2 Rom.  But did he winne them all with singing?

3 Rom.  Faith, all with singing and with stage-playing.

1 Rom.  So many Crowns got with a song!

4 Rom.  But did you marke the Greek Musitians
Behind his Chariot, hanging downe their heads,
Sham’d and overcome in their professions? 
O Rome was never honour’d so before.

3 Rom.  But what was he that rode ith’ Chariot with him?

4 Rom.  That was Diodorus the Mynstrill that he favours.

3 Rom.  Was there ever such a Prince!

2 Rom.  O Nero Augustus, the true Augustus!

3 Rom.  Nay, had you seen him as he rode along
With an Olimpicke Crowne upon his head
And with a Pythian on his arme, you would have thought,
Looking on one, he had Apollo seem’d,
On th’other, Hercules.

2 Rom.  I have heard my father oft repeat the Triumphs
Which in Augustus Caesars tymes were showne
Upon his Victorie ore the Illirians;
But it seemes it was not like to this.

3 & 4 Rom.  Push,[6] it could not be like this.

2, 3 & 4 Rom.  O Nero, Appollo, Nero, Hercules!

[Exeunt 2, 3 & 4 Rom.

Manet Primus_.

1 Rom.  Whether Augustus Triumph greater was
I cannot tell; his Triumphs cause, I know,
Was greater farre and farre more Honourable. 
What are wee People, or our flattering voyces
That always shame and foolish things applaud,
Having no sparke of Soule?  All eares and eyes,
Pleased with vaine showes, deluded by our sences,
Still enemies to wisedome and to goodnesse.
          
                             [Exit.

(SCENE 3.)

Enter Nero, Poppea, Nimphidius, Epaphroditus,
Neophilus and others.

Nero.  Now, fayre Poppea, see thy Nero shine
In bright Achaias spoyles and Rome in him. 
The Capitall hath other Trophies seene
Then it was wont; not spoyles with blood bedew’d
Or the unhappy obsequies of Death,
But such as Caesars cunning, not his force,
Hath wrung from Greece too bragging of her art.

Tigell.  And in this strife the glories all your owne,
Your tribunes cannot share this prayse with you;
Here your Centurions hath no part at all,
Bootless your Armies and your Eagles were;
No Navies helpt to bring away this conquest.

Nimph.  Even Fortunes selfe, Fortune the Queene of Kingdomes, That Warrs grim valour graceth with her deeds, Will claime no portion in this Victorie.

Nero.  Not Bacchus[7] drawn from Nisa downe with Tigers,
Curbing with viny rains their wilful heads
Whilst some doe gape upon his Ivy Thirse,
Some on the dangling grapes that crowne his head,
All praise his beautie and continuing youth;
So strooke amased India with wonder
As Neroes glories did the Greekish townes,
Elis and Pisa and the rich Micenae,
Junonian Argos and yet Corinth proud
Of her two Seas; all which ore-come did yeeld
To me their praise and prises of their games.