MACRO. Now, great Sejanus, you that awed the state, And sought to bring the nobles to your whip; That would be Cæsar’s tutor, and dispose Of dignities and offices! that had The public head still bare to your designs, And made the general voice to echo yours! That look’d for salutations twelve score off, And would have pyramids, yea temples, rear’d To your huge greatness; now you lie as flat, As was your pride advanced! REGULUS. Thanks to the gods! SENATORS. And praise to Macro, that hath saved Rome! Liberty, liberty, liberty! Lead on, And praise to Macro, that hath saved Rome! [_Exeunt all but Arruntius and Lepidus._] ARRUNTIUS. I prophesy, out of the senate’s flattery, That this new fellow, Macro, will become A greater prodigy in Rome, than he That now is fallen. Enter Terentius. TERENTIUS. O you, whose minds are good, And have not forced all mankind from your breasts; That yet have so much stock of virtue left, To pity guilty states, when they are wretched: Lend your soft ears to hear, and eyes to weep, Deeds done by men, beyond the acts of furies. The eager multitude (who never yet Knew why to love or hate, but only pleased T’ express their rage of power) no sooner heard The murmur of Sejanus in decline, But with that speed and heat of appetite, With which they greedily devour the way To some great sports, or a new theatre, They fill’d the Capitol, and Pompey’s Cirque, Where, like so many mastiffs, biting stones, As if his statues now were sensitive Of their wild fury; first, they tear them down; Then fastening ropes, drag them along the streets, Crying in scorn, This, this was that rich head Was crown’d with garlands, and with odours, this That was in Rome so reverenced! Now The furnace and the bellows shall to work, The great Sejanus crack, and piece by piece Drop in the founder’s pit. LEPIDUS. O popular rage! TERENTIUS. The whilst the senate at the temple of Concord Make haste to meet again, and thronging cry, Let us condemn him, tread him down in water, While he doth lie upon the bank; away! While some more tardy, cry unto their bearers, He will be censured ere we come; run, knaves, And use that furious diligence, for fear Their bondmen should inform against their slackness, And bring their quaking flesh unto the hook: The rout they follow with confused voice, Crying, they’re glad, say, they could ne’er abide him, Enquire what man he was, what kind of face, What beard he had, what nose, what lips? Protest They ever did presage he’d come to this; They never thought him wise, nor valiant; ask After his garments, when he dies, what death; And not a beast of all the herd demands, What was his crime, or who were his accusers, Under what proof or testimony he fell? There came, says one, a huge long-worded letter From Capreae against him. Did there so? O, they are satisfied; no more. LEPIDUS. Alas! They follow Fortune, and hate men condemn’d, Guilty or not.