No, Silius, we are no good inginers. We want their fine arts, and their thriving use Should make us graced, or favour’d of the times: We have no shift of faces, no cleft tongues, No soft and glutinous bodies, that can stick, Like snails on painted walls; or, on our breasts, Creep up, to fall from that proud height, to which We did by slavery, not by service climb. We are no guilty men, and then no great; We have no place in court, office in state, That we can say, we owe unto our crimes: We burn with no black secrets, which can make Us dear to the pale authors; or live fear’d Of their still waking jealousies, to raise Ourselves a fortune, by subverting theirs. We stand not in the lines, that do advance To that so courted point. Enter Satrius and Natta, at a distance.

Sabinus Monologue from Sejanus His Fall

Rehearse Sabinus's monologue