke where dispersed, to lig in moulded beds? How many men did he bereave of breath, Tofore proscript, that were condemned to death? When for the grisly fear of deadly dart, From proper home they were constrained to partly, And fly Octavius force, and Lepidus might, And not abide stern Mark Antonius sighed, Which then the ample world at once did guide, That into kingdoms three they did divide. To dumpish sadded sires, with heavy cheer, Their childrens grisly cropped pates appear, Hung out before the Senates judgement seat, For eke man to behold in open street: Ne durst they once lament their piteous case, Nor inward seem to morn to Claudius face. The market stead, with blood from bodies spewed, And loathsome mattry streams, is all embrued: And, quite throughout, their faces foul arayde The pitcous gubs of blood drop down, unstaid. Nor here did this same slaughterous bloodshed stay: Phyllips, Pharsalia ghastly fields eke day The cromming ravening fool's, and cruel beasts, Long fed, with gobbets big of manly breasts. Beside all this, the coast he scoured quite Of Sicily sea, and ships to war yoyght With force of arms did win: and havoc made Of proper subjects, slain with his own blade. The rundle round of lands with mighty main Of noble chieftains stroke, reboils again. Antonius overcome in naval fight, To Egypt posts in ships prepared to flight: Not looking long to live, nor hoping life. Incestuous Egypt (through Antonius wife) That worthy Roman princes blood, did suck: And covered lie their goasts with dirty muck. Long wicked, waged civil war, there stayed, In Mark Antonius graven, with him ylayed. Augustus at the last, of conquest great His dulled swords, that wounded souls did Beatrice In peaceable sheaths reposed, hath laid at rest: And fear does rule, and guide his kingdom best. By ready force of arms at all assays, And Captains say he shields himself always: Whom now his sons most worthy virtues praise, To heaven a consecrated God does raise, And causeth all, in Churches for to place The sacred Picture of prince Claudius grace. And us, the starry reign of Gods shall bide If first, with dreadful sword about us wide, We wipe away, what so our person stain: And found our court with worthy stem again. Incestuous married dams, from stock, and stem, Detract all hope, that we should have of them. Nor us, could she once love, that we could see, Nor with our person once at all agree. Thus we our self with hope in vain did feed: Although undoubted signs, as body wried, And frowning looks, which we have oft espied, His spiteful, hating stomach did bewray Which she does bear, whom duty binds to obey. Which yet at last, big, boiling, grievous pain With death determinde hath avenge again. We have found out, for birth, and beauty's grace A worthy make, for such and Empress place: To whom, that lovely goddess, Venus bright, And mighty Jove his spouse that Juno hight, And goddess fierce in boisterous warlike arts, Gives place for bodies seemly portraid parts. What praises woman wights have in the ̄ closed? All those, in his alone hath God reposed. And such a peerless peer, the guides of life, The destinies would have born to be our wife. Whom Jove can not repel that rules the clouds, And piercing raging floods, therein him shrouds, And ranges through the reign of Plutos pit, And pulls down in welkin High that fit The mighty powers of heaven, the God of love? And can I then his force from me remove? This self same God, I wish with all my heart The wedlock lights to bear before our grace, And fasten Poppy, sure, in our bed place. Shall I alone to do, forbidden been, That every patch may do? that grieveth Me. It pleases us, with daunted power, to try, If peoples rash conceived rage, will fly. Ill ruled is that reign where people wood, Their subject prince does wielded, as they think good. That gentle prayers can not win with ease, By force to wring it out, it does us please. And horrible it's a Prince to be constrained. Why then the common bruit abroad will be. How that the people have subdued me. Be it so, yet many it marks with deadly spite. Leave off, I say, that we intend, to grutch. For now your talk, our patience moves much: I pray you let it lawful be to do, That Seneck gives not advise unto. And we, our peoples wishes do defer, While Poppy feel in wombling womb to ster, The pledge of faithful love to me, and her. Why do we not appoint the morrow next, When as our marriage pomp may be context? Our power permits us all without denay. To quip and frump, it's nothing less dismayed. It shall assign which time shall never wear. Which neither wrath may end, nor yet our fear? She shall appease our High displeased mind, Who first, our wrath deserved endue to find. It seeks our sisters death, and traitorous head. Us to obey Stands thou in doubt? Because thou sparedst our foe. If treason she begin. The peoples rage: Who could stir up their spirits? A woman could, In whom a mind Dame nature hath vpfould, To mischief prove: she armed hath his heart, To hurt by miles: yet strength she set a partly, Least she undaunted force with his should bear: But now his slender power with doubting fear, Is quickly quaylde, or else with punishment, Which his condemned state to mischief bent, To late does end: away with graven advise, Us with entreating seek not to entice. Dispatch that we command on shipboorde born, Far off to shore aloof with dashing worn, Command she be: that tunlike swelling breast At length in storming stomach may take rest.