His greatest actions; give audacious check
   To his commands; and work to put him out
   In open act of treason.  All which snares
   When his wise cares prevented, a fine poison
   Was thought on, to mature their practices.

               Enter Sejanus talking to Terentius,
               followed by SATRlUS, Natta, etc.

Cor.  Here comes Sejanus.

Sil. 
   Now observe the stoops,
   The bendings, and the falls.

Arr.  Most creeping base!

Sej. [to Natta.] I note them well:  no more.  Say you?

Sat. 
   My lord,
   There is a gentleman of Rome would buy-

Sej.  How call you him you talk’d with?

Sat. 
   Please your lordship,
   It is Eudemus, the physician
   to Livia, Drusus’ wife.

Sej.  On with your suit.  Would buy, you said-

Sat.  A tribune’s place, my lord.

Sej.  What will he give?

Sat.  Fifty sestertia.

Sej.  Livia’s physician, say you, is that fellow?

Sat.  It is, my lord:  Your lordship’s answer.

Sej. 
   To what?

Sat. 
   The place, my lord.  ’Tis for a gentleman
   Your lordship will well like of, when you see him;
   And one, that you may make yours, by the grant.

Sej. 
   Well, let him bring his money, and his name.

Sat. 
   ’Thank your lordship.  He shall, my lord.

Sej. 
   Come hither. 
   Know you this same Eudemus? is he learn’d?

Sat. 
   Reputed so, my lord, and of deep practice.

Sej. 
   Bring him in, to me, in the gallery;
   And take you cause to leave us there together: 
   I would confer with him, about a grief—–­
   On. [Exeunt Sejanus, Satrius, Terentius, etc.

Arr. 
   So! yet another? yet?  O desperate state
   Of grovelling honour! seest thou this, O sun,
   And do we see thee after?  Methinks, day
   Should lose his light, when men do lose their shames,
   And for the empty circumstance of life,
   Betray their cause of living.

Sil. 
   Nothing so. 
   Sejanus can repair, if Jove should ruin. 
   He is now the court god; and well applied
   With sacrifice of knees, of crooks, and cringes;
   He will do more than all the house of heaven
   Can, for a thousand hecatombs.  ’Tis he
   Makes us our day, or night; hell, and elysium
   Are in his look:  we talk of Rhadamanth,
   Furies, and firebrands; but it is his frown
   That is all these; where, on the adverse part,
   His smile is more, than e’er yet poets feign’d
   Of bliss, and shades, nectar—–­

Arr. 
   A serving boy! 
   I knew him, at Caius’ trencher, when for hire
   He prostituted his abused body
   To that great gormond, fat Apicius;
   And was the noted pathic of the time.