I’ll ne’er believe, but Cæsar hath some scent Of bold Sejanus’ footing. These cross points Of varying letters, and opposing consuls, Mingling his honours and his punishments, Feigning now ill, now well, raising Sejanus, And then depressing him, as now of late In all reports we have it, cannot be Empty of practice: ’tis Tiberius’ art. For having found his favourite grown too great, And with his greatness strong; that all the soldiers Are, with their leaders, made a his devotion; That almost all the senate are his creatures, Or hold on him their main dependencies, Either for benefit, or hope, or fear; And that himself hath lost much of his own, By parting unto him; and, by th’ increase Of his rank lusts and rages, quite disarm’d Himself of love, or other public means, To dare an open contestation; His subtilty hath chose this doubling line, To hold him even in: not so to fear him, As wholly put him out, and yet give check Unto his farther boldness. In mean time, By his employments, makes him odious Unto the staggering rout, whose aid, in fine, He hopes to use, as sure, who, when they sway. Bear down, o’erturn all objects in their way.

Lepidus Monologue from Sejanus His Fall

Rehearse Lepidus's monologue