[Exit Poppæa.
See how
’Tis private pleasure that she seeks, nought else:
And Seneca the same. That’s the true fire,
That burns unquenchable in all human hearts.
Let it rage, and consume the rotten timbers
Of old convention, the dry mouldering houses
Of sad philosophy, that in their stead
I may build up the free and ample structure
Of modern wisdom. Ay, and let Rome burn.