_Pr._ If Thrasea’s heart Is comforted by virtue, sir, and Nero Made wretched by his crime ... _Sen._ Then put it thus: If any were to make a tragedy Of these events, how would it pass or please, If Nero lived on at the end unpunished, Triumphing still o’er good? _Thr._ Yes, Seneca: But see you make not now your god of the stage The God of Nature. Our true tragedy Is just this outward riddle, and the god That mends all, comes not in pat at his cue On a machine, but liveth in our hearts Resolving evil faster than it falls, As the sun melts the snow. _Sen._ ’Tis not enough, Thrasea, ’tis not enough: there must be more. * * * * * Hear you a tramping? That is Cæsar’s men: They will surround the garden. Come aside. (_Comes to front with Thrasea._) Stand by me, Thrasea, to the last. I would not 2675 Slur the last act of life. Be thou my witness Of word and deed. _Enter Paullina with Fannia, who goes to Priscus._ _PAULLINA._ O Seneca, they are come; They are come again. _Sen._ Dear wife, remember, and help me.— See, friends, the sun is almost set; ’tis time We went within. _Pau._ Alas! (_weeping._) _Sen._ (_to Paullina_). Thy tears distract me, And shame us both. _Enter a Centurion._ _CENTURION._ Annæus Seneca! _Sen._ Well, sir: thy message? Art not thou Silvanus, That stoodst with Rufus and with Subrius Flavus? How hast thou wriggled out? _Cent._ I am Silvanus, And bring thee Cæsar’s bidding. _Sen._ Is it death? _Cent._ ’Tis death. _Pau._ Shame on thee. _Sen._ Hush, wife: be brave.—A man Need not be shamed, sirs, that his wife bewail him. (_To Paullina._) Go thou, Paullina, fetch my will. _Cent._ Stay, madam: ’Tis not allowed. _Sen._ This is unkind: my wealth Was Cæsar’s gift: but now he takes from me More than he ever gave, my life: ’tis mean To grudge me my last freedom, the little use I’d make of his old favours. I but wished To leave mementoes to three loving friends, Who have supped with me to-night.—In lieu thereof The example of my constancy shall be More lively undelayed by gentle speeches And farewell gifts. Come with me, all is ready. _Cent._ I await thee. _Sen._ Farewell, friends! Farewell, Paullina! _Pau._ Not to me here. _Sen._ Yes, we must part: the day Is not much hastened. See how skeleton-like Already the hand, with which I go to shear The filmy threads of life. _Pau._ But I will die With thee.