_Nero_. O now I see the vizard from my face, So lovely and so fearefull, is fall'n off, That vizard, shadow, nothing, Maiestie, Which, like a child acquainted with his feares, But now men trembled at and now contemne. _Nero_ forsaken is of all the world, The world of truth. O fall some vengeance downe Equall unto their falsehoods and my wrongs! Might I accept the Chariot of the Sunne And like another _Phaeton_ consume In flames of all the world, a pile of Death Worthy the state and greatnesse I have lost! Or were I now but Lord of my owne fires Wherein false Rome yet once againe might smoake And perish, all unpitied of her Gods, That all things in their last destruction might Performe a funerall honour to their Lord! O _Iove_ dissolve with _Caesar Caesars_ world; Or you whom _Nero_ rather should invoke, Blacke _Chaos_ and you fearefull shapes beneath, That with a long and not vaine envy have Sought to destroy this worke of th'other Gods; Now let your darknesse cease the spoyles of day, And the worlds first contention end your strife. _Enter two Romanes to him_. 1 _Rom_. Though others, bound with greater benefits, Have left your changed fortunes and doe runne Whither new hopes doe call them, yet come we. _Nero_. O welcome come you to adversitie; Welcome, true friends. Why, there is faith on earth; Of thousand servants, friends and followers, Yet two are left. Your countenance, me thinks, Gives comfort and new hopes. 2 _Rom_. Doe not deceive your thoughts: My Lord, we bring no comfort,--would we could,-- But the last duty to performe and best We ever shall, a free death to persuade, To cut off hopes of fearcer cruelty And scorne, more cruell to a worthy soule. 1 _Rom_. The Senate have decreed you're punishable After the fashion of our ancestors, Which is, your necke being locked in a forke, You must be naked whipt and scourg'd to death.