Nero wouldn't really admit it but he actually liked this kind of thing. Acting, that is. Yeah, he'd put a lot of work into this, but learning the lines had come almost easily. He didn't seem to have the problem with the Shakespearian language that most people did, so things seemed to flow pretty easily. He flopped back into the bed dramatically.
"Let me be taken, let me be put to death! I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day."