Act 4 — [Scene V.][1508]

Arr. Still dost thou suffer, heaven! Will no flame, No heat of sin, make thy just wrath to boil In thy distemp’red bosom, and o’erflow The pitchy blazes of impiety, Kindled beneath thy throne! Still canst thou sleep,5 Patient, while vice doth make an antic face At thy dread power, and blow dust and smoke Into thy nostrils! Jove, will nothing wake thee? Must vile Sejanus pull thee by the beard, Ere thou wilt open thy black-lidded eye,10 And look him dead? Well! snore on, dreaming gods; And let this last of that proud giant-race Heave mountain upon mountain ’gainst your state.— Be good unto me, Fortune and you powers, Whom I, expostulating, have profan’d;15 I see (what’s equal with a prodigy) A great, a noble Roman, and an honest, Live an old man!— [Enter Lepidus.][1509] O Marcus Lepidus, When is our turn to bleed? Thyself and I, Without our boast, are a’most all the few20 Left to be honest in these impious times. Lep. What we are left to be, we will be, Lucius; Though tyranny did stare as wide as death, To fright us from it. Arr. ’T hath so on Sabinus. Lep. I saw him now drawn from the Gemonies,[1510]26 And what increas’d the direness of the fact, His faithful dog, upbraiding all us Romans, Never forsook the corpse, but, seeing it thrown Into the stream, leap’d in, and drown’d with it. Arr. O act, to be envi’d him of us men!30 We are the next the hook lays hold on. Marcus What are thy arts, good patriot, teach them me, That have preserv’d thy hairs to this white dye, And kept so reverend and so dear a head Safe on his comely shoulders? Lep. Arts, Arruntius!35 None, but the plain and passive fortitude, To suffer and be silent; never stretch These arms against the torrent; live at home, With my own thoughts and innocence about me, Not tempting the wolves’ jaws: these are my arts.40 Arr. I would begin to study ’em, if I thought They would secure me. May I pray to Jove In secret and be safe? ay, or aloud, With open wishes, so I do not mention Tiberius or Sejanus? Yes, I must,45 If I speak out. ’T is hard, that. May I think, And not be rackt? What danger is ’t to dream, Talk in one’s sleep, or cough? Who knows the law? May I shake my head without a comment? say It rains, or it holds up, and not be thrown50 Upon the Gemonies? These now are things, Whereon men’s fortune, yea, their fate depends. Nothing hath privilege ’gainst the violent ear. No place, no day, no hour, we see, is free, (Not our religious and most sacred times)55 From some one kind of cruelty: all matter, Nay, all occasion pleaseth. Madmen’s rage, The idleness of drunkards, women’s nothing, Jester’s simplicity, all, all is good That can be catcht at. Nor is now th’ event60 Of any person, or for any crime, To be expected;[1511] for ’t is always one: Death, with some little difference of place, Or time——What’s this? Prince Nero, guarded!

Lac. On, lictors, keep your way. My lords, forbear.65 On pain of Caesar’s wrath, no man attempt Speech with the prisoner. Ner. Noble friends, be safe; To lose yourselves for words, were as vain hazard, As unto me small comfort. Fare you well. Would all Rome’s sufferings in my fate did dwell!70 Lac. Lictors, away. Lep. Where goes he, Laco? Lac. Sir, He’s banished into Pontia by the senate. Arr. Do I see, and hear, and feel? May I trust sense, Or doth my phant’sie form it? Lep. Where ’s his brother? Lac. Drusus is prisoner in the palace. Arr. Ha!75 I smell it now: ’t is rank. Where’s Agrippina? Lac. The princess is confin’d to Pandataria. Arr. Bolts, Vulcan; bolts for Jove! Phoebus, thy bow; Stern Mars, thy sword; and, blue-ey’d Maid, thy spear; Thy club, Alcides: all the armoury80 Of heaven is too little!—Ha! to guard The gods, I meant. Fine, rare dispatch! This same Was swiftly borne! Confin’d, imprison’d, banish’d? Most tripartite! The cause, sir? Lac. Treason. Arr. O! The complement of all accusings! That85 Will hit, when all else fails. Lep. This turn is strange! But yesterday the people would not hear, Far less objected, but cri’d Caesar’s letters Were false and forg’d; that all these plots were malice; And that the ruin of the prince’s house90 Was practis’d ’gainst his knowledge. Where are now Their voices, now that they behold his heirs Lock’d up, disgrac’d, led into exile? Arr. Hush’d, Drown’d in their bellies. Wild Sejanus’ breath Hath, like a whirlwind, scatter’d that poor dust,95 With his rude blast.—We’ll talk no treason, sir. Turns to Laco, and the rest. If that be it you stand for. Fare you well. We have no need of horse-leeches. Good spy, Now you are spi’d, be gone.

Lep. I fear you wrong him: He has the voice to be an honest Roman.100 Arr. And trusted to this office! Lepidus, I’d sooner trust Greek Sinon than a man Our state employs. He’s gone: and being gone, I dare tell you, whom I dare better trust, That our night-ey’d Tiberius doth not see105 His minion’s drifts; or, if he do, he ’s not So arrant subtile, as we fools do take him; To breed a mongrel up, in his own house. With his own blood, and, if the good gods please, At his own throat flesh him to take a leap.110 I do not beg it, heav’n; but if the fates Grant it these eyes, they must not wink. Lep. They must Not see it, Lucius. Arr. Who should let[1512] ’em? Lep. Zeal, And duty; with the thought he is our prince. Arr. He is our monster: forfeited to vice115 So far, as no rack’d virtue can redeem him. His loathed person fouler than all crimes: An emp’ror only in his lusts. Retir’d, From all regard of his own fame, or Rome’s, Into an obscure island, where he lives120 Acting his tragedies with a comic face, Amidst his rout of Chaldees: spending hours, Days, weeks, and months, in the unkind[1513] abuse Of grave astrology, to the bane of men, Casting the scope of men’s nativities,125 And having found aught worthy in their fortune, Kill, or precipitate them in the sea, And boast he can mock fate. Nay, muse not: these Are far from ends of evil, scarce degrees. He hath his slaughter-house at Capreae;130 Where he doth study murder as an art; And they are dearest in his grace that can Devise the deepest tortures. Thither, too, He hath his boys, and beauteous girls ta’en up Out of our noblest houses, the best form’d,135 Best nurtur’d, and most modest; what’s their good, Serves to provoke his bad. Some are allur’d, Some threat’ned; others, by their friends detain’d, Are ravish’d hence, like captives, and, in sight Of their most grieved parents, dealt away140 Unto his spintries,[1514] sellaries,[1515] and slaves Masters of strange and new commented lusts, For which wise nature hath left not a name. To this (what most strikes us, and bleeding Rome) He is, with all his craft, become the ward145 To his own vassal, a stale catamite.[1514] Whom he, upon our low and suffering necks, Hath raised from excrement to side the gods, And have his proper sacrifice in Rome: Which Jove beholds, and yet will sooner rive150 A senseless oak with thunder than his trunk!

Lac. These letters make men doubtful what t’ expect, Whether his coming, or his death. Pom. Troth, both: And which comes soonest, thank the gods for. Arr. (Aside.) List! Their talk is Caesar; I would hear all voices. 155

Min. One day, he’s well; and will return to Rome; The next day, sick; and knows not when to hope it. Lac. True; and to-day, one of Sejanus’ friends Honour’d by special writ; and on the morrow Another punish’d—— Pom. By more special writ.160 Min. This man receives his praises of Sejanus, A second but slight mention, a third none, A fourth rebukes: and thus he leaves the senate Divided and suspended, all uncertain. Lac. These forked tricks, I understand ’em not:165 Would he would tell us whom he loves or hates, That we might follow, without fear or doubt. Arr. (Aside.) Good Heliotrope! Is this your honest man? Let him be yours so still; he is my knave. Pom. I cannot tell, Sejanus still goes on,170 And mounts, we see; new statues are advanc’d,[1516] Fresh leaves of titles, large inscriptions read, His fortune sworn by, himself new gone out Caesar’s colleague in the fifth consulship; More altars smoke to him than all the gods:175 What would be more? Arr. (Aside.) That the dear smoke would choke him, [That would I more. Lep. Peace, good Arruntius.][1517] Lat. But there are letters come, they say, ev’n now, Which do forbid that last. Min. Do you hear so? Lac. Yes. Pom. By Castor that’s the worst. Arr. (Aside.) By Pollux, best. Min. I did not like the sign, when Regulus, Whom all we know no friend unto Sejanus,182 Did, by Tiberius’ so precise command, Succeed a fellow in the consulship: It boded somewhat. Pom. Not a mote. His partner, Fulcinius Trio, is his own, and sure.—186 Here comes Terentius. [Enter Terentius] He can give us more. [They whisper with Terentius.] Lep. I’ll ne’er believe but Caesar hath some scent Of bold Sejanus’ footing. These cross points Of varying letters, and opposing consuls,190 Mingling his honours and his punishments, Feigning now ill, now well, raising Sejanus, And then depressing him, as now of late In all reports we have it, cannot be Empty of practice: ’t is Tiberius’ art,195 For, having found his favourite grown too great, And with his greatness strong; that all the soldiers Are, with their leaders, made at his devotion; That almost all the senate are his creatures, Or hold on him their main dependencies,200 Either for benefit, or hope, or fear; And that himself hath lost much of his own, By parting unto him; and, by th’ increase Of his rank lusts and rages, quite disarm’d Himself of love, or other public means205 To dare an open contestation; His subtilty hath chose this doubling line, To hold him even in: not so to fear him, As wholly put him out, and yet give check Unto his farther boldness. In mean time,210 By his employments, makes him odious Unto the staggering rout, whose aid, in fine, He hopes to use, as sure, who, when they sway, Bear down, o’erturn all objects in their way.214 Arr. You may be a Lynceus, Lepidus: yet I See no such cause, but that a political tyrant, Who can so well disguise it, should have ta’en A nearer way: feign’d honest, and come home To cut his throat, by law. Lep. Ay, but his fear Would ne’er be mask’d, all be his vices were. Pom. His lordship then is still in grace? Ter. Assure you, Never in more, either of grace or power.223 Pom. The gods are wise and just. Arr. (Aside.) The fiends they are, To suffer thee belie ’em. Ter. I have here His last and present letters, where he writes him,225 “The partner of his cares,” and “his Sejanus.”— Lac. But is that true, if ’t is prohibited To sacrifice unto him? Ter. Some such thing Caesar makes scruple of, but forbids it not; No more than to himself: says he could wish It were forborne to all. Luc. Is it no other?231 Ter. No other, on my trust. For your more surety, Here is that letter too. Arr. (Aside.) How easily Do wretched men believe what they would have!234 Looks this like plot? Lep. (Aside.) Noble Arruntius, stay. Lac. He names him here without his titles. Lep. (Aside.) Note! Arr. (Aside.) Yes, and come off your notable fool. I will. Lac. No other than Sejanus. Pom. That’s but haste In him that writes: here he gives large amends. Mar. And with his own hand written? Pom. Yes. Lac. Indeed? Ter. Believe it, gentlemen, Sejanus’ breast Never receiv’d more full contentments in,242 Than at this present. Pom. Takes he well th’ escape Of young Caligula, with Macro? Ter. Faith, At the first air it somewhat troubled him.245 Lep. (Aside.) Observe you? Arr. (Aside.) Nothing; riddles. Till I see Sejanus struck, no sound thereof strikes me. [Exeunt Arruntius and Lepidus.] Pom. I like it not. I muse he ’d not attempt Somewhat against him in the consulship, Seeing the people ’gin to favour him.250 Ter. He doth repent it now; but he ’s employ’d Pagonianus after him: and he holds That correspondence there, with all that are Near about Caesar, as no thought can pass Without his knowledge, thence, in act to front him.255 Pom. I gratulate the news. Lac. But how comes Macro So in trust and favour with Caligula? Pom. O, sir, he has a wife; and the young prince An appetite: he can look up and spy Flies in the roof, when there are fleas i’ bed;260 And hath a learned nose t’ assure his sleeps. Who to be favour’d of the rising sun, Would not lend little of his waning moon? It is the saf’st ambition. Noble Terentius! Ter. The night grows fast upon us. At your service. 265 [Exeunt.]