Such fooles I love worse then they doe their lives.

_Nero_. But now, _Poppea_, having laid apart
Our boastfull spoyles and ornaments of Triumph,
Come we like _Jove_ from _Phlegra_--

_Poppea_. O Giantlike comparison!

_Nero_. When after all his Fiers and wandering darts
He comes to bath himselfe in _Juno's_ eyes.
But thou, then wrangling _Juno_ farre more fayre,
Stayning the evening beautie of the Skie
Or the dayes brightnesse, shall make glad thy _Caesar_,
Shalt make him proud such beauties to Inioy.
[_Exeunt_.

_Manet Nimphidius solus_.

_Nimph_. Such beauties to inioy were happinesse
And a reward sufficient in itselfe,
Although no other end or hopes were aim'd at;
But I have other: tis not _Poppeas_ armes
Nor the short pleasures of a wanton bed
That can extinguish mine aspiring thirst
To _Neroes_ Crowne. By her love I must climbe,
Her bed is but a step unto his Throne.
Already wise men laugh at him and hate him;
The people, though his Mynstrelsie doth please them,
They feare his cruelty, hate his exactions,
Which his need still must force him to encrease;