The whil'st the people, running by his side,
'_Hayle thou Olimpick Conqueror_' did cry,
'_O haile thou Pithian_!' and did fill the sky
With shame and voices Heaven would not have heard.

_Seneca_. I saw't, but turn'd away my eyes and eares,
Angry they should be privie to such sights.
Why do I stand relating of the storie
Which in the doing had enough to grieve me?
Tell on and end the tale, you whom it pleaseth;
Mee mine own sorrow stops from further speaking.
_Nero_, my love doth make thy fault and my griefe greater.
[_Ex. Sen_.

_Scevin_. I doe commend in Seneca this passion;
And yet me thinkes our Countries miserie
Doth at our hands crave somewhat more then teares.

_Lucan_. Pittie, though't doth a kind affection show,
If it end there, our weaknesse makes us know.

_Flav_. Let children weepe and men seeke remedie.

_Scevin_. Stoutly, and like a soldier, _Flavius_;
Yet to seeke remedie to a Princes ill
Seldome but it doth the Phisitian kill.

_Flav_. And if it doe, _Scevinus_, it shall take
But a devoted soule from _Flavius_,
Which to my Countrey and the Gods of Rome