Send him to me, I’ll work him.—Royal lady, Though I have loved you long, and with that height Of zeal and duty, like the fire, which more It mounts it trembles, thinking nought could add Unto the fervour which your eye had kindled; Yet, now I see your wisdom, judgment, strength, Quickness, and will, to apprehend the means To your own good and greatness, I protest Myself through rarified, and turn’d all flame In your affection: such a spirit as yours, Was not created for the idle second To a poor flash, as Drusus; but to shine Bright as the moon among the lesser lights, And share the sov’reignty of all the world. Then Livia triumphs in her proper sphere, When she and her Sejanus shall divide The name of Cæsar, and Augusta’ s star Be dimm’d with glory of a brighter beam: When Agrippina’s fires are quite extinct, And the scarce-soon Tiberius borrows all His little light from us, whose folded arms Shall make one perfect orb. Who’s that! Eudemus, Look. ’Tis not Drusus, lady, do not fear.

Sejanus Monologue from Sejanus His Fall

Rehearse Sejanus's monologue