[Exeunt.
Manet Nero.
Nero. They hate me cause I would but live. What was't
You lov'd, kind friends, and came to see my death?
Let me endure all torture and reproach
That earth or Galbaes anger can inflict;
Yet hell and Rodamanth are more pittilesse.
The first Romane to him.
Rom. Though not deserv'd, yet once agen I come
To warne thee to take pitie on thy selfe.
The troopes by the Senate sent descend the hill
And come.
Nero. To take me and to whip me unto death! O whither shall I flye?
Rom. Thou hast no choice.
Nero. O hither must I flye: hard is his happe
Who from death onely must by death escape.
Where are they yet? O may not I a little
Bethinke my selfe?
Rom. They are at hand; harke, thou maist heare the noise.
Nero. O Rome, farewell! farewell, you Theaters Where I so oft with popular applause In song and action—O they come, I die. (He falls on his sword.)