Sejanus: His Fall Part 3

Cor. [salutes Sabinus] Hail to your lords.h.i.+p!

Nat. [whispers Latiaris.] Who's that salutes your cousin?

Lat.

'Tis one Cordus, A gentleman of Rome: one that has writ Annals of late, they say, and very well.

Nat. Annals! of what times?

Lat.

I think of Pompey's, And Caius Caesar's; and so down to these.

Nat.

How stands he affected to the present state!

Is he or Drusian, or Germanic, Or ours, or neutral?

Lat. I know him not so far.

Nat.

Those times are somewhat queasy to be touch'd.

Have you or seen, or heard part of his work?

Lat. Not I; he means they shall be public shortly.

Nat. O, Cordus do you call him?

Lat. Ay. [Exeunt Natta and Satrius

Sab.

But these our times Are not the same, Arruntius.

Arr.

Times! the men, The men are not the same: 'tis we are base, Poor, and degenerate from the exalted strain Of our great fathers. Where is now the soul Of G.o.d-like Cato? he, that durst be good, When Caesar durst be evil; and had power, As not to live his slave, to die his master?

Or where's the constant Brutus, that being proof Against all charm of benefits, did strike So brave a blow into the monster's heart That sought unkindly to captive his country?

O, they are fled the light! Those mighty spirits Lie raked up with their ashes in their urns, And not a spark of their eternal fire Glows in a present bosom. All's but blaze, Flashes and smoke, wherewith we labour so, There's nothing Roman in us; nothing good, Gallant, or great: 'tis true that Cordus says, "Brave Ca.s.sius was the last of all that race."

Drusus pa.s.ses over the stage, attended by HATERIUS, etc.

Sab. Stand by! lord Drusus.

Hat. The emperor's son! give place.

Sil. I like the prince well.

Arr.

A riotous youth; There's little hope of him.

Sab.

That fault his age Will, as it grows, correct. Methinks he bears Himself each day more n.o.bly than other; And wins no less on men's affections, Than doth his father lose. Believe me, I love him; And chiefly for opposing to Seja.n.u.s.

Sil.

And I, for gracing his young kinsmen so, The sons of prince Germanicus: it shews A gallant clearness in him, a straight mind, That envies not, in them, their father's name.

Arr.

His name was, while he lived, above all envy; And, being dead, without it. O, that man!

If there were seeds of the old virtue left, They lived in him.

Sil.

He had the fruits, Arruntius, More than the seeds: Sabinus, and myself Had means to know him within; and can report him.

We were his followers, he would call us friends; He was a man most like to virtue; in all, And every action, nearer to the G.o.ds, Than men, in nature; of a body as fair As was his mind; and no less reverend In face, than fame: he could so use his state, Tempering his greatness with his gravity, As it avoided all self-love in him, And spite in others. What his funerals lack'd In images and pomp, they had supplied With honourable sorrow, soldiers' sadness, A kind of silent mourning, such, as men, Who know no tears, but from their captives, use To shew in so great losses.

Cor.

I thought once, Considering their forms, age, manner of deaths, The nearness of the places where they fell, To have parallel'd him with great Alexander: For both were of best feature, of high race, Year'd but to thirty, and, in foreign lands, By their own people alike made away.

Sab, I know not, for his death, how you might wrest it: But, for his life, it did as much disdain Comparison, with that voluptuous, rash, Giddy, and drunken Macedon's, as mine Doth with my bondman's. All the good in him, His valour and his fortune, he made his; But he had other touches of late Romans, That more did speak him: Pompey's dignity, The innocence of Cato, Caesar's spirit, Wise Brutus' temperance; and every virtue, Which, parted unto others, gave them name, Flow'd mix'd in him. He was the soul of goodness; And all our praises of him are like streams Drawn from a spring, that still rise full, and leave The part remaining greatest.

Arr.

I am sure He was too great for us, and that they knew Who did remove him hence.

Sab.

When men grow fast Honour'd and loved. there is a trick in state, Which jealous princes never fail to use, How to decline that growth, with fair pretext, And honourable colours of employment, Either by emba.s.sy, the war, or such, To s.h.i.+ft them forth into another air, Where they may purge and lessen; so was he: And had his seconds there, sent by Tiberius, And his more subtile dam, to discontent him; To breed and cherish mutinies; detract His greatest actions; give audacious check To his commands; and work to put him out In open act of treason. All which snares When his wise cares prevented, a fine poison Was thought on, to mature their practices.

Enter SEJa.n.u.s talking to TERENTIUS, followed by SATRlUS, NATTA, etc.

Cor. Here comes Seja.n.u.s.

Sil.

Now observe the stoops, The bendings, and the falls.

Arr. Most creeping base!

Sej. [to Natta.] I note them well: no more. Say you?

Sat.

My lord, There is a gentleman of Rome would buy-

Sej. How call you him you talk'd with?

Sat.

Please your lords.h.i.+p, It is Eudemus, the physician to Livia, Drusus' wife.

Sej. On with your suit. Would buy, you said-

Sat. A tribune's place, my lord.

Sej. What will he give?

Sat. Fifty sestertia.

Sej. Livia's physician, say you, is that fellow?