_Nero_. _Vespasian_[41] too asleepe? was he so drowsie?
Well, he shall sleepe the Iron sleepe of death.
And did _Thrasea_ looke so sourely on us?

_Tigell_. He never smilde, my Lord, nor would vouchsafe
With one applause to grace your action.

_Nero_. Our action needed not be grac'd by him:
Hee's our old enemie and still maligns us.
'Twill have an end, nay it shall have an end.
Why, I have bin too pittifull, too remisse;
My easinesse is laught at and contemn'd.
But I will change it; not as heretofore
By singling out them one by one to death:
Each common man can such revenges have;
A Princes anger must lay desolate
Citties, Kingdomes consume, Roote up mankind.
O could I live to see the generall end,
Behold the world enwrapt in funerall flame,
When as the _Sunne_ shall lend his beames to burne
What he before brought forth, and water serve
Not to extinguish but to nurse the fire;
Then, like the _Salamander_, bathing me
In the last Ashes of all mortall things
Let me give up this breath. _Priam_ was happie,
Happie indeed; he saw his _Troy_ burnt
And _Illion_ lye on heapes, whilst thy pure streames
(Divine _Scamander_) did run _Phrygian_ blood,
And heard the pleasant cries of _Troian_ mothers.