ACT ·• V SCENE ·• 1 _A strong room in the palace dungeon. TIGELLINUS seated at a table CENTRE. NATALIS scared, and with his hands bound behind him, stands_ R. _before two Guards_. _TIGELLINUS_ (_to Guards_). Leave him.— [_Exeunt Guards._ Natalis, thou hast had a taste of the rack? _NATALIS_ (_kneels_). Mercy, my lord; have mercy on me I pray thee: I will tell all, and better without torture. _Tig._ So far I have had mercy, sir: I have shown thee In this Epicharis what thou mayst look for, 2100 Should I lack mercy. Canst thou too be silent? _Nat._ Nay, my lord, nay. My lord, I am not brave. Knowing I cannot suffer, I will speak truth Without the torture. _Tig._ Truth, fool! what is that? I haggle not with thee for thine own tale: That cannot serve thee. I require of thee Such answers as best please me. _Nat._ I will confess. _Tig._ Thou hast betrayed thy master Piso; now Tell me, was Seneca in this conspiracy? _Nat._ No, my lord. _Tig._ (_calling_). Guards! _Nat._ I swear he was not. (_Enter Guards._) _Tig._ Guards! Take him to torture. _Nat._ Oh, my lord, have pity! Ask me not this. _Tig._ I’ll ask thee nothing else While thou art parting with thy skin. Once more: Was Seneca in this conspiracy? _Nat._ He was. _Tig._ Just as I thought; hold fast to that; Else, by great Jupiter, the things thou hast seen Are nothing.—Take him off and send in the other. [_Exeunt Guards with Natalis._ Now I am rid of Seneca. This method Is easy and short. The foolish rich Scevinus May serve me another way. _Enter two Guards with Scevinus, whose hands are bound before him._ (_To Guards._) Leave him.—(_Exeunt Guards._) Scevinus, Cæsar hath ordered thee the rack. _SCEVINUS_ (_kneels_). My lord, Have pity upon me I beg. I turn informer. I will betray it all: I withhold nothing. _Tig._ Thou hast seen the torture of Epicharis.... _Sce._ O, my dear lord, not that! mercy! _Tig._ Since she Hath baulked my inquisitors, I have promised them Some noisy victim to restore their credit. _Sce._ Not me, not me! _Tig._ And why not thee? I think thee A likely fellow. _Sce._ My lord, I am too tender. The least prick of my finger, or if the wine 2130 I drink be overheated, ’tis enough To put me in a frenzy: I should die At first stretch of the rack. _Tig._ Pooh! man: they’d keep thee Alive for a week.—