Original subtitles

Seneca was a senator,

and considered the wisest man in Rome.

He also got the job of tutoring Nero in all things,

and became the life coach to our city's mass-murdering president for life,

a terrible idea that would later end Seneca's life.

"I understand the grief at the departure of certain members of our community."

I understand the grief at certain members departing our community.

No, no. "I understand the grief

at the departure of certain members of our community."

You see how that flows?

"At," the," "of." Very presidential.

Ha! Yes!

"However, if there are any fishermen among us tonight, or fishwives..."

However, if there are any fishermen among us tonight, or fishwives...

That is right. Be a friend to the common people.

-You could be a fisherman. -Yes.

"I feel your feelings. I have your problems.

I'm just ever so slightly ten million times better than you."

"Fishermen know that finding a decayed clam..."

Uh, fishermen know that finding a rotten clam--

No, I wouldn't say "rotten." "Decayed" suggests that she's old, senile, has dementia.

So, "fishermen know that finding a decayed clam means that one must...

toss her from the batch for dinner not to be ruined."

Fishermen know that finding a decayed clam means that

one must toss her from the...

"Batch."

Uh, for dinner not to be ruined.

Excellent. All right, now all together from the top.

I know it makes people sad,

sort of mad to isolate them from the community.

But all fishermen know that when you've got a...

rotten oyster,

you've got to toss that thing in the...

batch for dinner.

All right.

Um...

Again, from the top.

- "I understand... - " -Seneca was the establishment,

and Rome's ruling class stood in line to pay him

extravagantly for his deep thoughts,

which mostly told his wealthy employers just what they wanted to hear.

What is the happy life, the life worth living?

Well, it is peace of mind and tranquility.

And my dear fellows, do not neglect the brain that nature put inside you

by enslaving yourselves solely to bodily enjoyments.

Eat less.

Not nothing, my good man, by no means, no means at all.

But less.

Aim for virtue. Happiness will follow.

Though married to Octavia,

Nero was besotted with a woman of pleasure.

And yet it is reason that orders the universe.

Reason beats back the passions, leading to a good life,

a life lived simply in accordance with nature.

It was rumored that Nero shared with her a love of potions ground from plants,

a vice of the lower classes,

one that often might ruin a young girl's looks.

Mr. President, you are my only teacher.

Seneca was brought in to teach Nero the ways of the world.

But Nero, who owned the world,

had but a short honeymoon with his teacher.

Sir, this is, from a purely optical--

rather, ethical standpoints-- very shaky, sir.

I mean, harming your own wife?

Well, a president must be feared.

There is one, only one thing that I ever wanted from this job,

and that is for fear of my cruelty

to be on everyone's lips.

Sir, I understand the impulse, and frankly, I admire it.

A person like you with a nature that is so healthy

and so manly and so must be expressed.

But, Mr. President, an average captain commands with fear,

a solid one with respect,

but a great one, a once-in-a-lifetime leader,

commands with mercy...

...demonstrating with each gesture of gentleness

that he masters his domain without fear.

So, you see, sir, the gesture that wins immortality

is not the hand choking the throat,

but rather the fingertips caressing the bloodstained feathers

-of the wounded dove. -Be quiet!

Does anyone ever say this to you? Hmm?

Does anyone ever demand that you stop your stupid life lessons

and just be quiet for once?

Don't look to me.

The boy is right in that you do put on tremendous airs.

-Madam, I-- -Shh.

Fancy yourself a Socrates, but in truth,

you possess no more profound wisdom than my son's wrestling coach.

Sir, I'm afraid I must plead mercy

for your wife Octavia's sake.

She is an old and treasured friend of mine.

Are you dumb?

Don't speak anymore.

I have forbidden it.

Hold your peace unless you want your brain clouted in for you with this stick.

See it?

-Yes, it's a stick. -That's right.

So stop annoying me, and maybe, just maybe,

you'll make it till morning.

Now, I'll do as I please if you give your approval or not.

Listen up! All of you.

No one is going to hurt this man today.

Now, this is a very respected man.

You all know who this is.

Now, he believes that mercy beats strength

because the man of noble spirit respects mercy more.

Well...

I do not believe in noble spirits,

and I do not respect mercy.

As of today, we will not speak of these bad ideas.

Not ever again.

We're gonna play by some different rules from now on.

Hey!

Nero's wife Octavia was chained

and all her veins were cut.

Nero sent her head to Poppaea, his new bride,

as her wedding gift.

This man had the power of life and death

over one in four people living on Earth,

and Seneca knew the odds were even at best that Nero,

this unstable bipolar child,

would soon take Seneca's life.

Yes!

Senator, I know you're a student of history.

Surely you are familiar with the stories of President Tiberius

traveling through Africa with his teacher Vipsinius?

Vipsinius said to Tiberius,

"You must show yourself as a leader physically.

Get in front of the caravan and walk before the people,

showing them that you lead the world.

Literally."

This flattered Tiberius,

and he got out in front and marched,

and sure enough...

wham!

A fucking panther reared up, bared its teeth.

Luckily, Tiberius's team came in with 100 spears,

surrounded the panther, turned him into a porcupine.

That night at dinner,

Tiberius spoke boastfully of Vipsinius.

Vipsinius said, "Mr. President, are you not angry?"

I put you in the way of a panther!"

"On the contrary," he said,

"you taught me the most important lesson.

Even for a leader, overcoming fear and shame

is everything."

But...

after dinner, Vipsinius was taken deep into the bush

where cannibals were waiting,

and it was their pleasure to take the outsider,

pinion him to tree trunks,

and to consume him while he lived,

slicing strip after strip of his skin off him as he howled,

while they ate and laughed and made merry

until he bled out and died.

Madam?

What lesson should I derive from this?

You are an expert in survival.

You should know by now that your only job is to look my son in the eye

and say, "Yes, Mr. President."

Indeed, that is the wisest choice one could possibly make.

And then go home and count your money.

Don't make me regret saving you from exile.

I do hope your kidneys feel better.

Many, many years before,

Seneca was sent into exile

by a former president for misspeaking.

This was a brutal sentence, for exile did not mean

repairing to your beach house to lick your wounds.

It meant you were dropped down naked

more or less in a wilderness and left to eat bugs.

Most exiles got sick, starved, or killed themselves.

But Seneca survived,

and Seneca knew he would not survive

a second round of this kind of abuse.

Nero grew more and more unhinged and unreliable.

He had killed his wife and poisoned both his stepdad and his half-brother.

All this was done under the guidance of his mom.

But nothing could save Agrippina

once Nero had hardened his heart against her.

Nero plotted a shipwreck for Agrippina,

but miraculously, she survived.

I survived.

My boy, I lived!

Seneca!

I saved you.

I saved you from exile!

Made you rich!

Please.

Don't act like you're hard of hearing!

I bought you your first house!

Seneca grew unimaginably rich,

writing speeches justifying Nero's crimes,

such as the killing of his mother.

I'm Mommy. Don't hurt Mommy.

Mommy loves you.

He got the name Seneca praedives:

fat cat Seneca.

As Nero grew debauched and out of touch,

many ordinary Romans fell into dire poverty.

The elites had had enough of Nero.

They'd had enough, and finally,

Senator Gaius Piso gathered his friends to kill Nero

and get the country back to normal.

We've got to take this fucking guy out right now.

But his co-conspirators had big mouths.

Nero used his wipeout of the conspirators to clean house,

and one face he'd be glad never to see again was Seneca's.

The president knew Seneca had no part in Piso's plot,

but Nero felt a deep contempt for this old man's very high opinion of himself.

Along with his upbeat life advice for Rome's wealthy,

-Seneca lived a double life... -Mmm, figs.

...staging brutal and nightmarish horror plays

for the chic upper crust.

Oh...

It's beautiful.

Oh...

I think beauty is good for the soul, don't you?

Seneca knows this.

It's just his little boy sense of humor

that twits us with all this...

ugliness.

Although we may dream of justice, we can't believe in it,

except as a kid's story our grandmother might have told us.

If anyone has ever regarded Argos with love or affection,

had a certain hometown loyalty,

well, let him come now, for pity's sake,

to prevent a crime beyond imagination.

Let fury know no bounds nor shame,

just monstrous evil, like sparks fanned into hateful flame.

Feast on this gory spectacular I have prepared for you.

Feast on this explosion of evil until your bellies burst.

I must dare something atrocious!

This isn't gonna be political, is it?

So monstrous that my brother's spirit will break

as mine will heal.

Sir, have you learned nothing from your mistakes that violence,

physical violence perpetrated on your own flesh and blood,

is the ultimate of sins?

A president must be feared.

Ah, shit, I knew this was gonna be political.

He loves taunting the president.

He thinks he can bullshit his way out of anything with his bullshit factory.

Let the mob worship what they fear.

His hot blood cannot be cooled.

Such irrational passion, such anger, such rage

must lead to catastrophe.

When you force praise by fear,

hatred and fear come back to you.

True glory, true respect

comes not from the lips, but the heart.

I've been lusting after revenge for years.

All right. What weapon will it be?

Sword, fire?

My brother Thyestes himself will be the weapon.

Let the father tear the flesh from his boys' bodies.

Let him drink the blood of his blood,

gnaw the bones of his bone

so he may hate himself with the same hot hatred as I have for him.

And you will make sure nobody knows of our plans.

The world should crack with cataclysms and earthquakes,

but we know how it is.

Everything marches on like always,

and evil becomes the new normal.

Holy mackerel. Talk about heavy-handed.

I don't get with all the chic pessimism.

Everyone's harping on the sins of the past.

He'd do better in awards season if there was someone onstage to root for.

Sorry!

No, no. No, please, no.

Ah, trapped. The whole brood.

The thought of their pain, their hurt,

gives me the whim-whams-delicious!

I am on fire with pleasure and bloodlust, unbearably fine!

How nice to see my brother.

This is the greatest happiness

for exiles to return to their home.

Flow, my tears of joy!

I have never begged before, but now I'm on my knees.

Take my sweet boys as proof of my good intention.

Brother, wear this crown while I perform the sacrifice for your return.

They're gonna kill those little slave wogs, aren't they?

I've barely eaten today. I don't know if my stomach can handle it.

No! No, please!

No. No. No, please, no!

Ha!

No! No!

No!

- Are they real? - Best not ask.

Fuckin' Seneca. Always goes over the top.

You're horrified?

If the crime had only ended here,

it would've been a blessing!

And on that day, the sun itself shrank from what it saw and fled the sky,

but too late to avoid having witnessed the noxious feast

Atreus prepared for his own brother.

I know now how gods feel.

Their power surges from my synapses.

My pure will rules the world.

It is good to be a man, even better to be a king,

but a god, limitless in power?

That is best of all.

And so,

the people soup is served.

The father carves his boys' bodies

and chews the flesh of his flesh.

He takes a sip of blood-laced wine

to wash down a piece of meat stuck in his throat.

- The only mercy for poor Thyestes is his total ignorance,

but that can't last.

The worm has turned, and all that awaits him

is the agonized realization of how the world is sick.

Mad and sick.

To be home at last, safe and sound,

my exile past, my misery forgotten.

All that remains to make the evening perfect

is to have my boys join my celebration!

I assure you, your boys are here.

They cannot be taken from you ever again.

I promise that you and they shall never be parted.

Those boys will sustain you, nourish, fill you up. I swear!

I happily accept this feast my brother has laid out for me.

Let's pour some wine to honor the gods and then be drunk!

Let's party down!

Wait.

What is this? I can't get my hand to move.

Cup's like lead. The wine won't pass my lips.

What's come over me?

Something's terribly wrong.

Oh, what is this?

I feel a tremor in my guts, a trembling.

I hear a noise from my belly, but it does not sound like me!

My heart is pounding in terror.

My children!

Beloved brother, I've got what you want here.

I can't even take it. What are we gonna tell him when it's over?

How...

can the world go on after this sort of evil?

How can all of this shit, piss, and poison

not sink into Earth's belly and blast it wide open?

"Aww, I want my boys back!

Oh, God, anything to get back my boys!"

Now you've got them.

So, hug 'em. Give 'em a kiss. Nibble on their little lips!

Be decent, and just...

give me their remains so I can give them a decent burial.

What is left of them, you have.

What isn't left of them, you have that too!

What's this riddle?

Are they being devoured by beasts?

There's only one someone here who's eaten them,

and that is you.

You have eaten your sons yourself.

Who ever saw such a crime? Huh?

Are there no limits?

Is there no decency in this world, no humanity?

Who made the world be this way?

Where are those to protect the innocent?

Whoever's in charge here, for the sake of your honor,

the sake of the world you rule,

send down your final, cleansing anger!

With fire, burn away this filth!

Do it, now! I beg--No! I defy you. I dare you.

Go on! We all deserve to die!

Or...

forever admit there's nothing there.

Nothing but black void,

in which case we must worship night and cold,

and learn to love death,

corruption, lies, and hate,

for it is all that's real, and the rest is delusion.

The gods have left, and Earth is nothing but a stupid rock.

Why is beauty gone?

Why has dark night descended, obliterating all the light of midday?

Either we lost our sun

or we chased it away.

Could it be that we, of all generations, are deserving of the sky's collapse

and an Earth knocked off its axis?

Could it be?

Clap, please.

March! March!

March, march, march! March, march!

Go! Go! Go! You're a fucker!

Go! Go, you fuckin' idiot.

Go! Go, go, go!

March! March! March! March!

Do your duty!

Go, go, go! Go, go!

Fucker!

I told you to get up, so now get your ass up!

Oh, you got to the count of three to get on up now.

One!

Two!

Three!

You're a fuckin' coward!

Do your fuckin' duty! Do your fuckin' duty!

- Love. - Fuck you!

Love him.

- Chaps like him have their uses, Mr. President.

But I worry a little bit about this one.

Lot of energy. Dishes out punishment good.

But I wonder if he's gonna be able to put a lid on it.

Watch me, boys, and you'll learn a thing or two.

See, I know how to keep it tender.

You gotta use the time you have, and you gotta do it right.

Listen.

I have a job of work for you.

You seem like a good boy.

You're not afraid to hurt someone if you have to.

If they've done something, you know...

bad.

Mm-hmm.

Do you know who Senator Seneca is?

Mmm...

nope.

Oh, that's good.

Now let me get you a horse.

"Friends, we serve up nightmares here."

A frisson, a cold shiver. Not for fragile sensibilities.

Of course, there is a lesson to our tale.

We're not indulging in ugliness for its own sake.

So, what is required of those allowed to dine at the President's table?

What are the conditions necessary for the good life--

all their benefits, the eating, the drinking--to continue?

Exactly this: you must smile at the slaughter of your loved ones

and say, "Thank you, boss. Might I have another?"

You must eat the shit you are told to eat and beg for more.

Like love, like relations, all is transactional.

Alas, whether life is worth living at such a price

is a whole other question.

Seneca, it's super clear what makes you write these gruesome, nihilistic sketches

that are so far from the great advice you give our city's achievers.

It's all the time you spend with high-rollers,

counseling these soulless aardvarks on how to lead a righteous life,

telling them what they wanted to hear.

-It makes you lash out. -Mmm, don't mean to sound like a know-it-all, Senator,

but I--I sense something churning in you, pulling you to make these, uh, events.

I can't put my fingers on it, but it's not wholesome.

No matter. Wouldn't read too much into it.

After all, we're not speaking of present-day Rome, are we?

But rather ancient Greece.

You are so bad.

But I do worry about you. All this political stuff.

You must tend your words carefully when you approach the subject of the president.

Nero would wrap your knickers 'round your head before the intermission.

If he found out we were here watching, he'd kill us too.

Keep going! Let's go! Keep it up!

Keep it up!

Push! Push, now! Keep it up!

Don't stop! Keep it going! Let's go!

There were rumors, tremors that went through the capital

that Seneca was out of favor with the president.

But Seneca, Mr. Establishment,

could talk his way out of anything,

and tonight's theatergoers,

the cream of the rich and beautiful set,

were happy to be there at the great man's side as guests at his country estate,

the most in-demand dinner spot in highbrow Rome...

at least, at first.

Remind yourselves, we die every day.

Death is stalking us everywhere,

so it's useless to fear or dread it.

Say a knot strangles your throat,

or you fall off a cliff-- ahh, splat-- onto the rocks.

Well, however you go, even if it is a ghastly thing,

at least you die fast!

How can you not be embarrassed

having dreaded something your entire life

which, bam, is over in a second?

Far better to imagine and embrace doom before it arrives

so that it ceases to terrify.

And kids, drink up. It's later than you think.

Listen, I understand that we expect

a certain quid pro quo from the universe.

You have done all that the gods have bidden,

you have maybe-- maybe even learned to delay a pleasure today

for a deeper pleasure tomorrow, a greater security,

and yet, still, one day--

So...

the question is, why do bad things happen to good people?

Meaning people like us.

People like you, my dear.

And you, kind sir. Whoops.

Even you.

And me.

And the answer is so that we may teach others how to endure.

You see, that is actually our privilege.

We are born to set an example.

Now, I'm not much one for blowing my own horn...

...but fear is not on my list of ingredients.

Can I help you, friend?

I seek the Senator named...

Sene--Seneca?

I am Seneca.

I, uh...

Would you step outside for a quick second with me, sir?

Whatever you may have to say to me,

I am happy to hear among friends.

No, I--I don't think this, sir. With due respect.

I haven't a care. Whether it be a delinquent tax bill,

or a nearby landowner hoping to alter the boundary of my property,

or a distinguished fellow from the city who believes

I am growing a friendship with his most marriageable daughter.

All of these conflicts are to me easily rectified

by a simple conversation among decent men,

and therefore open to the hearing of all my good and close friends.

Nothing will ever befall me that I shall receive with gloomy countenance.

Well...

I come to tell you, sir, that President Nero has decided

that you are to be executed

for leading a conspiracy to kill him.

And...

and he said to me personally,

he's giving you a real special gift--that's how he put it--

he's gonna let you take your own life.

Because, sir, the way I'm supposed to do it...

it's awful, sir.

I wouldn't wish it on a dog.

So, if I was you,

I'd take his council, and do it by my own hand, sir.

What is your name, officer?

Felix, sir.

Felix, if--if I may, there has been a great deal of tumult in the court of late.

Lots of arguing, raised voices, much squabbling,

and sometimes these disputes, you see,

-get out of hand... -No. No, sir--

So, please, go back, and I shall call upon him

-at his convenience to straighten this out... -No. Sir--

...right away. I'll venture out from my home at his earliest convenience.

Now that is settled. Let us invite you to dine with us,

have a jug of wine, and in the spirit of--

Sir!

No! No, sir!

The president said you are to die!

And that is that.

He said no funny business,

and that you would try all kinds of funny business.

He said you would try to talk your way out of it. It's no good.

You are to learn that you have to die.

And you can do it the hard way or the easy way,

and it's up to you, but there is no other way.

There is no way of getting out of this, sir.

I can dispatch you right now,

but I promise the way he wanted that done ain't nice.

Or...

I can come back here tomorrow morning,

pick up your body,

and you can do it much nicer.

Get to have your friends and all by your side too if you want.

My wife is coming back. She'll be here any minute.

I can do this, sir. You don't want that. Really.

I understand. No, sir. Thank you.

Can I offer you a meal before you set out on your journey?

No, sir.

You have a lot to think about right now.

I won't take up any more of your precious time.

Good night to you all.

And safe passage to you, officer.

-Paulina! -Oh, look at you!

Paulina, as I live and breathe! Look at you!

-How fresh you look after a long journey! -I know the spinning

of this silk! The spiders from Madagascar.

Look how your skin glows!

All the anger and the worry from before your trip has disappeared.

-I tell you this as a friend. -Oh, dearest.

My dearest man?

Is everything all right?

In the garden. I mean, on the grounds?

Servants have not stolen anything?

Nothing that I need to tend to?

Beloved, please, if you would, with me?

The green is ghastly.

I wonder who she fucked for this dress.

Seneca wouldn't pay for it.

Beloved, outside, please. Let's--

-She needs a new designer. -I know.

What's the thing in her ear? Is it new?

Please don't phrase it. Just speak to me. What happened?

Well, um...

-the president-- -Ugh!

-Please. -What? Just, what is it?

Well, you see, dearest, the fact of the matter is,

he--he has sentenced me to death.

Please, darling.

Li--listen. Listen.

-Listen... -What have you done?

Or what did you do?

Why did you have to consort with these people?

There were plenty of sponsors.

They would have given you whole vineyards

-rather than take them away! -Beloved... dearest one--

Why did you fall in with these horrible, vicious people?

I always said to you, these people, they--

not only do they not have manners,

they--they don't have feelings,

or morals, or...

They are not like people!

They are like--like donkeys, or jackals, or--or a hyena!

-Did you try to kill him? -What? No, of course not!

I know you love drama and all,

but let's get down to brass tacks.

We need to fix this. What must we do now?

How much do we have to pay now to get out of this?

That is not an option. I am going--I--You don't--

How do I phrase this? They are going to actually kill me.

-No. No! -Yes. Yes!

-Yes. -No!

- Yes. - No! No!

-No! -Jesus! Stop! Stop!

Why is everyone hitting me today?

You're a self-destructive ass!

Look. Look in the mirror. Look at your face.

Does this look like a clean liver?

Paragon of virtue advising the state?

Looks to me like an old drunk who eats too well.

Nero... your masterpiece!

You are drowning in the ashes of the bridges you have burned.

My mother begged me not to marry you.

-Said you'd be my ruination. -Stop. Stop.

That I would give you my best years,

-my beautiful years. -Stop.

And you know what? She was right.

-Stop it. -I never told you this...

I told her that I owed it to you.

Because you were a great man,

...and you deserved my respect.

And look at me. Look at me now!

What will I be?

Everyone knew the president was a nutter.

Who'd even take that job, knowing they were going to...

People!

You have no idea the treats I brought you!

Don't be so fucking timid!

You're not gonna break water tonight.

While Nero partied,

his armies colonized more territory,

extracting resources for Rome.

When asked for comment on this,

Seneca once remarked, "It is a chief executive's prerogative

to take what he thinks his people need."

I made the bargain that many good men have made when agreeing to aid bad regimes,

but, you know, I did it for Rome.

My friends, you understand, for our traditions.

Don't we have to preserve our beautiful traditions?

We can not have maniacs like this running the country completely unchecked!

And had I left the Senate or the president's employ as scholar-in-residence,

Nero would have been a worse princeps,

and Rome would have been subject to worse abuses.

He owes me!

He owes me.

Not money.

He owes me for any part of himself that resembles a man.

He owes me.

Well, you wrote plays where he was a sadistic fatso.

And you mocked his singing voice.

Practically to his face.

My point is, I was putting my life on the line

to defend the people of Rome

against a dangerous kid with too much power.

Attempting to--

to mold his brain into something mature.

Trying--

trying to teach someone

born with the brains of a scorpion

uh, about mercy--no!

Oh, for God's sake, no, forget about mercy,

how about just trying,

attempting to teach him a thing or two

about reason itself!

You know,

I've discovered something about you today, Senator.

You're paid to enlighten the rich,

but--but your real heart and soul isn't in that.

It's in these horrible and horrific pageants you put on.

Spectacles of cruelty.

So you show awful things to spoiled little girls

and scar them for life.

And guess what? Bullseye. Uh, you did it.

And now you've made yourself the spectacle.

Ah.

Devastatingly insightful.

I'm in agony.

You know, that reminds me of a story.

Listen, Seneca. I really gotta hit the bricks.

I've got a massive day ahead.

plus, let's face facts, you've got a lot on your plate.

Yeah, this is no time for socializing.

This is crunch time.

You have many great decisions to make,

and business to tend to.

-Straightening out this mess. -Hmm.

-Hmm. -You know,

I have dealt with a thousand worse things

a thousand times before!

So why don't you just relax,

I'll fetch a jug of wine.

-No, really, the kids are asleep. -Yeah.

You'll be missing a major moment

in the history of rhetoric,

-something they'll be teaching-- -We can't.

Can't you understand what he's trying to say?

We don't feel safe.

We don't feel safe with everything that's going on,

and I think there's nothing more to do about it,

and we have to go now.

But Cecilia, I-- I wouldn't want you to think

that I mean to detain you, or oppress you.

We're leaving, too.

But you understand, things being as chaotic as they are.

Everything is very emotional.

-You are very emotional. -We're sure you'll figure this thing out.

-We just-- -We don't want to abandon you, you know?

It's just, things are tough for us right now,

and we can't handle problems,

with the government watching us all--

-You are a great man, Senator. -Listen, listen.

Everyone, and I don't care who you are,

succumbs to panic when our senses are alerted

to the creation of an earthquake.

Does anything cause more terror than the world

going boom, boom, boom, boom!

Can you imagine the whole world falling down?

Uh, but, really, nothing to be done.

There's no point in panicking,

because we do what we can,

but that is all one can do,

And we must accept that.

Because, kids, what hidey-hole can we hope for,

what aid awaits us,

if the very planet itself is the reason for ruin?

For the vanquished,

what possible safety remains,

except, ask not for any safety?

Yeah, that's okay, but, you know, you are a great man.

What she means is, we are not philosophers.

We just want to live.

Your name is, Rufus, is that right?

I only know you through your wife.

Well, everyone knows Balbina.

And you got in here

on your wife's good looks and charms, correct?

Not--not that I mind that.

I--I appreciate a man who sees his main chance,

and goes there.

And though I don't much share your taste in, say, shirts,

um...

might I ask you a question?

Do you know why you beat your wife?

You beat her to take the edge off the pain and terror

in your own heart,

but that only adds to the pile of shame inside you,

and in a few, pitiful years you will both be dead,

but all that pain, and misery, and shame

will have been for shit.

Trumpets.

Lesson completed. So, do go.

Fuck off. Go on, beat it. Get the fuck out of here.

Tonight I am bequeathing the legacy of my life's work

to those who deserve to hear it.

Who have earned it!

People who shall themselves be remembered!

So please do, go forth, and disappoint.

Go, go!

Yes, f--you fucking,

ri--you fucking, fuck--

you fucking, fucking, fucking rich people!

You have too much to lose to even retain

the flimsiest pose of virtue.

Senator?

I mean, it's hard to take this soak-the-rich stuff

from one who clearly, and I don't mean that in a jealous way,

lives very high on the hog.

You know, that sultry voice of yours

must no doubt be amazing when someone's fucking you.

But, uh, "What you mean, why do you mock me,

Senator, when you give wealth

the exact same status I give wealth?"

Is that about right?

Exactly!

They don't warrant your wrath.

I am Seneca.

I advise, I awaken, I admonish, I accuse.

But I don't do wrath.

Now, would you care to know how differently we view wealth?

Bring it on!

In my life, wealth has a certain place,

in your life it is center-stage.

To sum up,

my wealth belongs to me, and your wealth owns you.

I regard wealth as a slave,

but you regard it as a master.

So, therefore, enough of this banning philosophers

from possessing money.

No one has ever condemned wisdom to poverty.

Did you get that, people?

Now go, fuck off, I'll, uh,

have the girls bring you a bag of dinner for your dogs.

In this moment, a key turned inside Seneca,

and as he flung the guests out of his house,

he suddenly had the knowledge, for no particular reason,

like a bolt of lightning,

this is the day he would die,

and he would die soon.

It is most distasteful to evict unwelcome guests.

And now, perhaps, most of you feel unwelcome.

Oh, my Gods!

If you had all just tasted the berries I ate last week.

From the center of Africa.

I forget the name of the town.

But they just take you out of your skin!

The beauty of the berry, you see,

is not just that you have visions,

it's what really happens to you.

Ooh!

I was transported into a sea of stars.

It was like a hundred million campfires, all burning bright.

And I felt the energy...

of a hundred million souls,

spinning together into one,

in balance.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel the softness of the stars, caressing us?

And I now have the power

to draw the sweetness, and the love,

and pass it to you.

Can you feel,

through my fingertips,

that the universe itself is bestowing sweetness on you?

And care,

and wrapping you up like a baby in a blanket?

I want this whole room to stop!

And close your eyes,

and feel in your hearts the love,

and the sweetness,

and the kindness to yourselves that my journey has brought us.

It's a special gift.

Use it, while it's still here in the room.

Dear Lucia, you are...

I don't-- how should I phrase this?

Well, shit, you're a fucking drug fiend.

Um, and before you know it,

your girlish beauty will be gone,

and you're going to end up looking like your fucking sister.

Oh, don't even take the bait, Lucia.

He has this way of twitting the ones he loves the most.

You don't say?

Well, maybe he does it to those who don't love him most!

Not after this treatment!

You get moody, and suddenly,

we're the evilest people in the world.

I'm trying to help you here!

I don't need this kind of help.

You're giving me a fucking headache.

Is that so?

Well...

Let me tell you something, Senator.

Something you may not be aware of.

Most of the senators that work in the Senate,

and most of the people that work with the senators

that work in the Senate,

they see you, this great, wise man

with your great tips on how one ought to live one's life,

and then they see those ridiculous leather boots

with the fancy double laces,

and the leather rubbed in some fucking butter

by a dozen virgins,

and what do you think they see?

A hick.

A hayseed.

A jumped-up climber, struggling to fit in

with people you will never understand.

People of breeding, people of noble birth.

Stop, stop, stop. Enough.

You have to learn to quit when you're behind, kiddo!

You're a one-woman opium crisis.

They laugh at you.

The great stoic preacher of the simple life,

who got filthy rich being Nero's ghostwriter.

You are a vain, hypocritical fool,

and a coward,

and you have tried to have the hair of slaves

stitched into a wig,

to hide your cuckold pate!

Uh-oh, you didn't know that?

Don't you fucking touch me!

Time for you to be on your way, Madame.

It is growing dark. Night is almost upon us.

It has been a sincere sensation,

I hope you have a safe journey home,

and should you ever need anything, anything at all,

such as protection from common thugs,

do not hesitate to call upon me.

Good day.

I am putting a curse on you.

A fucking curse!

Not on your child bride. But on your legacy.

And that is the hex that will chase your words,

not your stinking carcass,

through a hundred thousand years!

And no amount of cheap shock tactic

blood and gut trash theatre is gonna change that one bit!

You think we're rubbish, don't you?

And you are the great wise man, a superhuman man.

Well, I wanna tell you something, mister.

Let's have a come-to-Jupiter moment here.

The one thing that absolutely no one will say to your face is--

Madwoman.

Her son died, you know.

Been deranged with grief.

Uh, that it was her sister's. Nephew, actually.

Whatevs.

Moving on.

Here we are.

I have a gift for you, my darling.

My darling baby child.

I've been traveling. Believe me.

I am besieged with gifts.

I have so many gifts.

I have this ostrich egg--

Dearest, no, not that kind of gift.

I mean an ultimate gift.

Something, an offering that we, as two people,

refining our spirits together through our love, have come to.

Dear... I'm so tired.

I have no time for riddles.

Take my hand. Come with me.

Let me show you what I mean.

We used to come here all the time.

Remember our secret spot? Been way too long.

Oh, Dearest. We have had our quarrels.

Many. Many.

Had I known when we were wed how hard it'd be

to lie beside one so much older than myself--

Dearest! My love, please.

Just saying, had I known about all your...

unfortunate digestive issues,

not to mention your erectile dysfunction,

and of course your so-called "elite predilections",

the nurse dresses, the paddle,

that night you finally passed those peppers,

and then the constant leakage of your--

Dearest, my love, shh!

Please, for me. Just listen. For a brief moment.

You know that for all of our differences,

I love you so much more than anyone.

I love you so much, I feel as if my chest were exploding.

Yes, I...

I know you do.

And I'm sorry I struck you, I--

Dearest. Listen. Let me explain how things are here.

Here?

Here, on this earth of ours.

Yes, I loved that.

From when I was your pupil.

You would explain things to me,

the workings of how things... worked.

You don't do that for me any more.

But, dearest, I am!

Just listen.

I know you may say that the worst thing is to age,

get worn out, and die off,

or rather, as my generation says, to fade away.

Of course, we don't just fall down,

and come apart all at once.

We fade away.

Like I was saying about your body parts.

All of the things, Paulina,

that are beautiful about you, that are special about you,

and I'm not referring to your physical beauty,

I want you to know that, because that--

That's ridiculously superficial,

and at this point, I don't even think about it.

Of course not, because you are an advanced person.

Very advanced.

But I want you to know that all the things

that are special about you, your learning,

your great sensitivity,

your compassion toward animals,

your tenderness toward children--

That's another story.

I don't think I ever got over it.

The loss, the emptiness.

Couldn't we go somewhere and have a child,

surely we can afford an orphan child that could be ours!

I'd keep it, you wouldn't have to deal with it.

Dearest, Dearest, stay with me, focus.

Just... listen.

Just--just hear me.

We all know we have to go.

But, when the time comes,

and death comes knock, knock, knockin' upon our door,

well, we shake, and we scream,

and we shout, "How do I get out of this?"

But don't waste your breath.

Every journey has its end.

And I must go.

And you, you, Paulina, must go,

the way all things go.

It happened to your mom and dad,

and it would happen to our children, if we had any.

And now, it is our turn.

Just the two of us.

Time for a magnificent exit.

Think of all the billions and trillions of people

that are going to die after us,

and isn't it--isn't it amazing that you, Paulina,

are so much braver then they?

But so much braver. You were an actress.

Only for a brief moment, but you were a very good one.

And of course you remember that we don't applaud,

and reward the most acting, but rather the best acting.

And you must be certain to leave

an absolutely indelible ending.

I'm very, very sure that you've given them something to remember.

And they will remember Paulina

at the absolute pinnacle of her beauty and charm.

I know this is not how you saw this going.

But, listen.

I promise you, if you do this,

the name Paulina will sound...

so loud, for eternity.

We are so privileged.

So privileged.

So honored.

Will they--I'm so afraid to ask this.

No, no! Go.

Will they not just remember my name?

Will they remember my face?

It's so stupid, and wrong,

but I wanted to be remembered for when I was young,

and beautiful.

They will remember your face for all of eternity.

And more.

Tonight, this special night,

I shall pass on to you, dear friends,

the fruit of a life spent in contemplation.

The humble wisdoms of a simple man,

a small-town schoolteacher, really,

if one wishes to view Rome as a small town,

which, of course, it is.

I want to gift you my legacy.

And, p.s., Paulina and I are not in the least afraid

of our taking our final curtain call tonight.

It is a well-known, and at this point,

an almost canonical piece of Roman lore,

the last words spoken by Socrates before dying.

"Crito! We owe a cock to Ascepius!"

A-S-C-E-P-I-U-S.

"Crito, please don't forget to pay the debt."

Ascepius is the god of healing,

and many have inferred that Socrates was giving thanks

for his safe and peaceable exit out of this world.

Or, perhaps, it was a form of lowbrow joke.

You know, um, a cock, and all that.

Anyway, Socrates!

Well, who can hack into the epic brain

of that world champ of the suicide Olympics,

in whose shadow we all live and die.

He chugged...

...that hemlock, and said,

"I am jumping out of my own skin, to see what's up in the next world."

I mean, what a screwball.

But, seriously, folks.

Come on. What a night, huh?

I want to start first by thanking you,

dear people,

for the smoothness of my exit from this world,

and perhaps most of all, you, dear Paulina,

for making my deliverance most gorgeous, and most comforted.

Now friends, you know that it is a man's own fault

if he suffers,

for he can always put an end to his misery,

by putting an end to himself.

You see, I have always imagined gods saying,

"I made nothing easier in this life than dying."

Try any vein in your body.

Open up, and bleed. I promise you.

You will have left the building in under three minutes.

Suicide is a superpower.

Death is coming.

He rides by night.

Be graceful. Let him have his way.

Do not neigh, and jerk against the bit in your mouth.

Death is coming to make us all equals.

Death's here, my love.

Not as sweet as my little Paulina,

but sweet all the same.

Folks.

We are ready to go,

ready to go, ready to go,

ready to go-ho-ho.

No, no, I insist.

Let me get ready for death, as I would get ready for bed.

Just as cozily, just as happily

as I would jump into bed and pull up the covers,

so will I jump into my tomb, and pull it closed.

Here, feel my pulse, I dare you.

Even-Steven, not raised by so much as a notch.

I lived well, and now I am going to die well,

And that means to die gladly.

Friends, most humble thanks.

Farewell.

Friends, whoa, hey!

What happened to your philosophical convictions,

your rationality rehearsed for so many years,

against impending gloom and doom?

Haven't you read my writings?

I mean, look at this little girl,

Paulina, she understands.

My best pupil, my one masterpiece. My equal.

You know, she told me something the night we met--

Dearest. I come to join you now.

My love.

You prefer the glory of dying.

I will not begrudge you such a noble example.

Let the fortitude of so courageous an end

be alike in both of us,

but let there be more in your passing

to win the respect of the women who were born after you.

I live to serve your legacy, master.

Now I join you.

No, I shall take this straight.

You have it, dear friend, Statius.

Ah!

Ah!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Gentlemen.

I believe we need to do a bit more cutting.

Friends, once again,

here we are.

The grand finale.

Yep. This is it.

My legacy.

My own death is my ultimate--

Aah! Legacy.

It is a wonderful thing to learn thoroughly how--

Eee! To die.

Aah!

He who has learned how to die has unlearned slavery.

He is...

Fear, due to a fee...

For what--

he...

...fear do the bars of...

Ah!

For what fear...

...what fear do...

the bars of a jail, the room is spinning, really spinning.

Learned, enlightened, man, his way out is clear.

Ah!

There is only one chain which binds us to life,

and that is the love of life. And so I bid you farewell.

Milord.

No, I must insist... I must go!

Senator! I'm sorry! We can't endure this no longer!

-But-- -This girl,

to sacrifice this beautiful girl,

as part of your... theatrical imagination,

well, it's just...

You should be dreadfully ashamed of yourself.

What? Gentlemen.

Gentlemen. Wait. Don't ruin this moment.

This is an historic moment.

No, wait! Have I no more authority in my own house?

All right! All right!

There's no need to accost me in my own house.

All right!

I shall be peaceable!

I shall be peaceable. Unhand me.

But--

Seneca...

What?

Look at yourself.

This clearly isn't working.

It's as I always expected, truly,

I have sawdust in my veins!

We need to reach for a more traditional approach.

Lucilius.

I keep some hemlock at the ready

for purposes of contemplation.

Grind me a cup of hemlock.

The ground leaves that produce the hemlock drink.

Thank you, most trusted friend,

for moving me to the next scene of our drama.

Perhaps I can become my best Seneca by playing Socrates.

Farewell, my friend.

Folks, once more.

One final time.

This... is the end.

At long last.

And my eyes range over many centuries,

the succession of so many ages.

I see kingdoms rise to wealth and glory

and plummet into nothingness.

I see magnificent cities descend into hellholes.

I see vast lands submerged under ever-rising seas.

Understand that permanence,

the very concept, does not exist.

The clock will demolish everything you loved,

everything you ever laid bloody eyes on!

Time is the landlord. It owns everything.

And not only human beings will be time's playmates

and victims, because, let's face it,

time does not even care that we exist,

but also planets, galaxies,

whole galactic star systems will be...

wiped out. Mountains completely levelled.

Seas smote. Smote. Smote!

Affiliations? Commerce? Thwarted. Utterly.

All bonds? Over.

Cities devoured by chasms, rocked by earthquakes,

stunk out with pestilential vapors.

And, in a thoroughgoing deluge,

the planet itself will kill off whole species,

and create a conflagration none shall escape.

All that now shines in neat and orderly arrangement

will burn in a single fire,

until all matter is consumed in flame.

This stuff always cheers me up somehow.

Strange. Right?

Even when it gets so bad I can't talk.

For how can anything exist when I am dead?

This is it. Finally. At last. The end.

I can see it. I can see the end approaching me.

Soul turning silent.

Mute, forever.

Oh?

I dreamt of sweetmeats.

So... not dead. Oof.

See? Very cold.

The hemlock isn't getting us there.

It worked for Socrates,

but not me...

my friend, my great friend, helper,

my compatriot, most beloved assistant in my life's work.

Let's end this now.

Draw me a bath, piping hot, hard to endure,

so that even the steam rising up might singe you,

and without delay plunge me into it, resist me even if

I say otherwise, plunge me in there, I say,

let us finish this. Do it. Please.

I don't care if you burn the skin off me,

I cannot any longer

endure the shaking that comes of the cold!

-Master... -No, don't call me that.

Please. You know that word represents everything I loathe!

But sir, Senator, my friend-

Yes. But that is who we are. Yeah, of cour--what?

Sir, I--I know you well, I know your philosophy well.

And I feel, well, I have with me now enough to make your legacy.

That is what we are doing here. My legacy.

To form the minds of all the future generations--

I have here quite enough, and know some thoughts of yours

I can add as well--

No. No! No, I am not finished yet. No.

Yes, sir, but the fact is...

-Not finished-- -I am not safe.

-No, no. -Sir, as you can see--

-No. No. Lucilius... -Yes, sir, yes, and so--

I can assure you, my dearest friend--

no harm will come to you, zip, zilch--

but more importantly, these words, these specific ideas,

these last words of noble Seneca, Senator Seneca,

Fat cat Seneca who never met a dollar he didn't like.

These words, these conceits, conceptual phantasms,

spasms of insight and spontaneous perceptions,

memes, thought bites, filigreed shivers of sensation,

these will form the fundament of, of a future civilized world,

these will be the backbone and the blood and the nutrients

of the world to come, which will redeem

this fallen world, this... barbarous world that devours us,

how can you not want to be a part of that, a co-creator?

Get it? You--you would get shared credit

for the world!

H-how can you reject the greatness

I am offering you as a--

You have spoken enough.

And we have heard enough.

And we have listened enough.

And there has been quite enough of you, sir, for eternity.

Now I shall take your words, and you have my oath

that I will share them with the whole world,

all of the generations to follow you.

But you must fucking let me go!

Dear, noble, kind, well-meaning Lucilius--

My followers. At one time,

I had more followers than anyone else in Rome.

I must have followers!

We had a deal, an agreement

among gentlemen, that you would

come in the morning to pick up my corpse, in the morning.

It's not yet morning! You promised me.

You promised!

Fuck, fucking fuck, what--

is this fucking hell?

I lost a tooth, I lost a fucking tooth.

And I just slip into--

Not gonna get--if you could find my tooth. Ooh!

What happened to Paulina?

What, what... where was she going?

Go get... my wife...

Wait, Wait! Wait, my tooth hurts.

President told me you were all funny business, and sure enough.

Should be preparing to die,

and here you were telling your friends jokes.

No, they're not jokes!

They're life lessons.

The gentlemen were writing down

my life's wisdoms for the children of the future!

Time's up.

No! You promised me 'til morning. You promised.

You promised 'til morning. You promised!

Do you know what a code is, sir?

Honor? Surely you know the word.

Bet you gave a whole speech on it once!

See, where I come from, honor means you do your duty.

You're told to march into battle?

You march!

Death is waiting. Still you march!

Ain't no crying and moaning and putting it off.

You get in there and you do what is needed,

and you don't bellyache about it!

Now...

march.

You said 'til morning... it's... we're not there yet.

Just give me... just give me fifteen minutes.

Is it true? Do I merely talk the talk?

Do I merely speak brave thoughts,

or do I actually feel them?

Was my scorn... fortune really just pretense,

a pantomime, an after-school half-off theatre matinee?

And how are we to know if our end is truly virtuous,

or just another bit of self-deceiving gimmickry

from a man who was both a playwright and a star?

The day has come when all tricks and disguises,

all props and makeup have been put away,

and I will examine all my years

and I will pass judgment on myself.

Everything that I have said or done,

up until now, means nothing.

The chips are down.

There's no turning back.

Death is going to deliver the final verdict.

I will not shirk my duties, my good man. Oh, no.

To all things a season, and now...

it is harvest time.

And I am prepared.

Wait, wait--one second--

See you in the morning.

My man. My gentleman.

My murderer.

Have you forsaken me, too?

No matter. I shall speak on.

To the very end.

Well. Here we are.

At last. The end.

We are born for a very, very brief span of life...

brief span of life... and even this, this time...

it just rushes by, so swiftly, speedily,

that with very few exceptions,

all things find themselves abandoned by life...

Was a lamp worse off when it was extinguished

then when it was lit?

We are also extinguished and lit.

Guess what? The suffering part?

Comes in between.

What am I doing? Find comfort...

For the distressed.

Protect them... from their terrible fear.

That's my job.

What's the word?

For a candle, the thing.

Not that, it's different.

It's brown, it's round...

It's little.

It's a thing, what's the thing?

Words leaving... me.

Like... my friends.

Can't.

Cannot die.

Can't not die.

Won't die.

'Cause my heart and brain.

And lips and tongue... won't give out.

'Cause they're scared.

I'm scared.

It hurts.

It hurts!

It hurts me.

Mommy, it hurts me.

Oh.

And in the end, the civilization that Seneca

so cherished became rent by a hundred divisions,

like tiny cuts along the veins of a fragile and elderly body.

Rome did not so much fall, as we often hear,

as it slowly slipped away...

Later, Nero would desert his post as a commander,

and was tried in absentia and sentenced to death.

He killed himself, in a fashion

more cowardly than Seneca's... but shorter.

It was reported by Seneca's scribe

that his last words were a favorite quote from Cicero,

often repeated by Seneca as if they were his own.

The words apply to our world, perhaps,

more than his: