_Thr._ And well: thou’rt worthy of her; in saying which I mean thy praise, for she is worthy of thée. Nay, while she lives I go not from the world; Death sucks me not, though on his iron ladder My years descend: she will be Thrasea still, 25 Without his struggles. Let me acquaint thee, son, With one condition which I have thought to make, Ere I commit her to thy trust.
_Pr._ Good Thrasea, I know not how to thank thee; but, forgive me, My secret was not this.
_Pr._ Nay, sir. Of late I have passed my life half in a dungeon, Half in the garden, where thou bidst me forth To bask in my love’s joy: which in my duty I had spoken of to thee openly, but all Hath come so quickly: now, a happier way, I meet thy favour unsolicited. Let nothing vex this hour; I long to hear Thy one requirement, which my full consent Leaps to embrace unheard, that thou mayst join Fannia and me.
_Thr._ ’Tis but a form. I ask A promise of thee, Priscus, that thou wílt not For ten years join any conspiracy Against the Emperor.
_Thr._ For Fannia’s sake, Lest Nero kill thee: and for thy sake too.
_Thr._ Ten years is a fair term. Thou wilt be old in prudence then.
_Pr._ Such prudence Let me die ere I learn. How would’st thou, sir, For ten years bind me down in slavery To flatter a tyrant?
_Thr._ Who said flatter? Stay: Impatience cannot help. The case is thus. 50 Since Burrus died, Nero hath broken loose:— Seneca’s leading-string hath snapped in the midst Without a strain:—in greed of absolute power His will cast off restraint; in the possession His tottering reason doth the like. His lust, His cruelty, his effeminate, blundering passion For art and brutal vice are but the brag Of a hideous nature, which will force the bounds Of human action, till the shames of Rome Shame shameless Rome to wipe away her shame. That is a balance which I cannot poise, How much shame Rome will bear; but when I hear The whispers of revolt, and now one name And now another cast out like a fly To fish opinion, I give little heed, For these two reasons; first, there’s not a man Among the chiefs of faction of such mark As to make change secure: the second, this, That lacking such a leader there’s no party That can command opinion. Nero’s fall, When he shall fall, will be in a flooding wave Of common judgment. What the extravagance Of crime is weak to move, some unforeseen And trifling circumstance may on a sudden 75 Deliver; and the force that none can raise None shall control. Await the rising tide, It will not need us.