Arr.

They that before, like gnats, play'd in his beams, And throng'd to circ.u.mscribe him, now not seen Nor deign to hold a common seat with him!

Others, that waited him unto the senate, Now inhumanely ravish him to prison, Whom, but this morn, they follow'd as their lord!

Guard through the streets, bound like a fugitive, Instead of wreaths give fetters, strokes for stoops, Blind shames for honours, and black taunts for t.i.tles!

Who would trust slippery chance?

Lep.

They that would make Themselves her spoil; and foolishly forget, When she doth flatter, that she comes to prey.

Fortune, thou hadst no deity, if men Had wisdom: we have placed thee so high, By fond belief in thy felicity.

[Shout within.] The G.o.ds guard Caesar!

All the G.o.ds guard Caesar!

Re-enter MACRO, REGULUS, and divers Senators.

Mac.

Now, great Seja.n.u.s, you that awed the state, And sought to bring the n.o.bles to your whip; That would be Caesar's tutor, and dispose Of dignities and offices! that had The public head still bare to your designs, And made the general voice to echo yours!

That look'd for salutations twelve score off, And would have pyramids, yea temples, rear'd To your huge greatness; now you lie as flat, As was your pride advanced!

Reg. Thanks to the G.o.ds!

Sen.

And praise to Macro, that hath saved Rome!

Liberty, liberty, liberty! Lead on, And praise to Macro, that hath saved Rome!

[Exeunt all but Arruntius and Lepidus.

Arr.

I prophesy, out of the senate's flattery, That this new fellow, Macro, will become A greater prodigy in Rome, than he That now is fallen.

Enter TERENTIUS.

Ter.

O you, whose minds are good, And have not forced all mankind from your b.r.e.a.s.t.s; That yet have so much stock of virtue left, To pity guilty states, when they are wretched: Lend your soft ears to hear, and eyes to weep, Deeds done by men, beyond the acts of furies.

The eager mult.i.tude (who never yet Knew why to love or hate, but only pleased T' express their rage of power) no sooner heard The murmur of Seja.n.u.s in decline, But with that speed and heat of appet.i.te, With which they greedily devour the way To some great sports, or a new theatre, They fill'd the Capitol, and Pompey's Cirque, Where, like so many mastiffs, biting stones, As if his statues now were sensitive Of their wild fury; first, they tear them down; Then fastening ropes, drag them along the streets, Crying in scorn, This, this was that rich head Was crown'd with garlands, and with odours, this That was in Rome so reverenced! Now The furnace and the bellows shall to work, The great Seja.n.u.s crack, and piece by piece Drop in the founder's pit.

Lep. O popular rage!

Ter.

The whilst the senate at the temple of Concord Make haste to meet again, and thronging cry, Let us condemn him, tread him down in water, While he doth lie upon the bank; away!

While some more tardy, cry unto their bearers, He will be censured ere we come; run, knaves, And use that furious diligence, for fear Their bondmen should inform against their slackness, And bring their quaking flesh unto the hook: The rout they follow with confused voice, Crying, they're glad, say, they could ne'er abide him, Enquire what man he was, what kind of face, What beard he had, what nose, what lips?

Protest They ever did presage he'd come to this; They never thought him wise, nor valiant; ask After his garments, when he dies, what death; And not a beast of all the herd demands, What was his crime, or who were his accusers, Under what proof or testimony he fell?

There came, says one, a huge long-worded letter From Capreae against him. Did there so?

O, they are satisfied; no more.

Lep. Alas!

They follow Fortune, and hate men condemn'd, Guilty or not.

Arr.

But had Seja.n.u.s thrived In his design, and prosperously opprest The old Tiberius; then, in that same minute, These very rascals, that now rage like furies, Would have proclaim'd Seja.n.u.s emperor.

Lep. But what hath follow'd?

Ter.

Sentence by the senate, To lose his head; which was no sooner off, But that and the unfortunate trunk were seized By the rude mult.i.tude; who not content With what the forward justice of the state.

Officiously had done, with violent rage Have rent it limb from limb. A thousand heads, A thousand hands, ten thousand tongues and voices, Employ'd at once in several acts of malice!

Old men not staid with age, virgins with shame, Late wives with loss of husbands, mothers of children, Losing all grief in joy of his sad fall, Run quite transported with their cruelty!

These mounting at his head, these at his face, These digging out his eyes, those with his brains Sprinkling themselves, their houses and their friends; Others are met, have ravish'd thence an arm, And deal small pieces of the flesh for favours; These with a thigh, this hath cut off his hands, And this his feet; these fingers and these toes; That hath his liver, he his heart: there wants Nothing but room for wrath, and place for hatred!

What cannot oft be done, is now o'erdone.

The whole, and all of what was great Seja.n.u.s, And, next to Caesar, did possess the World, Now torn and scatter'd, as he needs no grave; Each little dust covers a little part: So lies he no where, and yet often buried!

Enter NUNTIUS Arr. More of Seja.n.u.s

Nun. Yes.

Lep.

What can be added?

We know him dead.

Nun.

Then there begin your pity.

There is enough behind to melt ev'n Rome, And Caesar into tears; since never slave Could yet so highly offend, but tyranny, In torturing him, would make him worth lamenting.---- A son and daughter to the dead Seja.n.u.s, (Of whom there is not now so much remaining As would give fast'ning to the hangman's hook,) Have they drawn forth for farther sacrifice; Whose tenderness of knowledge, unripe years, And childish silly innocence was such, As scarce would lend them feeling of their danger: The girl so simple, as she often ask'd "Where they would lead her? for what cause they dragg'd her?"

Cried, "She would do no more:" that she could take "Warning with beating." And because our laws Admit no virgin immature to die, The wittily and strangely cruel Macro Deliver'd her to be deflower'd and spoil'd, By the rude l.u.s.t of the licentious hangman, Then to be strangled with her harmless brother.

Lep.

O, act most worthy h.e.l.l, and lasting night, To hide it from the world!

Nun.

Their bodies thrown Into the Gemonies, (I know not how, Or by what accident return'd.) the mother, The expulsed Apicata, finds them there; Whom when she saw lie spread on the degrees, After a world of fury on herself, Tearing her hair, defacing of her face, Beating her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and womb, kneeling amaz'd, Crying to heaven, then to them; at last, Her drowned voice gat up above her woes, And with such black and bitter execrations, As might affright the G.o.ds, and force the sun Run backward to the east; nay, make the old Deformed chaos rise again, to o'erwhelm Them, us, and all the world, she fills the air, Upbraids the heavens with their partial dooms, Defies their tyrannous powers, and demands, What she, and those poor innocents have transgress'd, That they must suffer such a share in vengeance, Whilst Livia, Lygdus, and Eudemus live, Who, as she says, and firmly vows to prove it To Caesar and the senate, poison'd Drusus?

Lup. Confederates with her husband!

Nun. Ay.

Lep. Strange act!

Arr.

And strangely open'd: what says now my monster, The mult.i.tude? they reel now, do they not?

Nun.

Their gall is gone, and now they 'gin to weep The mischief they have done.

Arr. I thank 'em, rogues.

Nun.

Part are so stupid, or so flexible, As they believe him innocent; all grieve: And some whose hands yet reek with his warm blood, And gripe the part which they did tear of him, Wish him collected and created new.

Lep.

How Fortune plies her sports, when she begins To practise them! pursues, continues, adds, Confounds with varying her impa.s.sion'd moods!

Arr.

Dost thou hope, Fortune, to redeem thy crimes, To make amend for thy ill-placed favours, With these strange punishments? Forbear, you things That stand upon the pinnacles of state, To boast your slippery height; when you do fall, You pash yourselves in pieces, ne'er to rise; And he that lends you pity, is not wise.

Ter.