(SCENE 3.)

Enter Nero, Poppea, Nimphidius, Epaphroditus, Neophilus and others.

Nero. Now, fayre Poppea, see thy Nero shine In bright Achaias spoyles and Rome in him. The Capitall hath other Trophies seene Then it was wont; not spoyles with blood bedew'd Or the unhappy obsequies of Death, But such as Caesars cunning, not his force, Hath wrung from Greece too bragging of her art.

Tigell. And in this strife the glories all your owne, Your tribunes cannot share this prayse with you; Here your Centurions hath no part at all, Bootless your Armies and your Eagles were; No Navies helpt to bring away this conquest.

Nimph. Even Fortunes selfe, Fortune the Queene of Kingdomes, That Warrs grim valour graceth with her deeds, Will claime no portion in this Victorie.

Nero. Not Bacchus[7] drawn from Nisa downe with Tigers, Curbing with viny rains their wilful heads Whilst some doe gape upon his Ivy Thirse, Some on the dangling grapes that crowne his head, All praise his beautie and continuing youth; So strooke amased India with wonder As Neroes glories did the Greekish townes, Elis and Pisa and the rich Micenae, Junonian Argos and yet Corinth proud Of her two Seas; all which ore-come did yeeld To me their praise and prises of their games.

Poppea. Yet in your Greekish iourney, we do heare, Sparta and Athens, the two eyes of Greece, Neither beheld your person or your skill; Whether because they did afford no games Or for their too much gravitie.

Nero. Why, what Should I have seene in them? but in the one Hunger, black pottage and men hot to die Thereby to rid themselves of misery: And what in th'other? but short Capes, long Beards; Much wrangling in things needlesse to be knowne, Wisedome in words and onely austere faces. I will not be Aieceleaus nor Solon. Nero was there where he might honour win; And honour hath he wonn and brought from Greece Those spoyles which never Roman could obtaine, Spoyles won by witt and Tropheis of his skill.

Nimph. What a thing he makes it to be a Minstrill!

Poppea. I prayse your witt, my Lord, that choose such safe Honors, safe spoyles, won without dust or blood.

Nero. What, mock ye me, Poppea?

Poppea. Nay, in good faith, my Lord, I speake in earnest: I hate that headie and adventurous crew That goe to loose their owne to purchase but The breath of others and the common voyce; Them that will loose their hearing for a sound, That by death onely seeke to get a living, Make skarrs there beautie and count losse of Limmes The commendation of 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.