(SCENE 5.)


_Enter Nimphidius solus_.

See how Fate workes unto their purpos'd end
And without all selfe-Industry will raise
Whom they determine to make great and happy.
_Nero_ throwes down himselfe, I stirre him not;
He runnes unto destruction, studies wayes
To compasse danger and attaine the hate
Of all. Bee his owne wishis on his head,
Nor _Rome_ with fire more then revenges burne.
Let me stand still or lye or sleepe, I rise.
_Poppea_ some new favour will seeke out
My wakings to salute; I cannot stirre
But messages of new preferment meet me.
Now she hath made me Captaine of the Guard
So well I beare me in these night Alarmes
That she imagin'd I was made for Armes.
I now command the Souldier,[58] he the Citie:
If any chance doe turne the Prince aside
(As many hatreds, mischiefes threaten him)
Ours is his wife; his seat and throwne is ours:
He's next in right that hath the strongest powers.
[_Exit_.