Of ease and luxury, 'midst fortune's joys,
Is fostered. But it sickens straight and dies
When you no longer feed and fondle it.565
Nero: I deem the primal source of life is this,
The joy of love; and it can never die,
Since by sweet love, which soothes e'en savage breasts,
The human race is evermore renewed.
This god shall bear for me the wedding torch,570
And join me with Poppaea in his bonds.
Seneca: The people's grief could scarce endure to see