_Thr._ Well, but the wrongs he hath done His pride alloys, or in pretensed retirement Repudiates; ánd, could he feel his guilt, 100 That were remorse, whose sick and painful palsy Cannot raise hand to strike. Think you that he, Who laughed at Claudius’ death; who let be slain His old friend and protectress Agrippina; Who glozed the murder of Britannicus; Who hid his protest when Octavia fell; That he will turn about and say, ‘Such things I did for Nero, and the good of Rome: Now, since he sings at Naples on the stage, I do repent me, and will kill my pupil; Will take myself the power I made for him, And shew how I intended he should rule!’ This were a Roman but not Seneca. _Pr._ We look not fór it óf him. _Thr._ ’Tis all one. Seneca! the millionaire! _Pr._ If he consent, We restore the republic. _Thr._ The Republic! The Decii and Camilli will you bring us? That kingly yeoman, frugal Curius? Can you restore the brave considerate Gracchi, And Cato’s stern unconquerable soul?... O nay: but Seneca the imperialist!—— Priscus, if Seneca refuse, thou’lt make A promise for ten years? _Pr._ With that reserve; And wilt thou not say five years? _Thr._ I’ll say five, If thou wilt promise. _Pr._ Then, if Seneca 125 Refuse, I pledge myself to take no part In any plot against the emperor For five years. _Thr._ Come within, Fannia is thine. [_Exeunt._ SCENE ·• 2 _Naples. A marine tavern, the open court of it, with fountain at centre, and low colonnade around. On the left at a table some Mariners are drinking and playing with dice. On the right are Officers sitting apart and drinking. Towards the front PROCULUS (the Admiral) and SENECIO. EPICHARIS is serving the Officers._ _SENECIO._ I do beg of you, my lord! _PROCULUS._ Why so frightened, sir, at a little trembling of the soil? Had the Gods any appetite to swallow you, think you that they would trouble to provide warnings for your escape? _Se^{o.}_ I do pray you, my lord admiral, take me on board your galley for to-night; only for to-night. _Pro._ We are under Cæsar’s orders to sail for the Adriatic, sir; else I might strain to make some cabin accommodation: but then that would be for the ladies. Epicharis, help this gentleman to wine; he’s nervous: some more drink, and I think he’ll be as brave as any of us. _EPICHARIS._ ’Twill be at my cost, your excellence. _Pro._ Nay, I’ll cover that. Come, drink, sir, and cheer your soul. That’s the only kindness I can do you. _Se^{o.}_ Thank you, my lord, but I ... (_a rumbling heard._) Oh! oh! there it is again.