This is an opera with­out morale. The pro­logue makes it clear: peo­ple are nei­ther vir­tu­ous nor inter­est-dri­ven, they fol­low their sex­u­al desire. Amore intro­duces us to an unlike­ly union: of the tyrant and killer Nero (also a poet, bisex­u­al and unpre­dictable) and of the noble, beau­ti­ful Pop­pea,  who uses her erot­ic pow­er to occu­py Octavia’s throne.

These two were real peo­ple: Pop­pea  bathed in milk to soft­en her skin. Her soul was soft, too: she helped minori­ties, for exam­ple accord­ing to Jose­phus Flav­ius she helped the Jews sup­pressed by Rom. Nero mar­ried her first but lat­er killed the pre­gant Pop­pea by kick­ing her strong­ly in the stom­ach.

It is like today a suprema­cist politi­cian would fall in love with a call girl.
Pos­si­ble? Freud would nod.