[Exeunt.

Wom.  Heaven, you will heare (that which the world doth scorn)
The prayers of misery and soules forlorne. 
Your anger waxeth by delaying stronger,
O now for mercy be despis’d no longer;
Let him that makes so many Mothers childlesse
Make his unhappy in her fruitfulnesse. 
Let him no issue leave to beare his name
Or sonne to right a Fathers wronged fame;
Our flames to quit be righteous in your yre,
And when he dies let him want funerall fire.

[Exeunt.

Nero.  Let Heaven do what it will, this I have done. 
Already doe you feel my furies waight: 
Rome is become a grave of her late greatnes;
Her clowdes of smoke have tane away the day,
Her flames the night. 
Now, unbeleaving Eyes, what crave you more?

Enter Neophilus to him.

Neoph.  O save your selfe, my Lord:  your Pallace burnes.

Nero.  My Pallace? how? what traiterous hand?

    Enter Tigellinus to them.

Tigell.  O flie, my Lord, and save your selfe betimes. 
The winde doth beate the fire upon your house,
The eating flame devoures your double gates;
Your pillars fall, your golden roofes doe melt;
Your antique Tables and Greeke Imagery
The fire besets; and the smoake, you see,
Doth choake my speech:  O flie and save your life.

Nero.  Heaven thou dost strive, I see, for victory.

[Exeunt.

(SCENE 5.)

Enter Nimphidius solus.

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

(SCENE 6.)

Enter Scevinus, Milichus.