And Nero is but Lucius in the wreck!
Nero
Croak on! Each croak’s a dagger in that neck,
You vulture with the hideous dripping beak,
The clutching tearing talons that now reek
With what dear sacred veins!
Anicetus
O Caesar, hear!
So keen the news I bear you, that I fear
To loose it like the arrow it must be.