Sejanus
His Fall

The greatest English playwright aside from Shakespeare, the first literary authority and poet-laureate, a writer of poetry, prose, satire, and criticism who most significantly influenced the later development of English literature: that was Ben Jonson, and because of this, his strong personality holds a unique interest for us, especially in his time.

Ben Jonson came from a lineage that would centuries later produce Thomas Carlyle; his grandfather was from Annandale across the Solway and moved to England. Jonson's father lost his estate under Queen Mary after being imprisoned and forfeiting his property. He became a clergyman but died a month before his renowned son was born, leaving his widow and child in poverty. Jonson was born in Westminster in early 1573, making him nearly ten years younger than Shakespeare, and while he was somewhat better born, he was not as well off. However, Jonson did not benefit even from this slight advantage. His mother remarried below her status, to a carpenter or bricklayer, and Jonson was briefly apprenticed to the trade. As a young man, he caught the attention of the famous antiquarian William Camden, who was then an assistant at Westminster School, where the poet built the solid foundations of his classical education. Jonson always held Camden in high regard, recognizing that he owed him,

“All that I am in the arts, everything I know:”

and dedicating his first dramatic success, “Every Man in His Humour,” to him. It’s unclear if Jonson ever attended either university, although Fuller mentions that he was “statutably admitted into St. John’s College, Cambridge.” He notes that he didn’t earn a degree but later became “Master of Arts in both the universities, by their favor, not his study.” When he was still a young man, Jonson signed up as a soldier, carrying his pike in Flanders during the long wars of William the Silent against the Spanish. Jonson was a tall and sturdy young man; he later claimed that he became quite heavy. In conversations with his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden, Jonson recounted how “during his service in the Low Countries he had, in front of both camps, killed an enemy and taken ‘opima spolia’ from him;” and how “after coming to England, when challenged in the fields, he had killed his opponent who had injured him in the arm and whose sword was ten inches longer than his.” Jonson’s reach might have compensated for his shorter sword; undoubtedly, his skill in battle gained nothing in the telling. Clearly, Jonson was brave, combative, and not shy about discussing himself and his achievements.

In 1592, Jonson came back from abroad broke. Not long after, he got married, almost as quickly and just as recklessly as Shakespeare. He bluntly told Drummond that “his wife was a shrew, yet honest”; for several years, he lived separately from her in Lord Albany’s household. However, two touching epitaphs in Jonson’s ‘Epigrams’, “On my first daughter,” and “On my first son,” show the poet’s deep family feelings. The daughter died in infancy, and the son died of the plague; another son grew up to manhood with little to his father’s credit, outliving him. We don’t know anything else about Jonson’s family life.

How soon Jonson got involved in what we now grandly call “the theatrical profession” isn’t clear. In 1593, Marlowe tragically passed away, and Greene, Shakespeare’s other rival on the popular stage, had a similarly unfortunate death the year before. By this point, Shakespeare had the spotlight to himself. Jonson first worked for Philip Henslowe, who ran several acting troupes and was the father-in-law of the famous actor, Edward Alleyn. From entries in ‘Henslowe’s Diary’, a sort of theatrical ledger that still exists, we know that Jonson was associated with the Admiral’s men; he borrowed £4 from Henslowe on July 28, 1597, paying back 3s. 9d. on the same day for his “share” (though it’s unclear what that was for); later, on December 3 of that same year, Henslowe lent him 20s. “upon a book which he showed the plot to the company which he promised to deliver to the company at Christmas.” The following August, Jonson collaborated with Chettle and Porter on a play called “Hot Anger Soon Cold.” All of this suggests a longer relationship with Henslowe, as no inexperienced newcomer would be paid in advance based on mere promises. References in Dekker’s play, “Satiromastix,” indicate that Jonson, like Shakespeare, started out as an actor and that he “ambled in a leather pitch by a play-wagon,” once playing the part of Hieronimo in Kyd’s famous play, “The Spanish Tragedy.” By early 1598, Jonson, despite still struggling financially, was starting to gain recognition. Francis Meres—known for his “Comparative Discourse of our English Poets with the Greek, Latin, and Italian Poets,” published in 1598, which mentions a dozen of Shakespeare's plays by title—recognized Ben Jonson as one of “our best in tragedy,” which is somewhat surprising since no known tragedy by Jonson from that early period has survived. However, the entries in Henslowe confirm that Jonson was working on tragedy, with records of at least three tragedies, now lost, in which he played a part. These include “Page of Plymouth,” “King Robert II. of Scotland,” and “Richard Crookback.” But all of these came later, during his return to Henslowe, spanning from August 1599 to June 1602.

Returning to the autumn of 1598, an event occurred that temporarily ended Jonson’s relationship with Henslowe. In a letter to Alleyn, dated September 26 of that year, Henslowe writes: “I have lost one of my company, which hurts me greatly; that is Gabriel [Spencer], for he was killed in Hogsden fields by Benjamin Jonson, bricklayer.” The last word might be Henslowe’s jab at Jonson in his anger rather than a description of Jonson’s ongoing work at that time. However, it’s fair to mention that Jonson’s opponent was known to be a notorious fire-eater who had recently killed someone named Feeke in a similar fight. Duels were common among gentlemen and the nobility at the time; it was a reckless breach of peace for an actor. This duel is the one Jonson talked about years later with Drummond, and for it, Jonson was officially charged at Old Bailey, tried, and convicted. He was sent to prison, and all his belongings “were forfeited.” It’s sobering to think that if it weren’t for the old law allowing convicted felons to claim the benefit of clergy, Jonson might have been hanged for this act. The fact that the poet could read and write saved him; he received only a mark of the letter “T,” for Tyburn, on his left thumb. While in jail, Jonson became a Roman Catholic, but he returned to the Church of England’s faith a dozen years later.

On his release, disgraced with Henslowe and his former associates, Jonson offered his services as a playwright to Henslowe’s competitors, the Lord Chamberlain’s company, where Shakespeare was a key shareholder. A long-standing tradition, though not something that can be proven in a court of law, says that Jonson submitted the manuscript of “Every Man in His Humour” to the Chamberlain’s men and was rejected by the company; then Shakespeare called him back, read the play himself, and immediately accepted it. Whether this story is true or not, it’s certain that “Every Man in His Humour” was accepted by Shakespeare’s company and was performed for the first time in 1598, with Shakespeare playing a role. Evidence of this can be found in the list of actors at the beginning of the comedy in the 1616 folio of Jonson’s works. However, it's a mistake to assume that because Shakespeare’s name is listed first among the actors and the elder Kno’well is first in the ‘dramatis personae’, it means Shakespeare played that specific part. The order of a list of Elizabethan players was typically based on their significance or status as shareholders in the company and rarely matched the list of characters.

“Every Man in His Humour” was an instant hit, and with it, Jonson established his reputation as one of the top playwrights of his time once and for all. This was by no means Jonson’s first comedy, and we've just learned that he was already known as one of “our best in tragedy.” In fact, one of Jonson’s surviving comedies, “The Case is Altered,” which he never claimed or published as his own, must have definitely come before “Every Man in His Humour” on stage. This earlier play can be described as a comedy modeled after the Latin works of Plautus. (It actually combines situations taken from the “Captivi” and the “Aulularia” of that playwright). However, the charming story of the beggar girl, Rachel, and her suitors, Jonson found not in the classics, but in the ideals of romantic love that Shakespeare had already made popular on stage. Jonson never created another fresh and lovable female character like Rachel, although “The Case is Altered” is not particularly remarkable in other ways, and apart from mocking Antony Munday through the character Antonio Balladino and Gabriel Harvey as well, it is perhaps the least characteristic of Jonson's comedies.

“Every Man in His Humour,” likely first performed in late summer 1598 at the Curtain, is often seen as a groundbreaking play, and this perspective is valid. In terms of plot, it offers little more than how an intercepted letter allowed a father to follow his apparently studious son to London, where he observes his life among the fashionable crowd of the time. The true strength of this comedy lies in its characters and the ideas behind their creation. Ben Jonson had theories about poetry and drama, and he was eager to discuss them and experiment with them in his plays. This makes Jonson, like Dryden in his era and Wordsworth much later, an important author to consider, especially when we recall that many of Jonson’s ideas eventually became prominent and influenced the overall direction of English poetry. First and foremost, Jonson was a classicist; he believed in restraint and adherence to established examples in art, in contrast to the impulsive and reckless spirit of the Renaissance. Jonson thought there was a professional way to approach art that could be learned by studying the best examples, which he mostly found among the ancients. Focusing on drama, Jonson criticized the amateurish and random nature of many contemporary plays and aimed to create something different; the first and most significant innovation he developed was his idea and practice of the comedy of humours.

As Jonson has been misrepresented a lot in this regard, let's use his own words about “humour.” A humour, according to Jonson, was a tendency in character, a sort of distortion in personality by which

“There's one unique quality
That takes hold of a man, drawing
All his emotions, his energy, and his abilities,
In their coming together, to flow in one direction.”

But continuing, Jonson is careful to add:

“But that a rook by wearing a multicolored feather,
The fancy hatband, or the three-layered ruff,
A yard of shoelace, or the Swiss knot
On his French garters, should show off a style!
Oh, it's more than just ridiculous.”

Jonson’s comedy of humours, in short, created stage characters based on a dominant trait or passion (this is a significant simplification of real life, just to note); and by placing these typical traits in opposition and conflict, he sparked comedy. Downright, as his name suggests, is “a plain squire”; Bobadill’s trait is that of the braggart who is, amusingly, also a coward; Brainworm’s trait is figuring out ways to trick everyone: naturally, he ends up getting fooled himself. However, it wasn’t just Jonson’s ideas that made “Every Man in His Humour” successful. The play is expertly written, and each character is vividly developed, with a strong touch grounded in the observation of the men of London at the time. Jonson was neither in this, his first great comedy (nor in any other play he wrote), a passive classicist pushing for English drama to strictly follow classical rules. He states about the laws of the old comedy (by “laws,” he means things like the unities of time and place and the use of chorus): “I see no reason why we shouldn’t have the same license or freedom to enhance and illustrate our ideas as they [the ancients] did; and not be confined to those rigid and formal structures which a few picky people, who are only about form, want to impose on us.” “Every Man in His Humour” is written in prose, a new approach that Jonson picked up from his comedic predecessor, John Lyly. Even the term “humour” seems to have been used in Jonsonian context by Chapman before Jonson used it. In fact, the comedy of humours itself is just a more intense version of the comedy of manners, which reflects life from a satirical perspective, and it is the oldest and most enduring type of comedy in the language. Nevertheless, Jonson’s comedy deserved its immediate success and established a clear direction in which comedy continued to develop for a long time. Notably, Shakespeare’s Falstaff and his crew, Bardolph, Pistol, Dame Quickly, and the rest, whether in “Henry IV.” or in “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” are all conceived in the spirit of humours. So are the captains, Welsh, Scotch, and Irish in “Henry V.,” and particularly Malvolio later; although Shakespeare never used the method of humours for a major character. It wasn’t Jonson’s fault that many of his successors ended up doing exactly what he criticized, which was to reduce “the humour” to a quirk in speech, an eccentricity in manner, style, or beard. There was an anonymous play called “Every Woman in Her Humour.” Chapman wrote “A Humourous Day’s Mirth,” Day wrote “Humour Out of Breath,” Fletcher later wrote “The Humourous Lieutenant,” and Jonson, besides “Every Man Out of His Humour,” revisited the title when he closed the cycle of his comedies with “The Magnetic Lady or Humours Reconciled.”

With the performance of “Every Man Out of His Humour” in 1599, by Shakespeare’s company once again at the Globe, we open a new chapter in Jonson’s career. Despite his many real strengths, if there’s one thing that sets Jonson apart, it’s his arrogance; to this, we can add his self-righteousness, especially when faced with criticism or satire. “Every Man Out of His Humour” is the first of three “comical satires” that Jonson contributed to what Dekker called the ‘poetomachia’ or war of the theatres, as recent critics have labeled it. This play is fairly light on plot, but as a satirical depiction of the social behaviors of the time, conveyed through vivid caricature, clever and brilliant dialogue, and fueled by that righteous indignation which should underpin all genuine satire—as a realization, basically, of the classical ideal of comedy—there had been nothing quite like Jonson’s comedy since the days of Aristophanes. “Every Man in His Humour,” like the two plays that follow it, features two types of critique: the general satirical attack on abstract abuses and corruptions, and the personal attack, where specific individuals, including poets and other peers of Jonson, are lampooned. The method of personal attack through actual caricature on stage is nearly as old as drama itself. Aristophanes lampooned Euripides in “The Acharnians” and Socrates in “The Clouds,” to mention just a couple of instances; in English drama, this type of approach is referenced repeatedly. What Jonson really did was elevate the dramatic lampoon to an art form, transforming a casual mockery and bit of mimicry into a dramatic satire with literary aspirations and permanence. Given his arrogant approach and his remarkable skill in scorn, abuse, and invective, it’s no surprise that Jonson quickly found himself embroiled in literary and even personal disputes with his fellow writers. The details surrounding the origins of this ‘poetomachia’ are pretty unclear, and those who have explored the subject, aside from recent writers, haven’t done much to clarify it. The start of the “war” has been linked to satirical references, apparently directed at Jonson, found in “The Scourge of Villainy,” a satire formally structured in the style of the ancients by John Marston, a fellow playwright who would later become a friend and collaborator of Jonson’s. Conversely, some of Jonson’s epigrams (49, 68, and 100) have been discovered, variously accusing “playwright” (likely pointing to Marston) of vulgarity, cowardice, and plagiarism; however, the precise dates of these epigrams are uncertain. Jonson himself stated to Drummond: “He had many quarrels with Marston, beat him, and took his pistol from him, and wrote his ‘Poetaster’ about him; the beginnings of their disputes were that Marston portrayed him on stage.”^[1]

[1] The most comprehensive account of this topic can be found in the upcoming edition of ‘Poetaster’ and ‘Satiromastrix’ by J. H. Penniman in the ‘Belles Lettres Series’. Also check out his earlier work, ‘The War of the Theatres’, from 1892, and the great contributions to the subject by H. C. Hart in ‘Notes and Queries’, as well as in his 1906 edition of Jonson.

Here at least we're on solid ground, and the main issues of the dispute are clear. “Histriomastix,” a play revised by Marston in 1598, is considered the one in which Jonson was depicted on stage; however, the character in question, Chrisogonus, a poet, satirist, and translator, who is poor but proud and looks down on the common people, seems more like a flattering portrayal of Jonson than a mockery. As for the characters actually mocked in “Every Man Out of His Humour,” Carlo Buffone was once believed to be Marston, as he was described as “a public scurrilous, and profane jester,” and elsewhere as the great scourge or second satirist of the time (with Joseph Hall boasting of being the first, and Marston’s work titled “The Scourge of Villainy”). We apparently now prefer to think that Carlo refers to a notorious figure named Charles Chester, of whom the gossip-prone and unreliable Aubrey says he was “a bold impertinent fellow...a non-stop talker and made noise like a drum in a room. One time at a tavern, Sir Walter Raleigh beat him and sealed his mouth (that is, his upper and lower beard) with hard wax. From him, Ben Jonson took his Carlo Buffone [i.e., jester] in ‘Every Man in His Humour’ [sic].” Is it possible that Jonson was actually mocking Marston, and that the point of the satire was to deliberately confuse “the great scourge or second satirist” with “the scurrilous and profane” Chester?

We’ve gone into detail in this case to highlight the challenges of criticism when trying to identify the references in these forgotten disputes. We have a more solid basis in discussing other instances of Jonson’s hostility. In “The Case is Altered,” there’s a clear mockery in the character Antonio Balladino, who represents Anthony Munday, the city’s pageant-poet, translator of romances, and playwright. In “Every Man in His Humour,” there’s definitely a caricature of Samuel Daniel, the recognized court poet, sonnet writer, and associate of fashionable men. These individuals held prestigious roles that Jonson believed he deserved more than they did; thus, they became his natural adversaries. It seems almost certain that he targeted both through the characters in his satire in “Every Man Out of His Humour” and “Cynthia’s Revels,” depicting Daniel through Fastidious Brisk and Hedon, and Munday as Puntarvolo and Amorphus; however, with these last examples, we tread on uncertain ground again. Jonson’s literary rivalry with Daniel can be traced repeatedly in the celebrations that greeted King James on his way to London, in the court masques, and in pastoral drama. Regarding Jonson’s personal ambitions in relation to these two men, it’s worth noting that he became not a pageant-poet, but the chronologer of the City of London; and when the new king came to the throne, he soon triumphed over Daniel as the recognized entertainer of royalty.

“Cynthia’s Revels,” the second “comical satire,” was performed in 1600 and, as a play, is even longer, more complex, and more outlandish than “Every Man Out of His Humour.” Here, personal satire seems to dominate everything, and while much of the caricature is impressive, especially the sharp and witty satirical dialogue, the main idea of a fountain of self-love isn't very well executed. The characters sometimes drift into abstractions, and the action turns into allegory. It’s remarkable that this challenging drama was performed by the Children of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel, including Nathaniel Field, with whom Jonson studied Horace and Martial, and whom he later taught how to write plays. Another one of these talented young actors was Salathiel Pavy, who passed away before turning thirteen, already known for playing older characters. Jonson immortalized him in one of his most touching epitaphs. This sheds light on the character of this formidable and rough satirist, showing how he befriended and fondly remembered these young theatrical talents, some of whom (as we know) had been literally kidnapped to serve in the theater and whipped to learn their difficult roles. The caricatures of Daniel and Munday in “Cynthia’s Revels” include Anaides (impudence), surely representing Marston, and Asotus (the prodigal), possibly standing for Lodge or, more dangerously, Raleigh. Crites, like Asper-Macilente in “Every Man Out of His Humour,” is Jonson’s self-satisfied portrayal of himself—the just, fully admirable, and discerning scholar—holding his head high above the pack of yapping dogs of envy and criticism, but indifferent to their petty attacks on his qualities while somewhat dismissive of them.

The third and final one of the “comical satires” is “Poetaster,” performed again by the Children of the Chapel in 1601, and it’s Jonson’s only openly admitted contribution to the battle. According to the author, this play was written in fifteen weeks after he heard that his enemies had given Dekker the task of preparing “Satiromastix, the Untrussing of the Humorous Poet,” a dramatic attack against him. In his effort to get ahead of his enemies, Jonson succeeded, and “Poetaster” was an immediate and well-deserved hit. While it’s not much more tightly structured than its earlier companions, “Poetaster” is designed to build up to the ridiculous final scene where, after a device taken from Lucian’s “Lexiphanes,” the offending poetaster, Marston-Crispinus, is made to regurgitate the complex words that he had stuffed into his stomach as well as overcomplicated his vocabulary. In the end, Crispinus, along with his buddy Dekker-Demetrius, is required to keep the peace and must never again “malign, traduce, or detract from the person or writings of Quintus Horatius Flaccus [Jonson] or any other distinguished person who is more worthy than you.” One of the most entertaining characters in Jonson’s comedy is Captain Tucca. “His peculiarity” has been accurately described by Ward as “a buoyant blackguardism that instantly rebounds from the most complete exposure, and a vivid way of speaking like that of a walking slang dictionary.”

It was this character, Captain Tucca, that Dekker came up with in his response, “Satiromastix,” and he expanded on him, flipping Jonson’s insults back at him and adding “an immodesty to his dialogue that wasn’t part of Jonson’s vision.” It’s been reasonably argued that when Dekker was basically hired to craft a dramatic response to Jonson, he was also working on a sort of historical account about Walter Terill during the reign of William Rufus. He quickly modified this to include the satirical characters inspired by “Poetaster” and shaped it to deliver the satire in his reply. The ridiculousness of putting Horace in the court of a Norman king is the outcome. However, Dekker’s play isn’t without its clear jabs at Jonson-Horace’s arrogance, literary pride, and self-righteousness, whose “ningle” or buddy, the absurd Asinius Bubo, has recently been shown to likely represent Jonson’s friend, the poet Drayton. Although “Satiromastix” is slight and quickly adapted, especially compared to the more finely crafted and significant satire of “Poetaster,” the town chose Dekker over Jonson; and as a result, Jonson stopped writing “comical satire.” Even though Jonson was summoned to appear before the Lord Chief Justice to respond to certain accusations that he had attacked lawyers and soldiers in “Poetaster,” nothing came of this complaint. It’s possible that much of the heated bickering was just for show. The town was buzzing with the conflict, and according to no less an authority than Shakespeare (“Hamlet,” ii. 2), we learn that the children’s company (performing Jonson’s plays) “so berattle the common stages...that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills, and dare hardly come there.”

Several other plays are believed to have played a bigger or smaller role in the theater wars. The most notable among them is a college play titled “The Return from Parnassus,” written around 1601-02. In it, a famous line has Burbage, as a character, say: “Look, our buddy Shakespeare outshines them all; even Ben Jonson, too. Oh, that Ben Jonson is such a troublesome guy; he brought up Horace, giving the poets a hard time, but our buddy Shakespeare has given him a dose that made him reveal his weaknesses.” Was Shakespeare involved in this stage rivalry? And what could this “dose” have been? Among various theories, some believe “Troilus and Cressida” is the play in which Shakespeare supposedly “put down” his friend, Jonson. A more insightful interpretation finds the “dose” in “Satiromastix,” which, although not written by Shakespeare, was performed by his company, thus with his approval and under his guidance as one of the leaders of that troupe.

The final years of Elizabeth's reign saw Jonson recognized as a playwright second only to Shakespeare, and not even second to him as a satirical dramatist. However, Jonson began exploring new areas. Plays based on classical stories and myths had dominated the theater since the drama's beginnings, so Shakespeare was not breaking new ground when he wrote "Julius Caesar" around 1600. So when Jonson produced "Sejanus" three years later, again with Shakespeare’s company, he was simply following the path of the earlier dramatist. But Jonson’s approach to classical history was very different from Shakespeare’s and other popular dramatists. A few years earlier, Heywood had staged five scattered plays in quick succession, all based on stories from Ovid and done with little taste or refinement. Shakespeare had a better sense of form, but he too relied on North’s translation of Plutarch for his ancient history and dramatized his subjects without much deeper research. Jonson was a scholar and a classical expert. He criticized this careless amateurishness and wrote "Sejanus" like a true scholar, reading Tacitus, Suetonius, and other sources to ensure accuracy in his facts, setting, and atmosphere, and somewhat pedantically noting his sources in the margins when he printed. "Sejanus" is a tragedy with genuine dramatic power that tastefully tells the story of Tiberius's proud favorite and his tragic downfall. Our drama offers no more accurate or careful portrayal of ancient Roman life than Jonson’s "Sejanus" and "Catiline his Conspiracy," which followed in 1611. A note in the preface of the former play mentions a collaboration in an earlier version, leading to speculation that Shakespeare might have been that “worthier pen.” There is no evidence to clarify the matter.

In 1605, Jonson was actively working with Chapman and Marston on the impressive comedy of London life called “Eastward Hoe.” The year before, Marston had dedicated his “Malcontent” to Jonson with great admiration, suggesting that the conflicts from the war of the theatres had long been resolved. Jonson and Chapman shared similar scholarly ideals and remained friends for life. “Eastward Hoe” became hugely popular, with three editions released in one year. However, this wasn’t solely because of the play’s qualities. In its initial version, a passage that an annoyed courtier believed insulted his nation, the Scots, landed both Chapman and Jonson in jail; however, that issue was quickly resolved since Jonson had gained influence at court by then.

With King James's rise to power, Jonson started his long and successful career as a writer of masques. He wrote more masques than all his competitors combined, and they showcase an extraordinary variety and poetic quality. Jonson didn't create the masque; such planned performances to frame a court ball had existed in different forms long before his time. However, Jonson added dramatic value to the masque, particularly through his creation of the antimasque, a comedic or farcical element that involved professional performers or dancers. He also enhanced the beauty and dignity of those parts of the masque in which noble lords and ladies participated, creating a lavish display with their stunning costumes and artistic choreography. On the technical and visual side, Jonson had a creative and inventive collaborator in Inigo Jones, the royal architect, who significantly elevated the standards of stage representation in England during his time. Jonson remained active in serving the court by writing masques and other entertainments well into King Charles's reign; however, towards the end, a feud with Jones soured his life, and the two irritable old men seemed to have become not only a constant nuisance to each other but also unbearable to the court. In “Hymenaei,” “The Masque of Queens,” “Love Freed from Ignorance,” “Lovers made Men,” “Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue,” and many others, you can find Jonson’s skill, taste, poetry, and creativity in these secondary forms of drama; while in “The Masque of Christmas” and “The Gipsies Metamorphosed,” especially, you can see that broad comedic talent which contributed to Jonson’s popularity both at court and in the city.

But Jonson definitely hadn't given up the popular stage when he began entertaining King James. In 1605, "Volpone" was produced, followed by "The Silent Woman" in 1609 and "The Alchemist" the next year. These comedies, along with "Bartholomew Fair" in 1614, showcase Jonson at his peak. For their clever construction, strong character portrayal done in a caricature style, and sharp, brilliant dialogue, they stand out in English drama. "Volpone, or the Fox" acts as a transition from the dramatic satires of the theatre wars to the cleaner comedy found in the aforementioned plays. The story revolves around a battle of wits involving deceit; among its characters—from the scheming Fox himself, his shady servant Mosca, Voltore (the vulture), Corbaccio, and Corvino (the big and little raven), to Sir Politic Would-be and others—there's hardly a virtuous character in sight. Some have questioned whether such a grim story can really be called a comedy, as even though the plot ends with the downfall and imprisonment of the most wicked, there’s no moral catastrophe involved. However, Jonson was on solid historical ground, since "Volpone" is much more logically conceived according to the ancient theory of comedy than the romantic dramas of Shakespeare, no matter how distasteful we may find a worldview that easily divides people into rogues and their victims, and mistakenly associates intelligence with cunning and innocence with foolishness, admiring the former while inconsistently punishing them.

“The Silent Woman” is a huge farce with brilliant construction. The entire comedy revolves around a massive joke played by a callous nephew on his misanthropic uncle, who is tricked into marrying a young, beautiful woman who is supposedly silent, but in the end, she turns out to be neither silent nor a woman at all. In “The Alchemist,” we again see incredible craftsmanship, with the whole story building climax upon climax, witty, clever, and so convincingly presented that we forget its departures from real life. In “The Alchemist,” Jonson vividly portrays certain con artists of the city, reveling in their cunning and trickery as well as the various stupidity and wickedness of their victims. We might object that the only character in the play with a shred of honesty is defeated, while the biggest scoundrel of all is celebrated and rewarded in the end. The comedy is so well-written and crafted, the characters are so distinct and lifelike in their various traits, and the whole piece is filled with such energy and creativity that “The Alchemist” feels like a new marvel each time it is read. Lastly, we have the powerful comedy “Bartholomew Fair,” which is less structured and not as clearly defined or praiseworthy in its construction as its three predecessors but is packed with sharp satire and creativity beyond any other English comedy except some of Jonson’s own works. In “Bartholomew Fair,” we encounter the unforgettable caricature of the Puritan, Zeal-in-the-Land Busy, and the Littlewits who surround him. This extraordinary comedy allows Jonson’s humor, always at risk of going too far, to unleash into a Rabelaisian style that so delighted King James in “The Gipsies Metamorphosed.” Another comedy of lesser quality is “The Devil is an Ass,” performed in 1616. It was the failure of this play that led Jonson to stop writing for the public stage for nearly ten years.

“Volpone” is set in Venice. Whether it was due to the success of “Eastward Hoe” or for other reasons, the other three comedies state in the prologue to “The Alchemist”:

“Our scene is London, because we want to show
No country’s joy is better than ours.”

Indeed, Jonson went even further when he revised his plays for the collected publication in his 1616 folio. He changed the setting of “Every Man in His Humour” from Florence to London, turning Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi into Old Kno’well, Prospero into Master Welborn, and Hesperida into Dame Kitely “living in the Old Jewry.”

In his comedies about life in London, Jonson, despite leaning towards caricature, has proven to be a true realist, drawing from the world around him with a depth of experience and insight that’s rare in any era. A great comparison has been made between Ben Jonson and Charles Dickens. Both were people’s men, born into humble beginnings. Each understood the London of his time like few others; and each depicted it closely and in rich detail. Both were essentially moralists, searching for truth through exaggerated humor and caricature; sometimes misguided, but with genuine pathos and a big heart, ultimately making the world a better place through their art.

In 1616, the year Shakespeare died, Jonson gathered his plays, poetry, and masques for a published collection. This was rare at the time and hadn’t been attempted by any playwright before Jonson. The published volume included a carefully revised version of all the plays mentioned so far, except for “The Case is Altered,” which Jonson did not acknowledge, “Bartholomew Fair,” and “The Devil is an Ass,” which was written too late. It also featured about one hundred thirty 'Epigrams,' a form of short and impactful writing where Jonson excelled; “The Forest,” a smaller collection of lyrical and occasional verse; and around ten 'Masques' and 'Entertainments.' That same year, Jonson was made poet laureate with a pension of one hundred marks a year. This, along with his fees and income from various noblemen, and the small earnings from his plays, likely made up the majority of his income. The poet seems to have done some literary work for others, such as parts of the Punic Wars that contributed to Raleigh’s ‘History of the World’. There's a story, not very flattering to either, that Jonson went abroad with Raleigh’s son as a tutor. In 1618, Jonson was granted the future position of Master of the Revels, a role he was particularly suited for; however, he didn’t live long enough to enjoy its benefits. Jonson received degrees from both universities, though the details of when and how are unknown. It has been said he narrowly avoided being knighted, an honor that King James was known to bestow somewhat indiscriminately. There were worse men made knights in his time than the worthy Ben Jonson.

From 1616 until the end of King James's reign, Jonson didn't produce anything for the stage. However, he diligently pursued what he referred to as “his usual studies,” which led him to become, as reported, one of the most knowledgeable individuals of his time. Jonson’s concept of authorship required a broad familiarity with books and “the ability,” as he put it, “to take the substance or wealth of another poet and use it for himself.” Thus, Jonson read not only the Greek and Latin classics but also studied the works of his learned contemporaries, including their prose and poetry, their historical writings, and various interesting lore, in addition to their more substantial knowledge. Despite being poor, Jonson was tireless in collecting books. He told Drummond that “the Earl of Pembroke sent him £20 every New Year's Day to buy new books.” Unfortunately, in 1623, his library was destroyed by fire, an incident humorously captured in his witty poem, “An Execration upon Vulcan.” Even now, a book occasionally appears with his name, Ben Jonson, inscribed in large Italian letters. About Jonson’s use of his material, Dryden famously remarked: “[He] was not only a professed imitator of Horace but a learned plagiarist of all the others; you can track him everywhere in their snow. ... But he has committed his thefts so openly that you can see he isn’t afraid of being criticized by any law. He invades authors like a ruler, and what would be considered theft in other poets is merely triumph for him.” Nevertheless, it’s only fair to say that Jonson took pride in his originality, and rightly so. In “Catiline,” he not only uses Sallust’s account of the conspiracy but also models some of Cicero’s speeches on the Roman orator's actual words. In “Poetaster,” he takes an entire satire from Horace and adapts it effectively for his needs. The situation of “The Silent Woman” is inspired by the sophist Libanius; a Latin comedy by Giordano Bruno, “Il Candelaio,” relates to the dynamics between the dupes and the tricksters in “The Alchemist,” while the admirable opening scene is derived from Plautus’s “Mostellaria.” However, Jonson often improved upon his sources, leaving his mark on everything he borrowed, making it forever recognized as his own.

The lyrics and occasional poetry of Jonson have a unique value. His approach emphasized structure and flawless literary execution. He was far from being a spontaneous poet or a casual singer of a lazy day; he believed that Apollo deserved to be honored in singing robes and with a laurel crown. Yet, many of Jonson’s lyrics will endure as long as the language does. Who doesn’t recognize “Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,” “Drink to me only with thine eyes,” or “Still to be neat, still to be dressed”? They are beautiful in form, skillful and elegant in expression, with not a single superfluous word or one that doesn’t contribute to the overall effect. However, there’s a certain stiffness and formality in Jonson’s lyrics, a sense that they weren't completely spontaneous but rather crafted with considerable effort by a powerful writer who often focused on greater themes. For these reasons, Jonson shines even more in epigrams and occasional verse, where rhetorical polish and sharp wit don’t clash with the spontaneity and emotion we typically associate with lyrical poetry. There are no epitaphs quite like Ben Jonson’s, as seen in the lovely tributes to his own children, to Salathiel Pavy, the child actor, and many others; this is despite the strict rule of ownership reinstating William Browne of Tavistock as the author of the famous lines starting with, “Underneath this sable hearse.” Jonson also excels in the challenging art of compliments, rarely slipping into overly flattering praise or excessive similes, yet consistently exhibiting a generous appreciation for the worth of others, displaying refined taste and sincere personal regard. No one of his standing in England was as well-known or universally loved as Ben Jonson. The list of his friends, those to whom he wrote verses, and those who wrote verses to him includes the names of every prominent figure in King James's England. The tone of many of these works reveals a warm familiarity that reflects the amiable nature and true character of the laureate. In 1619, feeling sluggish from inactivity, Jonson decided to take a journey on foot to Scotland. On his way there and back, he was warmly welcomed at the homes of many friends and by those recommended to him. Upon arriving in Edinburgh, the burgesses met to grant him the freedom of the city, and Drummond, the foremost Scottish poet, proudly hosted him as his guest at Hawthornden for weeks. Some of Jonson’s finest poems were inspired by friendship, such as the beautiful “Ode to the memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Moryson,” and that remarkable piece of critical insight and heartfelt affection, preface to the first folio of Shakespeare, “To the memory of my beloved master, William Shakespeare, and what he hath left us.” Not to mention the earlier “Epode,” which starts with “Not to know vice at all,” unmatched in dignified seriousness and profound wisdom for its time.

But even if Jonson had left the stage after the release of his folio and up to the end of King James's reign, he was far from inactive; year after year, his endless creativity continued to fuel the masques and entertainment at court. In “The Golden Age Restored,” Pallas moves away from the Iron Age with all its problems into statues that disappear from view; in “Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue,” Atlas is depicted as an old man with snow on his shoulders, and Comus, “the god of cheer or the belly,” makes an appearance, something that an imaginative ten-year-old named John Milton would not forget. “Pan’s Anniversary,” late in King James's reign, showed that Jonson still knew how to write beautiful lyrics, while “The Gipsies Metamorphosed” showcased his old humor and broad comedic style, still intact and unmatched. These, along with the early years of Charles, were the times of the Apollo Room at the Devil Tavern, where Jonson ruled as the absolute monarch of English literary Bohemia. We hear of a room decorated with Jonson’s own wise ‘Leges Convivales’ in letters of gold, filled with the finest minds of the time, devoted to their veteran leader and his stories, views, loves, and rivalries. We also hear about hearty drinking sessions; but as Herrick wrote to his master, Jonson, at the Devil Tavern, as well as at the Dog, the Triple Tun, and the Mermaid,

“We had such groups that made us nobly wild, not crazy, And yet each of your verses Surpassed the food, surpassed the lively wine.”

But the support of the court declined during King Charles' reign, although Jonson still received some royal favors. The old poet returned to the stage, creating, between 1625 and 1633, “The Staple of News,” “The New Inn,” “The Magnetic Lady,” and “The Tale of a Tub,” the last likely revised from a much earlier comedy. None of these plays achieved significant success, although Dryden's harsh comment calling them “Jonson’s dotages” is unfair to their real merits. The idea of an office for gathering, properly presenting, and sharing news (a wild idea for its time) was an excellent topic for satire on the absurdities among newsmongers; however, the same cannot be said for “The Magnetic Lady,” who, in her generosity, gathers characters with differing personalities to reconcile them in the end, as suggested by the alternative title, “Humours Reconciled.” These final plays of the old dramatist return to caricature and the rigid lines of allegory; the moralist is more present than ever, and the satire turns into personal mockery, particularly of his former friend, Inigo Jones, who seems to have improperly used his influence at court against the aging poet. Soon, illness took Jonson, and he was confined to bed for months. He succeeded Middleton in 1628 as Chronologer to the City of London but lost the position for failing to fulfill its responsibilities. King Charles was his ally, even commissioning him to write for the entertainment of the court; he also had the support of noble patrons and devoted friends among younger poets who were proud to be “sealed of the tribe of Ben.”

Jonson died on August 6, 1637, and a second folio of his works, which he had been compiling for some time, was printed in 1640, containing various parts with dates ranging from 1630 to 1642. It included all the plays mentioned in the previous paragraphs, except for “The Case is Altered;” the masques, around fifteen, that date between 1617 and 1630; another collection of lyrics and occasional poetry called “Underwoods,” which includes some additional entertainments; a translation of “Horace’s Art of Poetry” (also published in a vicesimo quarto in 1640), and certain fragments and collections that the poet likely wouldn’t have included himself. These last include a fragment (less than seventy lines) of a tragedy called “Mortimer his Fall,” and three acts of a pastoral drama with great beauty and poetic spirit, “The Sad Shepherd.” There is also the very interesting ‘English Grammar’ “made by Ben Jonson for the benefit of all strangers based on his observations of the English language currently spoken and in use,” in Latin and English; and ‘Timber, or discoveries’ “made upon men and matter as they flowed from his daily reading, or were influenced by his unique perspective on the times.” The ‘Discoveries,” as it is usually called, is a commonplace book similar to those kept by many literary figures, in which he chronicled his reading, translated or transcribed passages that caught his interest, and noted his temporary opinions. Many passages from Jonson’s ‘Discoveries’ are literal translations from the authors he happened to be reading, with references noted or not, depending on the moment. At times he follows Machiavelli’s line of reasoning regarding the nature and conduct of princes; at other times, he clarifies his own views on poetry and poets by referencing Aristotle. He finds a notable paragraph on eloquence in Seneca the Elder and applies it to his own recollections of Bacon’s oratorical skills; and another on accessible and spontaneous genius, translating it to relate to his thoughts on his fellow playwright, Shakespeare. To label such passages—which Jonson never intended for publication—as plagiarism is to misunderstand the importance of language. To undermine his legacy by citing them is a ludicrous misuse of scholarship. Jonson’s prose, in his plays, in the descriptive comments of his masques, and in the ‘Discoveries,’ is marked by clarity and strong directness, and it also displays a keen sense of form and the subtler refinements of diction.

When Jonson died, there was a plan for a beautiful monument in his honor. However, the Civil War was approaching, and the plan fell through. A memorial, though not lackluster, was carved on the stone that covers his grave in one of the aisles of Westminster Abbey:

“O rare Ben Jonson.”

FELIX E. SCHELLING.
THE COLLEGE, PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A.

Every Man in his Humour, 4to, 1601;
The Case is Altered, 4to, 1609;
Every Man out of his Humour, 4to, 1600;
Cynthia’s Revels, 4to, 1601;
Poetaster, 4to, 1602;
Sejanus, 4to, 1605;
Eastward Ho (with Chapman and Marston), 4to, 1605;
Volpone, 4to, 1607;
Epicoene, or the Silent Woman, 4to, 1609 (?), fol., 1616;
The Alchemist, 4to, 1612;
Catiline, his Conspiracy, 4to, 1611;
Bartholomew Fayre, 4to, 1614 (?), fol., 1631;
The Divell is an Asse, fol., 1631;
The Staple of Newes, fol., 1631;
The New Sun, 8vo, 1631, fol., 1692;
The Magnetic Lady, or Humours Reconcild, fol., 1640;
A Tale of a Tub, fol., 1640;
The Sad Shepherd, or a Tale of Robin Hood, fol., 1641;
Mortimer his Fall (fragment), fol., 1640.

To Jonson are also credited additions to Kyd’s Jeronymo, along with collaboration in The Widow with Fletcher and Middleton, and in the Bloody Brother with Fletcher.

Epigrams, The Forrest, Underwoods, published in folios, 1616, 1640;
Selections: Execration against Vulcan, and Epigrams, 1640;
G. Hor. Flaccus his art of Poetry, translated by Ben Jonson, 1640;
Leges Convivialis, folio, 1692.
Other minor poems first appeared in Gifford’s edition of Works.

Timber, or Discoveries made upon Men and Matter, fol., 1641;
The English Grammar, created by Ben Jonson for the benefit of foreigners, fol., 1640.

Masques and Entertainments were published in the early editions.

Fol., 1616, vol. 2, 1640 (1631-41);
fol., 1692, 1716-19, 1729;
edited by P. Whalley, 7 vols., 1756;
by Gifford (with Memoir), 9 vols., 1816, 1846;
re-edited by F. Cunningham, 3 vols., 1871;
in 9 vols., 1875;
by Barry Cornwall (with Memoir), 1838;
by B. Nicholson (Mermaid Series), with Introduction by C. H. Herford, 1893, etc.;
Nine Plays, 1904; ed. H. C. Hart (Standard Library), 1906, etc;
Plays and Poems, with Introduction by H. Morley (Universal Library), 1885;
Plays (7) and Poems (Newnes), 1905;
Poems, with Memoir by H. Bennett (Carlton Classics), 1907;
Masques and Entertainments, ed. by H. Morley, 1890.

J. A. Symonds, with a Biographical and Critical Essay, (Canterbury Poets), 1886;
Grosart, Brave Translunary Things, 1895;
Arber, Jonson Anthology, 1901;
Underwoods, Cambridge University Press, 1905;
Lyrics (Jonson, Beaumont, and Fletcher), the Chap Books, No. 4, 1906;
Songs (from Plays, Masques, etc.), with the earliest known setting, Eragny Press, 1906.

See Memoirs attached to Works;
J. A. Symonds (English Worthies), 1886;
Notes of Ben Jonson Conversations with Drummond of Hawthornden; Shakespeare Society, 1842; edited with Introduction and Notes by P. Sidney, 1906;
Swinburne, A Study of Ben Jonson, 1889.

TO THE NO LESS NOBLE BY VIRTUE THAN BLOOD
ESME LORD AUBIGNY

MY LORD,—If there’s any ruin that’s managed to stick around, I believe this is one I’m sending you, The Fall of Sejanus. It’s a poem that, if I remember correctly, faced as much anger from our people here as the subject did from the fury of the Romans; but it ended up with a different outcome, I hope, a better one: because this has survived their spite and gained a greater appreciation than he lost, the love of good people. Among whom, if I make your lordship the first to be acknowledged, it’s only right, as I fully recognize the gratitude I owe to your kindness, which has always bound me to you.

Your lordship's most loyal admirer.
BEN JONSON.

The following voluntary contributions from my friends, included at the beginning of my book, have helped me in many ways that I would have had to address on my own without them. Now, I will just add three or four brief and necessary notes, and then I'll be done.

First, if someone argues that what I publish isn’t a true poem by today’s standards, I admit it: I also lack a proper chorus; their roles and emotions are so complex that none I’ve seen, even since the ancients, have effectively captured them. It’s neither necessary nor really possible in our times, given the usual audiences, to adhere to the traditional grandeur of dramatic poems while still keeping them enjoyable. But I’ll discuss this more appropriately in my comments on Horace's Art of Poetry, which I plan to publish soon with a translation. In the meantime, if I have fulfilled the other functions of a tragic writer in terms of argument, character dignity, seriousness, and eloquence—along with depth and frequency of statements—don’t hold the absence of these forms against me; I will provide a reason soon, and without boasting, to show that I could have done a better job than to skip the necessary use due to lack of proper knowledge.

The next point is, in case the quotes seem pretentious in some sensitive nostrils, I want to make it clear that I despise nothing more; and I’ve only done this to show my honesty in the story and defend myself against those common critics who torture all cleverness; whose noses are always like pigs, ruining and digging up the Muses’ gardens; and their whole bodies like moles, blindly working underground to undermine any virtue, even the smallest. Since they are in Latin and the work is in English, it's assumed that only the educated would bother to compare them: the authors themselves are all in learned languages, except for one, which I’ve had little to do with in English. It might be needed to specify the editions I followed since I’ve quoted the page: Tacit. Lips. in quarto, Antwerp, edit. 1600; Dio. folio, Hen. Steph. 1592. For the others, like Suetonius, Seneca, etc., the chapter directs sufficiently, or the edition hasn’t changed.

Lastly, I want to let you know that this book, in all its parts, is not the same as the one that was performed on the public stage; it included contributions from a second writer. Instead, I've chosen to include my own weaker and, no doubt, less enjoyable work rather than take credit from such a talented creator through my unwanted appropriation.

Farewell, and if you read more about me and enjoy it, I won't be scared of it, even if you praise me to the skies.

Neck enim mihi cornea fibra est.

But if I were to base my happiness on your general words like "good" or "well," that would be a weakness that the better people among you might rightfully look down upon, if not completely despise me for.

BEN JONSON;
and no one like that,

Quem
Palma denied the lean, gives back the abundant.

AELIUS SEJANUS, the son of Seius Strabo, a gentleman from Rome, was born in Vulsinium. After years of service in the court, first under Augustus and later under Tiberius, he gained considerable favor with the latter and came close to being named a co-partner in the empire. This rise did not sit well with Drusus, the emperor’s son, who, after harboring many hidden resentments, publicly struck Sejanus in the face one day. To get back at Drusus for this humiliation, Livia, Drusus’s wife (who had already been compromised by Sejanus, much to her shame and the exposure of her husband's plans), conspired with Sejanus and a physician named Eudemus, along with an eunuch named Lygdus, to poison Drusus. This cruel plan was executed successfully and without suspicion, which gave Sejanus the confidence to pursue even bolder schemes, including an ambition for the empire itself. However, he realized he faced many significant obstacles regarding the heirs of Germanicus, who were the next in line for succession. To navigate this, Sejanus began manipulating Tiberius, planting doubts and suspicions about the princes and their mother, Agrippina. Tiberius listened closely, greedily agreeing to their downfall, as well as that of their allies. Meanwhile, to further solidify his strategy, Sejanus sought to marry Livia and worked diligently to isolate Tiberius from public affairs by tempting him with a quiet and secluded life. Tiberius, eager to indulge in his lust and to conceal his unnatural pleasures, welcomed the latter, but the idea of retirement sparked insecurities within him, leading to his first doubts about Sejanus. In response, he secretly enlisted a new ally, Sertorius Macro, who worked to uncover Sejanus's plans and methods while gauging the senators’ sentiments, creating division among them. Eventually, when Sejanus was least expecting it and feeling secure after a feigned honor bestowed upon him in the Senate, Tiberius led him away from his guards. In a single day, through a long and ambiguous letter, Sejanus was suspected, accused, condemned, and ultimately ripped apart by the fury of the people.

TIBERIUS.
DRUSUS SENIOR.
NERO.
DRUSUS JUNIOR.
CALIGULA.
LUCIUS ARRUNTIUS.
CAIUS SILIUS.
TITIUS SABINUS.
MARCUS LEPIDUS.
CREMUTIUS CORDUS.
ASINIUS GALLUS.
REGULUS.
TERENTIUS.
GRACINUS LACO.
EUDEMUS.
RUFUS.
SEJANUS.
LATIARIS.
VARRO.
SERTORIUS MACRO.
COTTA.
DOMITIUS AFER.
HATERIUS.
SANQUINIUS.
POMPONIUS.
JULIUS POSTHUMUS.
FULCINIUS TRIO.
MINUTIUS.
SATRIUS SECUNDUS.
PINNARIUS NATTA.
OPSIUS.

Tribuni.
Præcones.
Flamen.
Tubicines.
Nuntius.
Lictores.
Minisri.
Tibicines.
Servi etc.

AGRIPPINA.
LIVIA.
SOSIA.

Enter Sabinus, Silius, and Latiaris.

SABINUS.
Hey, Caius Silius!

SILIUS.
Titius Sabinus, hey! It's not often I see you in court.

SABINUS.
So, nice to meet you.

SILIUS.
It's true: this place really isn't where we belong.

SABINUS.
No, Silius, we’re not good schemers.
We want their fine arts, and their thriving use
Should make us graceful, or favored in these times:
We don’t have shifting faces, no double tongues,
No soft, sticky bodies that cling,
Like snails on painted walls; or, on our chests,
Creep up, only to fall from that proud height, to which
We rose through slavery, not through service.
We aren’t guilty, and therefore not great;
We have no position in court, no role in state,
That we can say we owe to our crimes:
We don’t burn with dark secrets that can make
Us dear to the pale writers; or live in fear
Of their constant jealousies, to raise
Ourselves a fortune by undermining theirs.
We don’t stand in the lines that lead
To that so sought-after point.

Enter Satrius and Natta, from afar.

SILIUS.
But over there,
There's a couple that do.

SABINUS.
[salutes Latiaris.] Hey cousin Latiaris.—

SILIUS.
Satrius Secundus and Pinnarius Natta,
The great Sejanus' followers: there are two,
Who know more than just honest advice; if you opened up their chests,
It would be revealed
As a poor and trivial sin, for which their bodies
Were not designed as suitable instruments. These guys can lie,
Flatter, swear, deny, corrupt, inform,
Smile, and betray; create guilty men; then plead
For their lives as a way to earn a living; cut
Men's throats with whispers; sell to eager seekers
The empty promises that float around the palace;
Laugh when their boss laughs; sweat when he sweats;
Be hot and cold with him; switch up their moods,
Appearance, and habits whenever he changes;
Watch him as his watch tracks the time;
And, true, as the turquoise in the lord’s ring,
Look good or bad to him: ready to praise
His lordship, whether he spits, or just passes gas,
Has a comfortable seat, or breaks wind well;
Nothing can escape their grasp.

SABINUS.
Oh no! These things
Aren't worth mentioning, compared to other disgusting
And more contemptible flatteries that ruin our times;
When not only our top officials are eager
To protect themselves from such disgraceful actions;
But all our consuls, and quite a few
Of those who have been praetors, yes, most
Of the senators, who otherwise keep quiet,
Suddenly stand up in the public senate and argue
Who will propose the most degrading and lowly ideas.
So much so that Tiberius has often been heard,
Leaving the court, to shout, Oh mankind;
Ready for slavery!—which showed that he.
Who cared least for public freedom,
Also could hardly tolerate their pathetic servitude.

SILIUS.
Well, everything is worthy of us, even more so,
Who, with our chaos, pride, and civil hatred,
Have so angered the justice of the gods:
We, who, in these eighty years, were born
Free, equal rulers of the conquered world,
And knew no masters, except our own passions;
By betraying our own freedoms first,
We then became slaves to one man’s desires;
And now to many: every spying servant
That will accuse and testify, is in charge of you,
Of me, of all our fortunes and our lives.
Our appearances are questioned, and our words,
No matter how innocent, are turned into crimes;
We won't soon dare to share our dreams,
Or even think, without it being considered treason. Sab. Tyrants’ tactics
Are to give flattering praise; accusers, power;
So that those who devour can seem to kill.

Enter Cordus and Arruntius.

Now, good Cremutius Cordus.

CORDUS.
[salutes Sabinus] Hi, my lord!

NATTA.
[whispers Latiaris.] Who’s that greeting your cousin?

LATIARIS.
It's a guy named Cordus,
A gentleman from Rome: he's reportedly written
Recent annals, and quite well, they say.

NATTA.
Annals! of which times?

LATIARIS.
I think about Pompey’s,
And Caius Caesar’s; and so on to these.

NATTA.
What’s his opinion on the current situation?
Is he with the Drusians, the Germans,
On our side, or neutral?

LATIARIS.
I don't know him that well.

NATTA.
Those times are a bit uncomfortable to discuss.
Have you seen or heard any part of his work?

LATIARIS.
Not me; he means they will be made public soon.

NATTA.
Oh, you call him Cordus?

LATIARIS.
Yeah.

[Natta and Satrius exit.]

SABINUS.
But our times now
Are different, Arruntius.

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh, the times! The men,
The men are not the same: we are low,
Poor, and fallen from the noble line
Of our great ancestors. Where is the spirit
Of the god-like Cato? He, who dared to be good,
When Cæsar dared to be evil; and had the strength,
Not to live as a slave, but to die as a master?
Or where’s the steadfast Brutus, who stood strong
Against all temptations of rewards, and struck
Such a courageous blow into the monster’s heart
That tried to unjustly enslave his country?
Oh, they have fled the light! Those great souls
Are buried with their ashes in their urns,
And not a spark of their eternal fire
Burns in the heart of today’s people. Everything's just a flash,
Flickers and smoke, with which we struggle so,
There's nothing Roman in us; nothing good,
Brave, or great: it’s true what Cordus says,
“Brave Cassius was the last of all that lineage.”

Drusus crosses the stage, accompanied by Haterius, and others.

SABINUS.
Hold on! Lord Drusus.

HATERIUS.
The emperor’s son! make way.

SILIUS.
I like the prince a lot.

ARRUNTIUS.
A wild young man;
There's not much hope for him.

SABINUS.
That flaw of his youth
Will, as he matures, fix itself. I think he carries himself
More nobly each day than before;
And he gains the affection of others
As much as his father loses it. Trust me,
I care for him; Mostly for standing up to Sejanus.

SILIUS.
And I, for honoring his young relatives so,
The sons of Prince Germanicus: it shows
A brave clarity in him, a clear mind,
That doesn’t envy, in them, their father’s name.

ARRUNTIUS.
His name was, while he lived, free from all jealousy;
And, in death, without it. Oh, that man!
If there were remnants of the old virtue remaining,
They were alive in him.

SILIUS.
He had the benefits, Arruntius,
More than the origins: Sabinus and I
Had ways to understand him deeply and can tell about him.
We were his followers; he would call us friends;
He was a man very close to virtue in every way,
And in every act, closer to the gods
Than to men by nature; with a body as beautiful
As his mind; and no less respected
In appearance than in reputation: he could handle his position
By balancing his greatness with seriousness,
So it avoided all self-centeredness in him,
And resentment in others. What his funeral lacked
In imagery and grandeur, they made up for
With honorable grief, soldiers’ sorrow,
A kind of quiet mourning, like that shown by men,
Who know no tears, except for their captives, in such great losses.

CORDUS.
I once thought,
Looking at how they looked, their age, how they died,
The closeness of the places where they fell,
To compare him to the great Alexander:
For both had striking features, came from noble backgrounds,
Were only thirty years old, and, in foreign lands,
Were killed by their own people in the same way.

SABINUS.
I don't know how you could twist his death:
But in life, his disregard for comparisons
Was as much as mine compared to my servant's, with that
Sensual, reckless, dizzy, and drunken Macedon. All the good in him,
His courage and success, he claimed for himself;
But he also had traits of the late Romans
That spoke even more: Pompey’s dignity,
Cato’s innocence, Cæsar’s spirit,
Wise Brutus’ self-control; and every virtue,
Which, granted to others, earned them their names,
Blended together in him. He was the embodiment of goodness;
And all our praises of him are like streams
Drawn from a spring, that keep rising strong, and leave
The remaining part the largest.

ARRUNTIUS.
I’m sure
He was too great for us, and they knew
Who took him away.

SABINUS.
When men rise quickly,
Honored and loved, there’s a strategy in politics,
Which jealous rulers always resort to,
To hinder that growth, under a fair guise,
And respectable reasons for work,
Whether by sending them on missions, to war, or similar,
To shift them away into a different environment,
Where they can be diminished and weakened; that was him:
And he had his supporters there, sent by Tiberius,
And his more cunning mother, to unsettle him;
To create and foster rebellions; undermine
His greatest achievements; boldly challenge
His orders; and conspire to accuse him
In an open act of treason. All these traps,
When his wise precautions thwarted, a clever poison
Was devised to facilitate their schemes.

Enter Sejanus talking to Terence, followed by Satrius, Natta, etc.

CORDUS.
Sejanus is coming.

SILIUS.
Now take a look at the stoops,
The bends, and the falls.

ARRUNTIUS.
Most cringeworthy!

SEJANUS.
[to Natta.] I've taken note of them: nothing more. What about you?

SATRIUS.
My lord,
There is a man from Rome who wants to buy-

SEJANUS.
What do you call the person you were talking to?

SATRIUS.
Please, my lord,
It’s Eudemus, the doctor
to Livia, Drusus’ wife.

SEJANUS.
Go ahead with your request. You mentioned you would buy—

SATRIUS.
A tribune's seat, my lord.

SEJANUS.
What will he offer?

SATRIUS.
Fifty sesterces.

SEJANUS.
So, you’re saying that Livia's doctor is that guy?

SATRIUS.
It is, my lord: Your answer, sir.

SEJANUS.
To what?

SATRIUS.
The location, my lord. It’s suitable for a gentleman
Your lordship will appreciate it when you meet him;
And one that you can claim as yours, by permission.

SEJANUS.
Alright, let him bring his money and his name.

SATRIUS.
Thank you, my lord. He will, my lord.

SEJANUS.
Come here.
Do you know this Eudemus? Is he knowledgeable?

SATRIUS.
That's what they say, my lord, and he has a lot of experience.

SEJANUS.
Bring him in to me in the gallery;
And make sure to leave us alone there:
I want to talk to him about a problem—
On.

[Exit Sejanus, Satrius, Terentius, etc.]

ARRUNTIUS.
So! Another one? Really? Oh, what a desperate situation
Of crawling honor! Do you see this, oh sun,
And do we see you afterward? I think the day
Should lose its light when people lose their shame,
And for the meaningless routine of life,
Betray their reason for living.

SILIUS.
Not at all.
Sejanus can fix things, even if Jove brings ruin.
He’s the top god at court now; and with plenty of kneeling, bending, and flattering;
He can achieve more than the entire heavenly host
Could, for a thousand sacrifices. It’s he
Who gives us our day, or night; hell and paradise
Are in his gaze: we talk about Rhadamanth,
Furies, and firebrands; but it’s his frown
That embodies all of these; while, on the other side,
His smile is worth more than anything poets have ever imagined
Of bliss, and shadows, nectar—

ARRUNTIUS.
A servant boy!
I knew him, at Caius’ table, when he rented out
His mistreated body
To that greedy glutton, fat Apicius;
And was the well-known lover of the time.

SABINUS.
And now, the second face of the entire world!
The empire’s partner has his image
Raised equal with Tiberius, born in power;
Commands and controls every position,
Centurions, tribunes, governors,
Praetors and consuls; everything that once
Rome's general vote provided is now for him to sell.
The wealth, or rather plunder of the whole earth,
Is taken by one person and his family.

SILIUS.
Recently, he has
Built up his own power by gathering
All the praetorian troops into one camp,
Which he controls: claiming that the soldiers,
By living loosely and scattered, fell into chaos;
And that if any sudden mission
Were to arise, their combined strength
Would be much greater than if separated; and their lives
Would be more disciplined, if they stayed further away from the city.

SABINUS.
Now, wherever he decides to build his forts,
He’s known to engage the soldiers by name,
He entertains the top leaders of action,
Whose needs, not desires, force them to align with him.
And even though he’s never been generous by nature,
Yet for his own selfish goals, he’s quite extravagant,
Wasting and giving freely, he doesn’t care what
It costs him in his pursuit of ambition.

ARRUNTIUS.
But does he have ambition?
Is there any position in the government that can elevate him,
Or make him more than he is, but not less?

SILIUS.
Just an emperor.

ARRUNTIUS.
I hope the name Tiberius will endure, even though he has given up the dignity and power.

SILIUS.
Sure, as long as he’s alive.

ARRUNTIUS.
And dead, it comes to Drusus.
Should he fail, to the brave descendants of Germanicus;
And there are three of them: too many, right? for him
To have a scheme against!

SABINUS.
I don't know
What his plans are; but I’m sure, they seem
To reach beyond the here and now.

ARRUNTIUS.
By the gods,
If I could guess he had even the slightest thought of that,
My sword would cut him down from head to heart,
But I would figure it out: and with my hand
I’d throw his gasping brain around in the air
In pieces, as small as atoms, to ruin
The tangled bed-

SABINUS.
You're being watched, Arruntius.

ARRUNTIUS.
[turns to Natta, Terentius, etc.]
Death! I’ll boldly say it to him and all his spies:
You, sir, I would, do you see? and you.

SABINUS.
Wait.

Enter Satrius with Eudemus.

SATRIUS.
He'll be here any minute: let's take a stroll;
You're deep in thought, Eudemus.

EUDEMUS.
Not me, sir.
I can't believe he's singled me out like that! Well,
Jove and Apollo must have a good reason for it. [Aside.

SATRIUS.
Your luck is right there for you now, Eudemus,
If you can just confidently grab the opportunity;
Just pay attention to his mood, and—trust me—
He is the finest Roman, wherever he goes—

Enter Sejanus.

Here comes the lord.

SEJANUS.
Now, good Satrius.

SATRIUS.
This is the man, my lord.

SEJANUS.
Is this you?
Give me your hand—we need to get to know each other better.
I've heard, sir, about your skills and knowledge:
And I'm happy I have such a compelling reason,
Even though it’s painful and difficult,
To meet someone of such great talent.—Look,
Who is that, Satrius?

[Exit Satrius.]

I have a problem, sir,
That will need your help. Your name’s Eudemus!

EUDEMUS.
Yes.

SEJANUS.
Sir?

EUDEMUS.
Yes, my lord.

SEJANUS.
I hear you are
the doctor for Livia, the princess.

EUDEMUS.
I serve her, my good lord.

SEJANUS.
So, you serve a royal lady, then.

EUDEMUS.
She is, my lord, and beautiful.

SEJANUS.
That’s clear
Of all her kind, who are or want to be like that;
And those who want to be, medicine can easily change them:
For those who are, their beauty doesn’t shy away from any color.

EUDEMUS.
You think highly of yourself.

SEJANUS.
Sir, you know it,
And can, if necessary, give an informative lecture
On this and other secrets. Please, tell me,
What other ladies besides Livia
Do you consider your clients?

EUDEMUS.
Many, my good lord.
The great Augusta, Urgulania,
Mutilia Prisca, and Plancina; various—

SEJANUS.
And do all these explain the details
Of each specific sorrow? How it started,
Then grew; what action triggered it;
What feeling caused that: and respond to every aspect
That you want to ask?

EUDEMUS.
Otherwise, my lord, we don't know
How to suggest the solutions.

SEJANUS.
Come on,
you are a clever bunch, you doctors!
And you've become the only ones in the court,
To the ladies’ secrets. Honestly, which of these
Is the most charming lady in her medicine?
Come on, you’re being modest now.

EUDEMUS.
It's appropriate, my lord.

SEJANUS.
Why, sir, I'm not asking you about their urine,
Whose smells the sweetest, or whose strategy is best,
Or who makes the most uncomfortable faces in the toilet?
Which lady sleeps with her own face at night?
Which takes off her teeth, along with her clothes, in court?
Or which her hair, which her complexion,
And in which box she stores it; These were questions,
That might have made you blush a little. But I wanted to know,
Which was the wittiest, funniest, most flirtatious?
Harmless questions, but playful thoughts.—
I think Augusta should be the most contrary,
And stubborn in her mood.

EUDEMUS.
She’s so, my lord.

SEJANUS.
I knew it: and Mutilia was the happiest of them all.

EUDEMUS.
It’s very true, my lord.

SEJANUS.
And why would you
hide this from me now? Come on, what’s up with Livia?
I know she’s sharp and has a quirky spirit,
and she'll have odd ideas when she has some free time:
She shares them all with you.

EUDEMUS.
My noble lord,
He doesn’t breathe in the empire or on earth.
Whom I would be eager to serve
In any way that might preserve my honor,
Before your lordship.

SEJANUS.
Sir, you won’t lose any honor
By trusting anything to me. Even the simplest act
Done for my benefit, I can repay
In a way that everyone will see as honorable:
Your useless, moral definitions
Make honor weak and are looked down on as pointless:
Those actions bring honor that also bring profit.

EUDEMUS.
But, my lord, if I were to betray
The plans of my patient and a lady of her
Noble status and value; what would you,
Who are about to trust me with your own,
Think of my loyalty?

SEJANUS.
I swear, only the best.
Now let me share my pain with you,
And the real reason behind it; that it’s love,
Love for Livia; you should let her know this:
If she doubts your loyalty; I wish you could
Tell me as much from her; let's see if my mind
Could grow jealous.

EUDEMUS.
Fortunately, my lord,
I could eventually share with you as much and more;
So I could confidently promise just the first
To her from you.

SEJANUS.
As confidently, my Eudemus,
I now dare to call you that, since I've shared
The secret with you.

EUDEMUS.
My lord—

SEJANUS.
Don't protest,
Your expressions are promises to me; just act quickly,
And only win her over with Sejanus’ love,
You are a man, born to create consuls. Go.

EUDEMUS.
My lord, I promise you a private meeting
together today.

SEJANUS.
Can you?

EUDEMUS.
Yep.

SEJANUS.
Where is it?

EUDEMUS.
My gardens, where I'll take you, my lord

SEJANUS.
Let me worship my Æsculapius.
This really is healing! It speaks louder
Than the knowledge of cheap remedies or any use
That can be made from them! More comforting
Than all your painkillers, tonics, herbal teas,
Special syrups, or—Get lost, my friend,
Not just merely named, but truly created;
Expect greater things than your highest hopes
To catch up with you: Fortune will be taught
To recognize how poorly she has treated you for so long,
To lag behind your desires. Go, and good luck.

[Exit Eudemus.]

Ambition creates more reliable followers than necessity.
These guys, thanks to their skills,
Always have the ability to tempt; often the power.
If Livia can be corrupted now, then
You've got the means, Sejanus, to uncover
His secrets, who, as you know, can't stand you,
Her husband, Drusus: and to undermine them.
Make it happen, Pallas, you who improve intellect;
Because love has the least influence in this.

Enter Tiberius and Drusus, accompanied.

TIBERIUS.
[to Haterius, who is kneeling before him.]
We can’t tolerate these flattery; let him stand;
Our empire, standards, axes, rods, and authority
Don’t take away our humanity:
Look up at us, and bow down before the gods.

SEJANUS.
César talks like a god!

ARRUNTIUS.
Look over there!
He can handle that moment; it's not just flattery.
Oh, what is it? The arrogant fool can't accept
His own value, to hear it praised equally
Alongside the gods!

CORDUS.
He didn't hear it, sir.

ARRUNTIUS.
He didn't! No way, he can't be serious, we think poorly of that.
It's your most refined form of collaboration,
To have your personal sycophant save,
What he, in public, cleverly will sacrifice,
To give him a reputation.

HATERIUS.
Right noble lord—

Gives him messages.

TIBERIUS.
We need to shield ourselves from these attacks
Of persuasive voices; we ask you to stop
With these insults to us; don’t refer to us
As lord or mighty, when we consider ourselves
The servant of the senate, and are honored
To receive the goodwill of our fair and supportive lords.

CORDUS.
Rarely pretended!

ARRUNTIUS.
Prince-like in appearance.

SABINUS.
When power that can command comes down so much,
It means to bind those it turns to.

TIBERIUS.
Where are these letters from?

HATERIUS.
From the Senate.

Tiberius.
Okay.

[Latiaris gives him letters.]

Where did these come from?

LATIARIS.
From there too.

TIBERIUS.
Are they sitting down now?

LATIARIS.
They await your answer, Caesar.

SILIUS.
If this man
Had a mind that matched his words,
What a blessed fate it would be for us and Rome!
We couldn't even imagine changing the state,
Even if the goal was our old freedom:
The spirits of those who fell for that would mourn
Because their bodies don't live again to serve.
People are fooled if they think there can be loyalty
Under a virtuous prince: Desired freedom
Never looks more beautiful than under such a crown.
But when his grace is only talk and nothing more,
And that lasts no longer than he presents himself
In public, trying to avoid
The strokes and stripes of flatterers, who are like
Lust to him, feeding
His brutish instincts with their painful words,
As, dead to virtue, he lets himself
Be carried around like a pitcher by the ears,
To every act of vice: this situation
Deserves our fear and signals the imminent
And close approach of bloodshed and tyranny.
Flattery is the midwife to a prince’s rage:
And nothing brings forth a tyrant quicker
Than that and the grace of whisperers, who have the time,
The place, the power, to make everyone offenders.

ARRUNTIUS.
He needs to be informed of this; and advised to pretend
Around fools and blind people: those of us who see the danger,
Should go after the palace rats or give them poison;
Scare away these creatures worse than ravens, who feast on the living,
While they only pick at the dead:
He will be told.

SABINUS.
Wait, Arruntius,
We need to wait for our chance;
And do what's right, as well as what's necessary.
It's not wise to force a ruler's attention:
Leaders listen well, but only if they choose to.

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh, really? Alright! In the meantime, Jove,
(I won't say it, but I'm calling on you now,)

SILIUS.
That's well said.

TIBERIUS.
[having read the letters.]
Tell the lords this message,—
We are their servant,
And it is right for a good and honest ruler,
Whom they, out of their generosity, have entrusted
With such extensive and absolute power,
To owe the responsibility of it to their service.
And for the benefit of every citizen.
We will never regret wishing for
A just senate and supportive lords for us,
Since their goodwill offers just as much protection
To a ruler's state as his own integrity.
So, there can be nothing in their thoughts
That won't please us if it has pleased them;
Our agreement will come before their wishes: it is our duty to obey,
Where such, so great, so serious, and so good decide.
However, regarding Spain’s request to build a temple
In honor of our mother and ourselves,
We must, with the senate’s permission, not
Agree to it. They may point out
That we did not deny the same recent request
From the Asian cities: we wish
That our defense for allowing that be understood
In these brief reasons, along with our future intentions.
Since the deified Augustus did not prevent
A temple from being built at Pergamum,
In honor of himself and sacred Rome;
We, who have always followed
All his actions and words instead of laws,
Prefer to follow that pleasing example, since it was shared with
The senate’s respect as well.
But to have once received it might deserve
The gain of forgiveness; yet, to be worshipped
With the ongoing title and recognition of gods,
Throughout all the provinces, would be reckless ambition.
And no less pride: yes, even Augustus’ name
Would quickly fade if it were tarnished
With such indiscriminate flattery. For our part,
We declare here that we are eager
For future generations to know this: we are mortal;
And can only achieve human deeds: it would be glory enough,
If we could truly be a prince. And, they shall add
Abundant grace to our memory,
That will show us as worthy of our ancestors,
Concerned for your affairs, steadfast in danger,
And unafraid of any personal disapproval
For the public good. These things will serve as
Temples and statues, raised in your minds,
The finest and most enduring images:
For those made of stone or bronze, if they become
Disgraced in the judgment of future generations,
Are more despised as decaying monuments
Than seen as living tributes. We then
Present our plea, to both gods and men;
To the former, until the end of our days,
To grant us a calm and clear mind,
Recognizing both divine and human laws;
To the latter, to allow us after death,
An honorable mention and fair praise,
To accompany our actions and our name:
The rest of the greatness princes may command,
And thus may overlook; only a lasting,
High, and happy memory
They should, without being satisfied, pursue:
Disregard for fame breeds disregard for virtue.

NATTA.
Rare!

SATRIUS.
So divine!

SEJANUS.
The oracles have stopped,
So only Cæsar can speak for them.

ARRUNTIUS.
Let me leave: this is most clear and obvious!

CORDUS.
Wait.

ARRUNTIUS.
What! To hear more clever and smooth talk,
Flattered by their sound before the meaning is understood?

TIBERIUS.
Their choice of Antium to place the gift
Vowed to the goddess for our mother’s health,
We'll inform the senate, and we support it:
As well as their decision regarding Lepidus,
For his repair of the AEmilian place,
And the restoration of those monuments:
Their decision to confine Silanus
To the other island of Cithera, at the request
Of his devoted sister, also praises
Their strategy, which is balanced with their mercy.
But regarding the honors they've granted
To our Sejanus, to promote his statue
In Pompey’s theater, (whose destruction by fire
His vigilance and efforts kept in check
Amid that loss,) they have exceeded
Their own great wisdom by their careful choice,
And by placing their rewards on a man,
Whose merits enhance the honor
More than the honor can enhance him; and it provides a benefit,
In taking, greater than it can accept.
Don’t be embarrassed, Sejanus, our great support for Rome,
Partner in our efforts, our chief ally;
Let’s not impose on your humble modesty
By praising you too much, as we cannot,
Since no words can do it justice.
No one here should take our words as exaggerations:
For we’re far from flattering our friend,
Let envy recognize it, as we have no need to flatter.
Nor should they question the reasons for our praise:
Rulers always have their foundations built higher,
Above the lowly plains of common folks;
And those who seek to understand their actions,
Must stand on equal ground. Let’s go:
Our love for the senate awaits.

[Exeunt Tiberius, Sejanus, Natta, Haterius, Latiaris, Officers, etc.]

ARRUNTIUS.
Caesar!

SABINUS.
Cool.

CORDUS.
Great Pompey’s theater was never destroyed
Until now, that arrogant Sejanus has a statue
Erected on his ashes.

ARRUNTIUS.
Should we place the shame of soldiers,
Above the best of generals? Break the world,
And crush the name of Romans into dust,
Before we see it!

SILIUS.
Calm down; Lord Drusus is delayed.

DRUSUS.
Is my father crazy,
Tired of life and power, lords? To raise
An idol with so much praise! To make him his equal,
His competitor in the empire!

Arruntius.
Oh, good prince.

DRUSUS.
Let him have statues, titles, and honors, just
As he himself rejects!

ARRUNTIUS.
Courageous, courageous Drusus!

DRUSUS.
The initial steps to power are tough;
But once you’ve gotten in, there’s never a shortage of people or resources,
Or helpers, to support the one striving for more.

ARRUNTIUS.
For real, brave Drusus.

DRUSUS.
We should quickly pray
To Modesty, that he will be satisfied—

ARRUNTIUS.
Yeah, where he is, and won't write emperor.

Re-enter Sejanus, Satrius, Latiaris, Clients, etc.

SEJANUS.
There is your bill, and yours; bring your guy.
[To Satrius.]
I’ve taken care of this for you too, Latiaris.

DRUSUS.
What!
Has your immense power made you so recklessly arrogant,
That you will look down on us?

SEJANUS.
Why give in then?

DRUSUS.
Step aside, Colossus! Are you lifting? Are you moving forward?
Take that!

[Hits him.]

ARRUNTIUS.
Awesome! Brave! Excellent, brave prince!

DRUSUS.
No, come closer.

[Unsheathes his sword.]

What, are you just standing there? Staring?
It seems too filled with death for your cold soul.
Look away from me, dull coward, or my sword
Will make your bravery more suited for a grave,
Than for a victory. I’ll create a statue
Of your own size; but it will be on a cross;
Where I will nail your pride down flat and long,
And break those muscles, which are still just stretched
From the fury of your swollen fortune.

ARRUNTIUS.
A noble prince!

ALL.
A Castor, a Castor, a Castor, a Castor!

[Everyone leaves except Sejanus.]

SEJANUS.
He who, despite being wronged, can get through it
With patience and a calm mind, knows how
To turn it around. Hidden anger brings doom:
Revenge fades if I show my hate.
What I was planning before, I’ll now follow through,
As my fierce justice: this has made it different.

[Log out.]

Enter Sejanus, Livia, and Eudemus.

SEJANUS.
Doctor, you deserve a province.
For the huge favors you've done for our love;
And if it weren't for the great Livia being involved
In rewarding your services,
I would alone lose hope of finding any way
To give them a deserving reward.

LIVIA.
Eudemus, I will make sure he gets
A proper and complete reward for his great worth.—
But regarding this potion we plan for Drusus,
No longer our husband now, who should we select
As the most suitable and capable person,
To administer it to him?

EUDEMUS.
I mean, Lygdus.

SEJANUS.
Lygdus? Who is he?

LIVIA.
A eunuch Drusus loves.

EUDEMUS.
Yeah, and his cup-bearer.

SEJANUS.
Don't mention a second.
If Drusus loves him, and he has that position,
We can't think of a better fit.

EUDEMUS.
That's true, my lord.
Because having free access and trust are two big advantages.

SEJANUS.
Skilled doctor!

LIVIA.
But he must be prepared
For the task, with some careful effort.

SEJANUS.
Is he ambitious?

LIVIA.
No.

SEJANUS.
Or greedy?

LIVIA.
Nope.

EUDEMUS.
Still, gold is a great all-purpose charm.

SEJANUS.
Who is he, then?

LIVIA.
Faith, just carefree and bright.

SEJANUS.
What! Is he young and good-looking?

EUDEMUS.
A sensitive young person.

SEJANUS.
Send him to me, I'll handle it. — Royal lady,
Even though I've loved you for a long time, with a passion
That's intense and devoted, like fire that trembles
As it rises, thinking nothing could add
To the warmth your gaze ignited;
Now, seeing your wisdom, judgment, strength,
Quickness, and determination to grasp
The means to your own good and greatness, I admit
I feel elevated and completely absorbed
In your affection: a spirit like yours,
Was not made to be just a sidekick
To a mere flicker, like Drusus; but to shine
Bright like the moon among the stars,
And share the sovereignty of the world.
Then Livia truly shines in her rightful place,
When she and her Sejanus share
The name of Caesar, and Augusta’s star
Is dimmed by the glory of a brighter light:
When Agrippina’s flames are completely out,
And the soon-to-come Tiberius gets all
His little light from us, whose united arms
Will create one perfect sphere.

[Knocking inside.]

Who's that? Eudemus, look.

[Exit Eudemus.]

It’s not Drusus, lady, don’t worry.

LIVIA.
Not me, my lord: my fear and love for him
went away instantly.

SEJANUS.
Esteemed lady, wait—

EUDEMUS.
[within.] I’ll inform his lordship.

Re-enter Eudemus.

SEJANUS.
Who's that, Eudemus?

EUDEMUS.
One of your lord's servants tells you
The emperor has called for you.

SEJANUS.
Oh! Where is he?
With your kind permission, dear princess, I’ll just ask
A question and come back.

[Log out.]

EUDEMUS.
Lucky princess!
How blessed you are to have
This unmatched man, the heart of Rome,
The lifeblood of the empire, and the voice of Caesar’s world!

LIVIA.
So fortunate, my Eudemus, to understand
The happiness I have, along with what I should owe
To the efforts that brought it about. How do I look today?

EUDEMUS.
It's truly clear, believe it. This same fucus
Was applied perfectly.

LIVIA.
I think it’s not white.

EUDEMUS.
Give me your red, my lady. It’s the sun,
That has given a slight tint to your makeup;
You should have used the white oil I gave you.
Sejanus, for your love! His very name
Commands more than Cupid or his arrows—

[Applies makeup to her cheeks.]

LIVIA.
No, now you've made it worse.

EUDEMUS.
I’ll make it right—
And just saying it is enough to charm
Away all gossip; it has the full power
To defend any lady’s honor.

LIVIA.
What are you doing now, Eudemus?

EUDEMUS.
Create a light distraction,
To connect with you completely.—Honored Sejanus!
What action, no matter how strange and bold,
But that addition will at least support,
Even if it doesn't atone?

LIVIA.
Hello, good doctor.

EUDEMUS.
I think this study is about keeping the love
Of a man like him, who doesn’t come around often
To greet the world. Well, lady, you should
Use the toothpaste I suggested for you too,
To brighten your teeth, and the special cream,
To smooth your skin:—A lady can’t be
Too careful about her looks if she wants to hold
The heart of someone who has become her captive,
As you have with him: who, to endear himself more
In your beautiful eyes, has put away his wife,
The burden of his bed, and your joys,
Lovely Apicata, and made plenty of room
For your new pleasures.

LIVIA.
Haven't we returned
That with our hatred for Drusus, and uncovering
All his plans?

EUDEMUS.
Yes, wisely said, my lady.
Future generations, far away
Watching your great wisdom, will admire,
And consider it an achievement beyond your gender:
It has that rare quality. Some will believe
Your fortune couldn’t echo any deeper,
Than when mixed with Drusus; but when they hear
That, along with the roar of Sejanus,
Sejanus, whose high name reaches the stars,
And resonates throughout the universe; great Sejanus,
Whose glories, style, and titles are one and the same,
The constant repetition of Sejanus:
They will then be lost in thought, and embarrassed
To acknowledge them.

Re-enter Sejanus.

SEJANUS.
I have to leave abruptly, my lady: Cæsar is sending
With all urgency both orders and requests.
Stay committed to our plan; you have my heart,
As certainly as it is my body’s.
And, wise doctor, please prepare the poison,
So you can attribute the subtle act
To some natural illness of his:
Send your eunuch to me. I kiss your hands,
Glory of women, and entrust my love
To your best faith and memory.

LIVIA.
My lord,
I’ll just rephrase what you said. Goodbye.
But remember this: he doesn’t love you;
You know what I’ve told you: his plans
Are filled with resentment and risk; we need to act
Faster than usual.

SEJANUS.
You really ignite my passion, dear lady!

LIVIA.
So, you have to go?
The best thoughts are often the ones that are kept to ourselves.

[Exit Sejanus.]

EUDEMUS.
When are you going to take some medicine, lady?

LIVIA.
When
I will, Eudemus: but let Drusus’ medication
Be ready first.

EUDEMUS.
If Lygdus is made, it’s ready;
I’ve got it set. Tomorrow morning
I’ll send you a fragrance to help you feel good
And get rid of sweat, then I’ll prepare a bath
To cleanse and brighten your skin; by then
I’ll have a fantastic new tint created,
Resistant to the sun, rain, or wind,
Which you can apply with a puff or oil,
Whichever you prefer, and it’ll last about fourteen hours.
This change happened just in time, lady, for your health,
And to bring back your glow,
Which Drusus’ anger nearly destroyed!
In this, luck has provided you something better
Than what art could offer.

LIVIA.
Thanks, great doctor,
I'll use my wealth wisely, you'll see, with respect.
Is my carriage ready?

EUDEMUS.
It's here for your highness.

[Exit.]

Enter Sejanus.

SEJANUS.
If this isn't revenge, once I’ve finished
And made it perfect, then let Egyptian slaves,
Parthians, and barefoot Hebrews mark my face,
And cover my body with wounds.
You lost yourself, dear Drusus, when you thought
You could escape my revenge or withstand
The power I had to crush you into nothing.
Your foolishness will now experience what kind of man
You have provoked, and this your father's house
Will crack under the blaze of my raging anger,
Whose fury will know no shame or restraint.—
Adultery! It's the slightest wrong
I will commit. A cascade of wicked acts
Will flow from my anger and spread
Across the world, which no future generation
Will ever approve of, nor keep quiet about: actions
That, for their cunning, secrecy, and cruelty,
Your father would wish to avoid; and perhaps,
They will carry the empty name, but we will take the prize.
Onward, then, my soul, and don’t waver in your path;
Though heaven rains down sulfur, and hell spews fire,
Laugh at the empty fears; tell proud Jove,
That between his power and yours there is no comparison:
It was only fear that first made gods in this world!

Enter Tiberius, accompanied.

TIBERIUS.
Is Sejanus here yet?

SEJANUS.
He's here, dreaded Caesar.

TIBERIUS.
Everyone leave this room, and the next one too.

[Attendants exit.]

Sit down, my dear. When the great prince
Of the whole world, Sejanus, says he's afraid,
Is that not deadly?

SEJANUS.
Yes, to those who are feared.

TIBERIUS.
And not to him?

SEJANUS.
Not, if he wisely shifts
That part of fate he controls, first onto them.

TIBERIUS.
That nature, lineage, and the laws of family prohibit.

SEJANUS.
Does policy and the state prohibit it?

Tiberius.
No.

SEJANUS.
The remaining poor respects, then, are abandoned;
The state alone is enough to justify the act, making them guilty.

TIBERIUS.
Long-lasting hate follows such acts.

SEJANUS.
Anyone who is afraid of hatred
Should not dream of power.

TIBERIUS.
Are the rituals
Of faith, love, and devotion, to be trampled,
Forgotten, and rendered meaningless?

SEJANUS.
All for a crown.
The prince who tarnishes a tyrant’s name to rule,
Will only act out of fear;
All power from the scepter completely disappears,
If it starts to entertain religious thoughts:
Entire empires collapse, influenced by these delicate concerns;
It’s the freedom to commit dark deeds that safeguards
Even the most despised states when no laws oppose
The sword, but it does whatever it wants.

TIBERIUS.
But even so, we can do everything harshly,
Not without risk.

SEJANUS.
Yes, and do them well.

TIBERIUS.
Does Sejanus know that we're talking about him?

SEJANUS.
Yes,
Or maybe my thoughts, my perception, or both are wrong:
It’s Agrippina.

TIBERIUS.
Her and her proud lineage.

SEJANUS.
Proud! Dangerous, Caesar: because in them quickly
The father's spirit rises. Germanicus
Lives in their expressions, their walk, their appearance, to remind us
Of his untimely death, if not seek the same revenge.

TIBERIUS.
The act is unknown.

SEJANUS.
Not proven: but whispers of Fame
Knowledge and proof can make the jealous doubt,
Who, rather than fail, would trust their own thoughts.
It's not safe for children to take a deep breath,
When stirred by a parent's death.

TIBERIUS.
It's just as dangerous to send them away,
If their only crime is their birth.

SEJANUS.
Wait until they go after Caesar; then their crime
Will be serious enough, but it will be too late and too delayed for him to punish.

TIBERIUS.
Do they intend that?

SEJANUS.
You know, sir, thunder doesn’t speak until it strikes.
Don’t feel too safe; none are oppressed quicker
Than those who let confidence lull them into rest.
Don’t let your boldness put you in more danger:
All power should be feared when it’s too much.
The young men are naturally hot-headed and violent,
Full of big ideas; and that strong-minded woman,
Their mother, spares no effort to push them forward,
With generous support, public appearances,
Increased entourage and status, seeking titles;
She has them praised with similar prayers and vows,
To the same gods as Caesar: day and night
She spends in banquets and ambitious feasts
For the elite; where Caius Silius,
Titius Sabinus, old Arruntius,
Asinius Gallus, Furnius, Regulus,
And others from that discontented crowd,
Are the main guests. There, to these people, she boasts
About whose niece she is, whose daughter, and whose wife.
And then they have to compare her to Augusta,
Yes, and even prefer her too; praise her beauty,
Exalt her fertility; at which a shower
Falls in memory of Germanicus,
Which they immediately cover with windy praise,
And inflated hopes for her ambitious sons;
Who, with these constant flattery, become so pleased,
And arrogantly self-assured,
That now they don’t hesitate to believe they’re indeed
What people claim they are; and wish to be seen
As more than rivals, true heirs.
While, in pursuit of power, they sway the crowd
(Which is always eager for something new) with hopes
Of future freedom, which with every change
They greedily, though vainly, expect.
Caesar, it’s age in everything that leads to neglect,
And rulers who wish to maintain old dignity
Must not let too young heirs stand beside them;
Not their own offspring; but set them so dimly
Like shadows in a painting, to add depth
And brightness to themselves.

TIBERIUS.
We will take control
Of their reckless ideas and, with a firmer grip
Than we've shown so far; they must lower their ambitions,
Their titles, celebrations, and disagreements.

SEJANUS.
Or your situation.
But how, sir, are you going to get this done!

TIBERIUS.
Restrict them.

SEJANUS.
No.
They are too powerful, and that's too weak of a strike
To hit them with now; it would have worked at first,
When the slightest touch could have made their plans fall apart.
But now, your focus should be on not revealing
The smallest thread or hint of your suspicions;
Because those who understand the weight of a prince's fears,
Will, when they realize they’ve been exposed, rise up
Like visible snakes that would otherwise lie
Coiled in their circles, hidden: nothing is bolder,
More daring, or desperate, than found offenders;
Where there’s guilt, there’s both rage and courage.
The strategy must be to let them grow in power,
Revel, and indulge in blind luck’s offerings;
Give them more space, more honors, more status,
Invite them to court and the senate; meanwhile,
Weaken their strength by removing a few key players,
(This will scare the rest away),
And by some side event. Thus, with subtlety
You’ll disarm them first; and they, in the darkness
Of their ambition, won’t see the trap,
Until they’re caught in it and destroyed.

TIBERIUS.
We wouldn't kill if we knew how to save;
But it's cheaper to give a grave than a throne.
Is there no way to hold them accountable for their actions?

SEJANUS.
Sir, wolves may change their fur, but not their hearts.
While your thoughts are stuck in a low place,
You neither take enough risks nor make the necessary preparations.
All modesty is foolish, especially when
The subject is forced to endure as much
As to praise the actions of their ruler.

TIBERIUS.
We can’t keep pretending to you anymore, our dear Sejanus;
Your thoughts are like ours, and we’ve just reflected
Them in our plans, which, by agreeing,
Has strengthened us more than if encouraging Jove
Had told us to act from his hundred statues,
And at the moment of action, clicked all his marble thumbs.
But who will be the first to be hit?

SEJANUS.
First Caius Silius;
He stands out the most, and he’s the most dangerous:
Equally strong in power and reputation,
Having led an imperial army
For seven years, he defeated Sacrovir
In Germany, and from that victory, he was allowed
To wear the triumphal decorations. His steep fall,
By how much it adds to the impact,
Will send more painful fear to the others,
Ordering them to keep their distance and make way
For our surprise attack on the main target.

TIBERIUS.
But what’s up, Sabinus?

SEJANUS.
Let him develop for a bit,
His fate isn't ready yet: we shouldn't act
Too soon, or we might get caught ourselves.
And then there’s Arruntius too, he just talks.
But Sosia, Silius’ wife, is getting involved
Now, because she has a rage in her heart,
More than hell ever knew; and she'll be sent
There in due time. Then there's Cremutius
Cordus, a writer, they’ve got him
To compile notes from previous times,
And turn them into Annals; a very sharp
And bitter spirit, I hear; who, under the guise
Of praising those, criticizes the current state,
Judges the people, the actions, leaves no scheme,
No tactic unchecked, compares
The eras, the governments; a devoted advocate
For the old freedom—

TIBERIUS.
A dying misery!
As if there was a chaos created in things,
That laws and freedom would prefer
To be completely shattered and taken away by us,
Rather than be tarnished by such individuals.
Do we have the ability to make these guilt-ridden first?

SEJANUS.
Leave that to me: let Caesar, with his authority,
Call for a formal meeting of the senate,
I will have evidence and accusers prepared.

Tiberius.
But how? Let's consult.

SEJANUS.
We will waste
The time for action. Discussions are irrelevant
In matters where any delay is more harmful
Than reckless actions. Tasks like this
Succeed more through doing than through talking.
There is no lingering in a task once started,
Which cannot be praised until it’s completed.

TIBERIUS.
Our orders will immediately call for a court.
As long as I am alive, I will stop the wrath of the earth:
When I die, let the earth be mixed with fire.

[Log out.]

Enter Julius Posthumus.

POSTHUMOUS.
My lord Sejanus—

SEJANUS.
Julius Posthumus!
Come with my request! What news from Agrippina’s?

POSTHUMUS.
Honestly, none. They all shut themselves in late,
Or act like they’re someone else; I haven't seen
A group so different. Unless they've had
Some inside info from our activities.—

SEJANUS.
When were you there?

POSTHUMOUS.
Last night.

SEJANUS.
And what guests discovered you?

POSTHUMUS.
Sabinus, Silius, the old list, Arruntius, Furmus, and Gallus.

SEJANUS.
Wouldn't these talk?

POSTHUMUS.
Little:
And still, we presented an option for discussion. Satrius was with me.

SEJANUS.
Well: it's guilty enough
That they meet so often. Did you forget to praise
The welcoming lady?

POSTHUMUS.
No; that trick
Was really clever, and it would have worked,
But Sabinus coughed out a warning;
Because she started to show.

SEJANUS.
And may she explode!
Julius, I need you to go right away
To the palace of the great Augusta,
And, through your closest friend, get in quickly;
Inform her about these meetings: tell her the things
You shared with me the other day about Silius,
Add a bit more to it. Make sure she understands
The threat from Sabinus and the current situation,
Because of his secrecy. Share Arruntius’ remarks
Of malice against Cæsar; also with Gallus:
But most importantly, with Agrippina. Say,
As you may honestly, that her enormous pride,
Bolstered by the hopes of her too fruitful womb,
With popular ambitions, is eyeing the throne,
And poses a threat to Cæsar. Ask Augusta then,
That for her own sake, great Cæsar’s, and the public
safety, she please highlight these dangers.
Cæsar is too complacent; he needs to be informed,
And he’ll take it best from a mother’s voice.
Alas! what good is it for us to watch, to investigate,
To oppose, scheme, plot, or prevent,
If the very person for whom it is so desperately pursued,
Is, out of his greatness and free spirit,
Blissfully negligent? our city is now
Divided like during the civil war,
And people are not holding back in declaring
Themselves supporters of Agrippina. Every day
The faction grows; and will continue to grow,
If not challenged: you can best expand it,
As you see fit. Noble Posthumus,
Send my regards to your Prisca: and please ask her,
To push this important matter,
To earnest and immediate action,
With all her influence with Augusta.

POSTHUMUS.
I will not fail to follow my instructions.

[Leave.]

SEJANUS.
This second, from his mother, will really push
Our recent plan and fuel Cæsar’s anger;
Which otherwise might start to fade. The way to get
A ruler in a violent mood is to present threats
That are worse than they actually are, like recent,
Or distant shadows; and sometimes, to pretend
There are dangers that aren’t there, just to make him scared?
His fear will make him ruthless: and once he starts,
He doesn’t easily learn to hold back or spare
When he feels uncertain. This I’ve made my strategy,
To drive Tiberius into tyranny,
And make him work hard to sidestep those obstacles,
Which I alone couldn’t remove safely,
Once Drusus is gone, Germanicus’ three sons
Would block my path; their guards are too loyal
To be easily bribed: and their mother is known
For being too, too virtuous,
To be approached, like the loose Livia was.
So let my skills work on Cæsar’s fears, as they
Do on those they intimidate until all my hurdles are cleared,
And he, amid the ruins of his house and the hatred
Of all his subjects, buries his own power;
When, with my safety intact, I will rise,
By making him the public sacrifice.

[Log out.]

Enter Satrius and Natta.

SATRIUS.
They've become really cautious and careful.

NATTA.
They're onto us: and yet Arruntius
Can't hold himself back.

SATRIUS.
Nah, he's not taken care of yet; there are others who are more sought after
and who keep things low-key.

NATTA.
Here he comes. Go.

[Exit.]

Enter Sabinus, Arruntius, and Cordus.

SABINUS.
Why do these pesky hounds keep stalking Agrippina's house?

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh, they’re hunting, they’re hunting!
There’s some prey hidden here that they have to flush out,
To entertain the powerful.

CORDUS.
Did you see
How they attacked Caesar?

ARRUNTIUS.
Yeah, bait, bait,
For us to go after: I’d rather have my flesh
Torn by the public hook than have these so-called executioners
As my company.

CORDUS.
Here comes another one.

Domitius Afer walks across the stage.

ARRUNTIUS.
Yeah, there’s a guy, Afer the speaker!
He has phrases, figures, and fancy flourishes
To embellish his rhetoric, and he rushes,
To make a name for himself by any means
Where blood or profit are involved; he soaks his words,
When he wants to hurt, in fake tears:
The crocodile of the Tiber! I admire him,
That man has my heart and my voice
When I want to curse! He, he.

SABINUS.
Despise the slaves,
Their current lives will become their future graves.

[Exit.]

Enter Silius, Agrippina, Nero and Sosia.

SILIUS.
Please, your highness, don’t forget yourself;
I can’t, with my manners, bother you any further.

AGRIPPINA.
Goodbye, noble Silius!

SILIUS.
Most royal princess.

AGRIPPINA.
Is Sosia staying with us?

SILIUS.
She is your servant and owes you a sincere, but unrequited love.

AGRIPPINA.
How can that be, when there’s no reward except for virtue?

SILIUS.
You're focusing on the moral aspect, not the political one.
What I meant is, since she’s bold and speaks her mind,
Eager to express what her passionate thoughts
Struggle with, in honor of your family;
This action, being genuine to her,
Involves love and honesty; but it might,
Through frequent and reckless use,
Lead to your loss and danger: because your position
Is watched by jealousy, just like by eyes;
And every second guest at your table
Is a paid spy, observing who comes and goes;
What conversations you have, with whom, where, when.
They extract what is said, the looks, the thoughts
Of everyone present, and turn it into information.

AGRIPPINA.
Listen to me, Silius.
If Tiberius' body were covered in eyes,
And every wall and decoration in my house
Were as clear as this fabric I wear, or the air;
Even if Sejanus had ears as long
As to hear my deepest secrets, I would detest
Whispering any thought, or changing my actions,
To become Juno’s rival. True virtue
Always shines brightest through visible deeds.

SILIUS.
That’s powerful and boldly said, just like Agrippina’s spirit. But, your highness knows, there’s no loss or shame in fate; not many can truly be cautious enough about what everyone should. You can see how eagerly Satrius, Natta, Afer, and the others visit your home lately, trying to uncover secrets. And notice how brazenly they speak out against Augusta, and even Tiberius; they gossip about Livia and Sejanus, all to stir up your anger, so they can hear it more freely.

AGRIPPINA.
You're too paranoid, Silius.

SILIUS.
I hope the gods hear me,
I wish I were, Agrippina; but I’m worried
About some hidden scheme. Those who dare to attack
A life so exemplary and faultless,
Like that of the famous Germanicus,
Won't just stop with that one act:
He poses a threat to many who have wronged one.

NERO.
It would be better to rip out their tongues and burn their eyes.
The next time they show up.

SOSIA.
A perfect reward for spies.

Enter Drusus junior.

DRUSUS JUNIOR.
Have you heard the rumor?

AGRIPPINA.
What’s up?

DRUSUS JUNIOR.
Drusus is dying.

AGRIPPINA.
On her deathbed!

NERO.
That's weird!

AGRIPPINA.
You were with him last night.

DRUSUS JUNIOR.
One met Eudemus the doctor,
Sent for just now; who believes he can't survive.

SILIUS.
He thinks! If it has come to that, he knows,
Or not at all.

AGRIPPINA.
It's urgent! What could be his illness?

SILIUS.
Toxic, toxic-

AGRIPPINA.
What's up, Silius!

NERO.
What is that?

SILIUS.
No, nothing. There was recently a blow
to the face.

NERO.
Yeah, to Sejanus.

SILIUS.
True!

DRUSUS JUNIOR.
And what about that?

SILIUS.
I’m glad I didn’t give it.

NERO.
But is there something else?

SILIUS.
Yeah, private meetings,
With an important lady [sir], at a doctor's,
And a wife sent away.

NERO.
Haha!

SILIUS.
Toys, just toys:
What wisdom is out there on the streets, in everyone's chatter?

DRUSUS JUNIOR.
Fears, whispers, chaos, noise,
I don’t know what: They say the Senate is meeting.

SILIUS.
I’m going there right away;
And check out what’s in the forge.

AGRIPPINA.
Alright, Silius, let's go in. Sosia and I will join you.

SILIUS.
Hurry up, my lords, I
Have to visit the sick prince; show your love,
And share your sorrows with the people. This Sejanus,
Believe me, has schemes against everyone:
Every tree that blocks his view must come down.

Exeunt.

Enter Proclaimers, Lictors, Sejanus, Varro, Latiaris, Cotta and After.

SEJANUS.
You just need to push back against him, Varro;
Neither I nor Caesar can show up there,
Except to defend you, since you're the consul;
And because of the recent rivalry
Between your father and his, you can do it better,
As you won’t raise any suspicion of collusion.
Here are your notes on what to address; read them:
Be clever about it. Afer has them too.

VARRO.
But is he summoned?

SEJANUS.
No. It was discussed
By Caesar, and the decision was made as most appropriate
To catch him off guard.

AFER.
And prosecute
All under the name of treason.

Got it.

Enter Sabinus, Gallus, Lepidus and Arruntius.

SABINUS.
With Drusus dead, Cæsar won't be here.

GALLUS.
What should this senate focus on?

ARRUNTIUS.
That’s something my clever whisperers can explain: we
Who are the good, boring, noble spectators,
Are only here to keep the marble warm.
What should we do with these deep mysteries,
Fitting for these smart minds? Just leave them be.
Our ignorance might actually help save us
From punishment and chaos.

GALLUS.
Look, look, look at them!

ARRUNTIUS.
Yeah, now their minds are busy, now they’re at it;
Their faces are sweating; they’re weaving
Some intricate web to catch flies.

SABINUS.
Look,
They’re taking their places.

ARRUNTIUS.
What, so low!

GALLUS.
Oh yes,
They have to be seen to show sympathy for Cæsar’s sorrow,
Even if it's just by sitting.

VARRO.
Tell us to be quiet.

ANNOUNCERS.
Quiet!

VARRO.
Consul fathers, I hope this meeting today,
Turns out well and brings good fortune to our country!

Enter Silius and other Senators.

SEJANUS.
Look, Silius enters.

SILIUS.
Greetings, esteemed elders!

LICTORES.
Stand.
Silius, hold your ground.

SENATORS.
Wow!

PRÆCONES.
Silius, step forward,
The consul has a task for you.

Censors.
Room for Caesar.

ARRUNTIUS.
Has he arrived too? Well, then expect a trick.

SABINUS.
Silius has been accused! I'm sure he will respond with honor.

Enter Tiberius, accompanied.

TIBERIUS.
We stand in shock, fathers, to see
This general sadness. Why do Rome’s consuls sit
Here so defeated, as if they've lost
All memory of style and place
That isn’t suitable? No troubles are heavy enough
To make the honor of the empire bow down:
Though I, personally, might deserve
Some criticism for so quickly,
And in the midst of such fresh grief, addressing the senate,
When comforting words from family and friends,
Reluctantly accepted, are hard to hear,
The faces of men unseen, and barely the day,
To thousands who share our loss.
I can't say these are signs of weakness; since
They’re just reacting naturally; yet I must seek
Stronger support, and draw out those fair helps
From the warm embrace of the commonwealth.
Our mother, great Augusta, is aging,
We ourselves marked by the signs of time,
Drusus is gone, his children young and helpless;
Our focus must now turn to those who may
Provide timely support for these current troubles,
And are our only surviving hopes,
The noble offspring of Germanicus,
Nero and Drusus: may it please the consul
To honor them, they are both waiting outside.
I would present them to the senate’s care,
And raise those suns of joy that should soak up
These floods of sorrow in your tear-filled eyes.

ARRUNTIUS.
By Jupiter, I’m not clever enough
To figure out this riddle.

SABINUS.
The princes are here.

Enter Nero and Drusus Jr..

TIBERIUS.
Step forward, noble Nero, noble Drusus.
When their parent passed away, I entrusted these princes to their uncle, asking that,
Even though he has his own children,
He would still raise and care for them,
Just as he would for his own blood; and by doing so, confirm
Their value to him and future generations.
With Drusus gone, I turn my requests to you,
And before our nation and our gods, I urge
You to take care of Augustus' nephews,
Descended from the noblest ancestors; and in doing so,
Fulfill both my duty and your own,
Nero and Drusus, these boys will be to you
Like parents, these your fathers; and fittingly so:
For your fate, whether good or bad, is tied to that of the commonwealth.
Embrace them, strong guardians; and blessed gods,
May all their actions reflect their noble lineage:
Let their esteemed titles grow because of them,
Not the other way around. Place them as leaders,
So they set an example above all the Romans:
And may they know no rivals other than themselves.
Let Fortune offer them nothing; instead,
Let it focus on their virtue: and may that always emerge
Greater than their hopes and better than their fame.
Assist me, fathers, with your united approval.

SENATORS.
May all the gods agree with Cæsar’s wish,
And add to any honors that may come
From the promising future of Germanicus!

TIBERIUS.
We appreciate you, respected fathers, on their behalf.

ARRUNTIUS.
If this were true now! But the gap, the gap
Between the heart and the lips—Tiberius’ heart
Holds a thought deeper than anyone else's. [Aside.]

TIBERIUS.
My happiness is overflowing,
So much so that all my grief is washed away,
Like freshwater in the ocean,
Or rain in rivers; even though the reasons for my sorrow
Could have made the gods themselves cry:
Still, since the greater holds the lesser,
We eagerly comply.

ARRUNTIUS.
Well done, Caesar. [Aside.]

TIBERIUS.
And now I am happily witnessing
Your much-longed-for feelings
Regarding this great matter. I wish that the
Fates would put a peaceful end to my days here;
However, for my efforts, I ask
And plead with this senate for some appropriate rest.

ARRUNTIUS.
Laugh, dads, laugh: don’t you have any feelings at all?
[Aside.]

TIBERIUS.
The weight is too much for me to bear
On my unwilling shoulders; and I hope
It can be lifted off and given back
To the consuls, or another Roman,
One more capable and deserving.

ARRUNTIUS.
Keep laughing. [Aside.]

SABINUS.
Why does this make everyone else suspicious!

GALLUS.
It poisons everything.

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh, do you taste it now?

SABINUS.
It makes me lose my faith in anything,
He will speak from now on.

ARRUNTIUS.
Yes, to wish that,
Which would make his mind as hot as thunder,
Against which he wears that charm if the court
Takes him at his word.

GALLUS.
Listen up!

TIBERIUS.
For me
I recognize my weakness, and I don't desire much,
Like something that's long gone, the burden that will weigh me down,
As my ambition is the opposite.

ARRUNTIUS.
Well-kept; still good!

SEJANUS.
But Rome, whose essence,
Whose energy, whose life, whose very structure depends
On Cæsar’s power, just like heaven relies on Atlas,
Cannot accept it without widespread disaster.

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh! Are you here to help him out? [Aside.]

SEJANUS.
Let Caesar
No longer press a point so opposed
To Caesar’s greatness, the distressed senate’s vows,
Or Rome’s needs.

GALLUS.
He's around—

ARRUNTIUS.
More agile than Vertumnus.

TIBERIUS.
For the public,
I might be expected to show that I can overlook
All personal ambitions, even though I value my peace;
But if the senate still demands my service,
I have to willingly fulfill my duty.

ARRUNTIUS.
You have to, sir. We know it. [Aside.]

SENATORS.
Caesar,
Live long and happily, great and noble Caesar;
May the gods protect you and your humility,
Your wisdom and your integrity.

ARRUNTIUS.
Where is it?
The prayer is said in front of the subject. [Aside.]

SENATORS.
Guard
His humility, Jove; his devotion, his concern,
His generosity—

ARRUNTIUS.
And his cleverness, I’ll mention:
But he’ll hold on to that, without the gods.
All prayers are useless for him. [Aside.]

TIBERIUS.
We won’t keep you waiting, fathers, with a long response; instead,
We’ll strive to be what you want,
And do our best to meet such a great expectation.
Go ahead with your matters.

ARRUNTIUS.
Now, Silius, watch out;
The curtain’s coming down. Afer is approaching. [Aside.]

Announcers.
Quiet!

AFER.
Cite Caius Silius.

Criers.
Caius Silius!

SILIUS.
Here.

AFER.
The victory you had in Germany
For your recent win over Sacrovir,
You enjoyed so openly, Caius Silius,
That no one envied you; nor would Caesar,
Or Rome, accept that you were then deprived
Of any honors your achievements deserved,
In the noble service of the republic:
But now, if, after all their affection and favors,
(Your actions and their outcomes being revealed)
It becomes clear to Caesar and this senate,
That you have tarnished those glories with your crimes—

Crimes!

AFER.
Hold on, Silius.

SILIUS.
Tell your mule to be patient;
I am a Roman. What are my crimes? Just say them.
Am I too wealthy or too honest for this time?
Do I have treasure, jewels, land, or houses
That some informant is greedy for? Is my strength
Too much to be accepted, or is my knowledge?
These are now considered crimes.

AFER.
No, Silius, if the name
Of crime affects you so deeply, with what helplessness
Will you let the matter be investigated?

SILIUS.
I’m telling you, Afer, with more disdain than fear:
Use your hired words and skill.
Where’s my accuser?

VARRO.
Here.

ARRUNTIUS.
Varro, the consul!
Is he in trouble? [Aside.]

VARRO.
I accuse you, Silius.
You are guilty against the glory of Rome and Caesar.
I declare you a criminal here,
First for instigating and causing,
Then for prolonging the war in Gaul,
For which you recently celebrated a triumph; pretending for so long
That Sacrovir was an enemy,
Just to make your own situation better.
While you and your wife Sosia exploited the province:
With your greedy, selfish desire for profit,
You have undermined the value of your actions,
And been a traitor to the state.

SILIUS.
You're lying.

ARRUNTIUS.
Thank you, Silius, for speaking so calmly and frequently.

VARRO.
If I can't prove it, Cæsar, then I've wrongfully
Called him to trial; here I commit
Myself to face the consequences of my claims;
And I agree to have what I said confirmed
By the judgment of the court and all decent people.

SILIUS.
Caesar, I ask to postpone my case
Until this man’s consulship is over.

TIBERIUS.
We can't,
And we shouldn't agree to it.

SILIUS.
Why? Is he going to plan
My day of judgment? Is he my accuser,
And does he have to be my judge?

TIBERIUS.
It has been customary,
And it's a right that tradition has granted
The magistrate to summon private citizens;
And to set their day: which privilege
We cannot allow to be violated by the consul,
Whose diligent vigilance and hard work
Ensure that the commonwealth
Does not suffer any harm from any shady dealings.

SILIUS.
Caesar, your deceit is worse than violence.

TIBERIUS.
Silius, don't get us wrong, we can't use
The consul's reputation for your benefit;
But only to protect his position and authority,
As it relates to the dignity
And honor of the state.

ARRUNTIUS.
Trust him, Silius.

COTTA.
Why, of course, Arruntius.

ARRUNTIUS.
I agree.
And he can choose as well.

TIBERIUS.
By the Capitol,
And all our gods, but for the sake of the dear republic,
Our sacred laws, and rightful authority
Are involved in this, I would remain silent.

AFER.
Please, Caesar, allow him to have his trial,
He will receive justice.

SILIUS.
No, I want justice;
Will I not, Afer? Speak up.

AFER.
Would you like more?

SILIUS.
No, my articulate friend, I wouldn't do it anymore;
Nor would I do less: if I could experience it naturally,
Not manipulated to serve your current purposes,
Free from your, his, and all your unfair treatment,
Angry pressure, completely unreasonable assumptions,
Malicious, and numerous misinterpretations,
Twisted, and impossible misrepresentations.

AFER.
He's raving, he's raving.

SILIUS.
You wouldn't dare say that to me,
If you didn't have Caesar’s approval. I can see
Who has the power to condemn me.

VARRO.
This shows his true nature:
This clearly reveals what he is.

SILIUS.
What am I? Speak up.

VARRO.
A threat to the state.

SILIUS.
Because I am your enemy,
And those corrupt officials in the government,
Who have turned you into a tool
To fulfill their desires at your own expense.

SEJANUS.
This is incredibly disrespectful to the consul,
And immoral.

SILIUS.
Yeah, join in. Show yourselves,
Oh no! I can't figure out your alliances,
Your schemes and plans! I don’t know
That Sejanus, my rival, hates me: and that all,
This talk of law and order is just a facade,
A trap designed by Vulcan, just a machine,
To take my life under the guise of justice,
While you pursue it out of spite! I lack the brains,
Or sense to convince me that your goals,
And intentions are what they seem,
Before I respond! O, you equal gods,
Whose justice a world full of deceitful men
Will not make me condemn, no matter how provoked;
Have I truly engaged myself for this?
Stood in the heat and intensity of a battle,
When the sun has left the day
Before I left the field, against the blue-eyed Gauls,
And fierce Germans? When our Roman eagles
Have stirred the flames with their laboring wings,
And not a blow struck, that didn’t leave death behind?
When I charged, alone, into the ranks
Of the curly-haired Sicambrians, defeated them, and came
Out not retreating like a slave;
But with visible marks, wounds on my chest and face,
Meant for you, O Caesar, and your Rome?
And this is the response I get! Did I do this,
To achieve such a noble and brave victory
Over Sacrovir! O Jupiter, should I boast of my deeds,
When the one they concern,
So easily forgets them?

AFER.
Silius, Silius,
These are the customs your blood follows,
When it’s high with wine, just like now with anger:
This fits well with that reckless boast,
You recently made at Agrippina’s table,
That, when all the other troops were ready
To revolt, only yours
Stayed loyal. You were the one
Who saved the empire, which would have been lost
If your legions had rebelled or mutinied;
Your courage faced and tackled every danger.
You provided Cæsar and Rome their security;
Their name, their strength, their spirit, and their state,
Their existence was a gift from you.

ARRUNTIUS.
Well said, and very much like a speaker.

TIBERIUS.
Is this real, Silius?

SILIUS.
Save your question, Caesar;
Your well-known spy has confirmed it.

ARRUNTIUS.
Great Roman!

SABINUS.
He answers firmly.

SEJANUS.
If that's the case, there doesn't need to be any other reason
For a crime against him.

VARRO.
What can undermine
The royal dignity and status of Cæsar,
More than being pressured with a favor He can't repay?

COTTA.
In this, all of Caesar’s wealth
Is overshadowed by the kindness.

LATIARIS.
His resources are completely gone that should repay.

GALLUS.
Nothing is too great for Silius’ talent.

ARRUNTIUS.
Gallus is over there too! [Aside.]

SILIUS.
Come on, stop hunting,
And stressing over details,
To make him guilty whom you've already condemned:
Take a quicker route, I'll help you with your goals.
The words were mine, and I have more to say:
Since I've done you this great service, Caesar,
You've always feared me; and instead of gratitude,
You've returned hatred: so easily, the best deeds,
With uncertain leaders, turn into deep wounds
In reputation, especially when they become
Bigger than can be dealt with. Benefits, for you,
Are only enjoyable as long as you can
Easily repay them; once gone beyond,
Your focus isn't on how to thank, but how to eliminate.
It's your nature to have everyone be your slaves,
But you acknowledge none.
The means that create your greatness shouldn't be
Mentioned; if they are, you feel it takes
Away too much, you think: and what helped,
Will fade the quickest if it stands in sight,
Where it can confront, or just remind the powerful.

COTTA.
Let him speak no more.

VARRO.
Just note his spirit.

AFER.
This shows him relaxed.

LATIARIS.
Let him face consequences.

SEJANUS.
He has said enough to show he’s an enemy of Caesar.

COTTA.
His thoughts shine through his words.

SEJANUS.
A criticism.

SILIUS.
Wait,
Wait, you overly eager senate, I’ll quickly
Calm your anger. Silius hasn’t positioned
His guards against fate so poorly that he can’t
Escape your grasp that are merely the hands of fate: she herself,
When virtue stands against her, has to back down!
Everything that can happen to a person,
The scorn of Caesar, the prideful hatred of Sejanus,
Base Varro’s spite, and Afer’s bloody words,
The senate’s submissive flattery, all these
Gathered to kill, I am ready for;
And can look down on: they are beneath me.
I do not long for this life;
Nor will my end make me blame my fate.
The coward and the brave man will fall,
Only the reason and way they fall, distinguishes them:
The ones who are happiest are often those who pay the highest price.
Romans, if any of you here in this senate,
Want to mock Tiberius’ tyranny,
Look at Silius, and learn how to die.

[Stabs himself.]

VARRO.
Oh, desperate move!

ARRUNTIUS.
A noble gesture!

TIBERIUS.
Look, is he gone?

SABINUS.
That was a noble hit, and home.

ARRUNTIUS.
My mind led him to it. Goodbye. Silius.
May you always be known for your great example.

TIBERIUS.
We are not happy about this unfortunate event,
That has stalled and misused our mercy,
Meant to protect you, noble Roman,
And to crush your hopes.

ARRUNTIUS.
Great wolf!
Now that he's full, he howls. [Aside.]

SEJANUS.
Caesar is mistaken
To grieve for his own dignity and safety
Over the deserved fate of such an obvious traitor,
And by showing this leniency, he teaches
Others who are rebellious to commit similar offenses.

TIBERIUS.
Just taking his state would have been enough.

ARRUNTIUS.
Oh, was that what everyone was waiting for? [Aside.]

VARRO.
Remove the body.

SEJANUS.
Have someone call Sosia.

GALLUS.
Let her be banned:
And for the assets, I think it's right that half
Go to the treasury, half to the children.

LEPIDUS.
With Cæsar's permission, I think that a fourth,
As the law requires from the informers,
Should be sufficient; the rest goes to the children.
In this way, the prince will show compassion,
And generosity; not to push them by their needs,
Which they suffered for due to their parents' wrongs,
Into taking bad paths.

TIBERIUS.
We're okay with that.

ARRUNTIUS.
Yeah,
Out of necessity. This Lepidus
Is serious and trustworthy, and I have noticed
A calmness in all his judgments.

SABINUS.
And leaning in closer—Wait, who’s that?

Enter Satrius and Natta, with Cremutius Cordus under guard.

Cremutius Cordus! What! Is he brought in?

ARRUNTIUS.
More blood for the feast! Noble Cordus,
I wish you well: be as your writings, free,
And honest.

Tiberius. Who is he?

SEJANUS.
For the Records, Caesar.

Cremutius Cordus!

CORDUS.
Here.

PRÆCONES.
Satrius Secundus,
Pinnarius Natta, you are his accusers.

ARRUNTIUS.
Two of Sejanus’ attack dogs, which he raises
On human flesh, to bark at citizens.

AFER.
Step forward in front of the senate and face him.

SATRIUS.
I accuse you here, Cremutius Cordus,
Of being a divisive and dangerous person,
A spreader of unrest in the state,
A restless and disgruntled spirit,
And I will prove this from your own writings,
The Annals you’ve published; where you criticize
The current age, and with a viper’s bite,
Being a part of it, dare to commit the wrong
That no cowardly bastard has ever done
Against his own parent.

NATTA.
I agree with this;
And, in addition, there are many more details,
Let’s take just one example: when comparing people,
You praise Brutus and claim
That Cassius was the last of all the Romans.

COTTA.
How! What are we now?

VARRO.
What is Caesar? Nothing?

AFER.
My lords, this goes against every Roman’s integrity,
In whom noble lineage and spirit reside,
To have a Brutus compared to us,
A murderer, an enemy of his country,
Ranked and preferred over any true merit
That Rome currently possesses. This is incredibly harsh,
Full of malice and arrogant insults.
It's not just the timing that’s disrespected,
But the entire essence of the time, even Cæsar himself
Is undervalued; and he is most targeted,
By the sneaky attacks of his reckless pen.
Cæsar, if Cassius were the last of Romans,
You would have no reputation.

TIBERIUS.
Let’s hear his response. Silence!

CORDUS.
I’m so innocent of wrongdoing, my lords,
That only my words are being debated: yet those words
Haven’t reached either the prince or his parent:
Which your treason law includes.
I’ve been accused of praising Brutus and Cassius;
Whose actions, along with many others besides me,
Have been written about, and not one has been mentioned without respect.
Great Titus Livius, renowned for eloquence,
And trusted among us, in his history,
Gave such high praise to Pompey,
That Augustus often referred to him as a Pompeian:
Yet this didn’t damage their friendship. In his book,
He frequently names Scipio, Afranius,
Indeed, the same Cassius and this Brutus too,
As the most worthy men; not thieves and murderers,
Which stains have now been placed upon their reputations.
Asinius Pollio's writings throughout
Honor them; so does Messala,
Who praised his general Cassius: yet both of these
Lived alongside Augustus, full of wealth and honors,
To Cicero's book, where Cato was lifted up
Equal to the heavens, what else did Cæsar respond,
Being dictator then, but with a written speech,
As if before the judges? Just look at
Antonius’ letters; read Brutus’ arguments:
What vile accusations they make against Augustus,
False, I admit, but filled with bitterness.
The epigrams of Bibaculus and Catullus
Are filled with spite against both Cæsars;
Yet, deified Julius, and no less Augustus,
Both tolerated them and disregarded them: I don’t know,
To say it plainly, whether it was done with more
Restraint or wisdom; for such insults,
If they’re ignored, they fade away;
But if acknowledged with anger, they’re confirmed.
I skip over the Greeks, whose freedom not only,
But also their lewdness escaped punishment:
Or where someone, by chance, took exception,
He avenged himself with words. But, in my work,
What could be aimed more freely, or farther from
The controversies of the time, than to write of those,
Whom death has freed from either grace or hatred?
Did I, alongside Brutus and Cassius,
Armed and holding the Philippi fields,
Incite the people in the civil cause,
With dangerous speeches? Or do they, having been slain
Seventy years ago, as shown by their images,
Which the conqueror hasn’t destroyed, appear
To keep that guilty memory alive with writers?
Posterity pays every man his honor;
Nor shall there be a shortage, even though I am condemned,
Of someone who will not only approve of Cassius,
And keep great Brutus’ honor in mind,
But will also mention me.

ARRUNTIUS.
Well said!

SABINUS.
In a good mood;
I like him because he doesn’t let his emotions get the best of him.

ARRUNTIUS.
He has them speak quietly.

TIBERIUS.
Take him away;
We'll decide what to do about him at our next meeting.

[Officers exit with Cordus.]

COTTA.
In the meantime, order that his books be burned,
To the aediles.

SEJANUS.
You gave good advice.

AFER.
It's not right for such reckless things to live
And shame this era.

ARRUNTIUS.
If the times were better, they might.

LATIARIS.
Let them burn.

GALLUS.
All searched, and burned today.

PRÆCONES.
The court is in session; lictors, pick up the fasces.

[Everyone exits except Arruntius, Sabinus and Lepidus.]

ARRUNTIUS.
Let them burn! Oh, how absurd
The senate's mindless efforts look,
Thinking they can, with their current power, erase
The memory of all future times!

SABINUS.
It’s true; when the punishment
Of wit increases authority.
Those who use this cruelty
Of prohibition and this fury of burning,
Only bring upon themselves rebuke and shame,
And give the writers an eternal legacy.

LEPIDUS.
It's a tough time right now,
When you can't safely promote goodness;
And you can't call out wrongdoing.

ARRUNTIUS.
Yes, noble Lepidus;
Augustus saw clearly what we would endure
Under Tiberius, when he declared
The Roman people the most unfortunate, to live
Between such slow jaws and such a long suffering.

[Exit.]

Enter Tiberius and Sejanus.

TIBERIUS.
This plan has worked out well, Sejanus,
And has completely taken away any jealousy
Against Agrippina and our nephews. Now,
We need to think about how to set our strategy,
For the other two, Sabinus and Arruntius,
And Gallus as well: no matter how much he flatters us,
We know his true feelings.

SEJANUS.
Give it a break, Caesar.
Time will develop and bring to a perfect conclusion,
What we, with such good intentions, have started:
Sabinus will be next.

TIBERIUS.
More like Arruntius.

SEJANUS.
By any means, keep him safe. His honest words
If given the chance, would eliminate any thoughts
Of wrongdoing in your actions against others:
We need to keep him around to support us.

TIBERIUS.
Dear friend,
I give it to your most fortunate plan.

SEJANUS.
Sir,—I have been trained in grace for so long,
First with your father, the great Augustus; then,
With your generous gifts so well-known
That I would sooner share my hopes
Or wishes with you than with the gods.
I have never been greedy
For shining and dazzling honor; instead,
I prefer to focus on ensuring great Caesar’s safety,
Alongside the common soldier.

TIBERIUS.
It's confessed.

SEJANUS.
The only gain I truly value
From all my fortunes is that mighty Caesar
Has considered me worthy of his alliance. That's where
My hopes begin.

Tiberius.
Ugh!

SEJANUS.
I’ve heard, Augustus,
When thinking about arranging a marriage for his daughter, he considered
Even the gentlemen of Rome: if that’s true,—
I don’t know how to hope for such a big favor—
But if a husband is to be found for Livia,
And I’m the one he has in mind, as Cæsar’s friend,
I would just use the honor of the family:
It shouldn’t make me lazy, or less dedicated
To Cæsar’s affairs: it would be enough for me
If it would confirm and strengthen my weak household,
Against the current unfair opposition
From Agrippina; and for the sake of my children,
This is my wish: I have no further ambition than to spend
My days serving such a dear master.

TIBERIUS.
We can’t help but praise your devotion,
Most beloved Sejanus, for recognizing
Those gifts that we vaguely recall—
But let’s focus on your request. The rest of humanity,
In all their ambitions and plans, seek profit;
Only princes are different,
Focusing their main actions on legacy:
So we will take time to consider and respond.
As for Livia, she can best decide
If she will marry again after Drusus, or
Stay with the family; besides,
She still has a mother and a grandmother,
Whose close advice she can follow:
But I’ll be straightforward. That animosity
You fear from Agrippina would only worsen,
If Livia’s marriage were to, in a sense,
Split the imperial family; a rivalry
Between the women could emerge; and conflict
Could ruin the sons and nephews on both sides.
What if it causes some immediate issues?
You are not safe, Sejanus, if that happens.
Can you believe that Livia, first the wife
Of Caius Caesar, then my Drusus, now
Would be satisfied growing old with you,
Born merely a private citizen of Rome,
And elevate you at her expense, if not her disgrace?
Or suppose I wanted it, can you imagine
The senate, or the people (who have seen
Her brother, father, and our ancestors,
In the highest positions of power) will accept it!
The position you hold is already under scrutiny;
People whisper about your rise; and the nobility!
Do not hesitate, in public, to criticize your ascent
Above our father’s favors, or your advancement:
And dare accuse me, due to their hatred of you.
Be wise, dear friend. We wouldn’t conceal these matters,
Out of respect for our friendship: Nor will we oppose
Your plans, or Livia’s.
What we intended to share with you,
And the strong bonds of affection we have for you,
And making you our equal; for now,
We will hold off on discussing that. Just know this,
Our dear Sejanus, we do not recognize
Any height in lineage or honor that your talent
And character cannot reach with merit.
And we will declare this on every suitable occasion
When the senate or the people are gathered.

SEJANUS.
I’m back to my senses now,
Which I had lost in this blinding situation.
Cæsar has shown me how to decline better,
Than I ever knew how to ask. How does Cæsar
Feel about taking my recent advice to leave Rome?

TIBERIUS.
We're determined.

SEJANUS.
Here are some more motives,

Hands him a paper.

Which I've thought about since, may confirm even more.

TIBERIUS.
Be careful, Sejanus! We will examine them right away:
Let’s move ahead with our main plan and succeed.

[Log out.]

SEJANUS.
If they just take it, I will. Dull, heavy Caesar!
Would you tell me that your favors have become crimes,
And that my fortunes are seen as your faults,
That you are hated for my sake, and not think
I would rush to prevent that change,
When you could win everything back to yourself,
By sacrificing me! Did those foolish words
Fly faster from your lips than my mind,
This sparkling forge that created me armor
To face both chance and you? Well, read my charms,
And may they take hold of your senses,
As if you’ve inhaled hemlock or taken down
The juice of poppy and mandrakes. Sleep,
Pleasure-seeking Caesar, and let security
Seize your dull powers and leave them lifeless
To public worries; awake only to your desires,
The force of which makes your indulgent soul
Yearn to leave Rome! and I have pushed that urge on;
With complaints about city affairs,
The multitude of cases, the crowd
Of petitioners; then their relentless demands,
The countless distractions he must endure,
Plus bad rumors, jealousies, and reproaches,
All of which a quiet and relaxed life,
Filled with ease and pleasure, successfully avoids:
And yet, for any serious and significant matter,
The best place to give the wisest advice.
With this, I will remove him both from thought
And awareness of his own dearest matters;
Redirect all decisions through my private hands;
Know his plans and pursue my own;
Build my own power by granting favors and positions.
Bestowing honors and offices;
And those who hate me now, lacking access
To him, will lessen or eliminate their envy:
For when they see me as the judge of all,
They must pay attention; or else, fall with Caesar.

[Log out.]

Enter Tiberius.

TIBERIUS.
To marry Livia! Does that satisfy your goal, Sejanus?
Is there nothing less you aim for? Alright!
You know how much we trust you;
You’re part of our plan; and you think we have to
Use you for whatever your schemes are:
That’s true. But we need to be careful and prudent.
And now that we’re thinking more clearly—who’s inside?

Enter an Officer.

OFFICER.
Caesar!

TIBERIUS.
Leaving our journey unfinished would be a sin against our planned pleasures; it would show doubt or, worse for a prince, fear. But doubt has its reasons, and fears can be justified. When the matters of princes call for it, as ours does now—more because of Sejanus’ arrogance than from all of Agrippina’s resentment combined. Those are the terrible enemies we create with our favors, and we make them dangerous through our praise. Those we’ve wronged might have the intent for revenge, but it’s the favorite who has the real power to act. And anger usually boils hotter and stronger, fueled by ambition, than by a desire for revenge. So it’s crucial to be skilled in not overly favoring anyone; maintain some distance between their rise and your own level, so that when they reach the top, their goal isn’t to surpass you. That’s the idea. Aside
Is Macro in the palace? Check: If not, go find him and bring him to us.—

[Exit Officer.]

He has to be the tool we work with now;
Though no one is less trustworthy: need allows
What choice wouldn't. I've heard that aconite,
Taken at the right time, has a healing power
Against a scorpion's sting: we'll prove it:
That, while two poisons fight, we can survive.
He has a spirit too active to be used
Except against his own kind; wiser rulers are
Excused then, for unleashing one evil
Against another, and both can kill safely:
The prince that feeds powerful beings, they'll take him down;
Whoever raises a lion must obey him.—

Re-enter Officer with Macro.

Macro, we called for you.

MACRO.
I heard that, Cæsar.

TIBERIUS.
Give us a moment.—

[Exit Officer.]

When you understand, good Macro,
The reasons for our sending and the goals,
You will then listen more closely and be pleased
You are held in such high regard in our choice and trust.

MACRO.
The most modest place in Caesar’s choice or trust,
Can make proud Macro happy; without ambition.
Except to serve Caesar.

TIBERIUS.
Stop the flattery.
Macro, we intend to leave
The city for a while and visit Campania;
Not for our enjoyment, but to dedicate
Two temples, one to Jupiter
In Capua, and the other in Nola, to Augustus:
In this important task, we might end up
Staying longer than we planned... Now since we are
Well aware of the dangers that can arise
From our brief absence in a state
So prone to envy, filled with
Hate and division; we have considered you,
Among a group of Romans, the best choice, Macro,
To be our eyes and ears: to keep a close watch
On Agrippina, Nero, Drusus; yes,
And on Sejanus: not that we doubt
His loyalty, or regret any of the favors
We’ve given him;
To do so would undermine our choice,
And question the judgement that once
Seemed as undeniable as an oracle-
But, greatness has its flaws. Criticism and jealousies
Arise from excessive indulgence, in those
Who, after consuming, completely take
The essence of their creators into themselves.
Macro is clever and perceptive; besides,
I know him to be subtle, discreet, wise, and well-informed
About people and their complex natures; he has studied
Emotions, desires, knows their sources and outcomes,
How and when they will act: it’s clear
That we have good reason to trust him.
So to the point, since our discussion
Can’t be lengthy without raising suspicions—
Here, Macro, we assign you, both to spy,
Gather information, and take action; think, and use your resources,
Your methods, whatever, wherever, on whomever you need;
Investigate, plot, practice: everything you do in this
Will be as if the Senate, or the laws
Had given it approval, and you thereby named
The savior of both Cæsar and Rome.
We won’t accept your response unless it’s in action:
As you proceed, we hope to hear
From trusted messengers. If someone asks,
Why we called you, say you have the task
Of ensuring our chariots are ready, and our horses.—
Remain our beloved and soon-to-be respected Macro.

[Leave.]

MACRO.
I won't question why Caesar wants this done;
I'm just glad that he wants me to do it. It's a privilege
To be employed in the courts, no matter the task;
The power of a prince turns all his actions into virtue.
We, who carry out his will, are silent tools,
Tasked to act, not to ask why: his grand designs
Are to be fulfilled, not questioned. Yet, just like the bow
Is most effective when its owner knows best
How to achieve his goals; so let that politician hope
To be most useful and valuable in hitting his prince’s mark.
He shouldn’t focus on who or what to target,
But fire away at all; every target should be the same.
If it meant plotting against the reputation, the life
Of someone I’m close to; removing a wife
From my side, as cherished as the very air;
Manipulating each parent; ensnaring my heir
In a trap, even if it’s just one; turning all my family
Toward swift destruction; leaving no untrained weapon,
For friendship, or for innocence; indeed, make
The gods culpable too; I'd take on
This task, imposed upon me, with both profit and ease:
The way to rise is to obey and please.
He who wants to succeed in politics must ignore
The well-worn paths that respect truth and right;
And explore new, wilder options: for virtue there
Isn't the narrow thing people think it is; it's elsewhere;
There, a man's fortune is virtue; his reason his will;
Their freedom, law; and their observance, skill.
Opportunity is their advantage; conscience, their flaw;
Profit is their glory; and everything else is empty.
If it is Caesar’s desire
To have raised Sejanus high, only to
Overthrow him in an instant, bringing him crashing down,
We are his willing tool: and his fall
May be our rise. It’s not uncommon
To see new buildings rise from old ruins.

[Leave.]

Enter Gallus and Agrippina.

GALLUS.
You need to be patient, Queen Agrippina.

AGRIPPINA.
I need revenge first; that would be like nectar
to my starving spirit. Oh, my fate,
let it be sudden what you’re preparing for me;
strike all my powers of understanding blind.
And keep me unaware of the destiny ahead!
Let me not fear what I cannot hope for.

GALLUS.
Dear princess,
These actions against you are worse than Cæsar’s.

AGRIPPINA.
Is this the happiness of being born great?
Still something to strive for? still something to be wary of?
To live under constant jealousy?
At least the illusion created, if not the reality
To every imagined danger? who wouldn’t
Prefer to fall once than to hang in uncertainty forever?

GALLUS.
You might be safe if you could—

AGRIPPINA.
What’s up, my Gallus?
Am I just going to be Sejanus’ mistress or the facilitator
Of Cæsar’s desires? He’s gone off to plot now?
None of them are safe when there’s nothing secure. You,
While you stand here with me, aren’t safe either.
Was Silius safe? Or the good Sosia safe?
Was my niece, dear Claudia Pulchra, safe,
Or innocent Furnius? They’re the ones who have
(Through their guilt) added to Afer’s reputation
As an orator. Oh, foolish friends,
Couldn’t such a recent example warn you
Of the risks; but no, you have to risk my favor
At your own expense; and when you should see
That Cæsar’s rage will turn against him,
Before he even wants it to! Come on, good Gallus, leave me.
Being seen here is dangerous; speaking is treason:
Even the slightest honor shown to me is called a rebellion.
You’re unlucky because of me, and I’m unlucky for all.
Where are my sons, Nero and Drusus? We
Are they being targeted; let’s stay apart;
Let’s not bury our friends in our downfall.
Or should we do something offensive,
To mock those who want to blame us,
And ruin their plans by getting ahead of them?
The danger’s the same: whatever they can plan,
They will make real. No innocence is safe,
When power is at stake: nor can they go further,
When their very existence has been a crime all along.