Nay, while I live! The sight! A burning world! And to be dead and miss it! There's an end Of all satiety: such fire imagine! Born in some obscure alley of the poor, Then leaping to embrace a splendid street, Palaces, temples, morsels that but whet Her appetite: the eating of huge forests: Then with redoubled fury rushing high, Smacking her lips over a continent, And licking old civilisations up! Then in tremendous battle fire and sea Joined: and the ending of the mighty sea: Then heaven in conflagration, stars like cinders Falling in tempest: then the reeling poles Crash: and the smouldering firmament subsides, And last, this universe a single flame! [OTHO, seeing the steward and musician, who have entered, speaks. (OTHO: Nothing is left us but to eat and drink.) The feast! [ Takes bill of fare from OTHO. You understand that in the perfect feast To please the palate only is not art, But we should minister to the eye and the ear With colour and with music. Introduce The embattled oysters with a melody Of waves that wash a reef--whence do they come? (STEWARD: From Britain, sir.) Perhaps an angrier chord Of island surf might be permitted then. From Britain? Now I see thy uses, Britain. Britain is justified: she gives us oysters, And therefore Claudius invaded her. Sausages upon silver gridirons?

Slave To Nero Monologue

Rehearse Slave To Nero's monologue