ACT · II

Pr.Farewell, Thrasea.[Exit.Thr.Young blood, hot blood and true:Yet is his energetic patriotismUseless,—nay, like a weapon out of date,Looks not to be a warlike weapon more.60I think in me it had been truer wisdom,Knowing the forces of this drowning time,To have said outright—Good, honest Priscus,Be good no longer, let thine honestyRot, it can stead thee nothing; there’s no manWill be the better for it; there’s no fieldWhere thou canst exercise it, not a placeIn all the world where in secure possessionThou mayst retire with it: cast it away;For ’tis a burden far beyond thy freight.70If thou wilt swim at all, swim with the times,An empty bottom on a shallow tide:Be that thy seamanship—No; I am bold to sayOur virtue hath the topmost vaunt of honour;Seeing we are true to it in spite of shame,When its incompetence before the worldGives it the lie; nor can the fawning curs,That bask in Cæsar’s sunshine, when they mock us,Dream that we wish them other than they are.I give them joy. See here is folly’s king,80The hare-brained boy to whom injurious fortuneHas given the throne and grandeur of the world:Now if I bow my head ’tis in thy game,Ridiculous fate; and my soul laughs at thee.[Retires aside.Enter Nero, Otho, Lucan, Tigellinus, and Paris.NERO.This is the place: enlarge it on this sideTo take in all the hill. That house of RufusThat blocks the way must down, and all the pilesOn the south slope. Now say, is’t fine or no?LUCAN.Magnificent.OTHO.It shows the mind of Cæsar.TIGELLINUS.Splendid.Ner.At least the best: we still regret90A better than the best; and I can seeThese possibilities. Think if the hillWere raised some hundred feet, till it o’ertoppedThe Capitol—eh! lords. And so ’twere best;But still ’twill pass for good.Luc.’Twill be a palaceFor site and size the first in all the world.Ner.To kill the Jews’ brag of Jerusalem?Oth.I think it.Ner.You, my friends, who know my scheme,May mete and judge my general scope in this,99A sample of my temper coined and utteredFor the world’s model, that all men’s endeavoursMay rise with mine to have all things at best,Not only for myself but for the world;Riches and joy and heart’s content for all.It may be done, and who should do it but I?See now my years at best, my youth and strengthWith form and gifts agreeing, and my power,....Know’st thou my power?—Oh! Otho, I tell theeThe Cæsars which have been have never knownWhat ’tis to be full Cæsar. Dost thou think?110There’s nothing good on earth but may be wonWith power and money; and I have them both;Ay, and the will.Oth.Much may be done, no doubt.Ner.Much! Why there’s nothing, man, may not bedone.The curse of life is of our own devising,Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness.He wounds his happiness against a cageOf his own make, and only waits the wordFor one to set his door open,—and look,Having his liberty is he not gladAs heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance121Sends him a liberator, ay, and oneNot to cajole or preach, but, will or nill,Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage,With all who would hang back and skulk therein,How shall he not be happy?Luc.This shall beThe world’s last crown, by man with utmost powerEndowed to drive him to the good he shuns.Ner.Ay. Be all human hopes summed up in mineAnd reach their goal. I say there shall be peace,130There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content:The god on earth shall work the good whereofThe folly of man hath baulked the gods in heaven:And good that men desire shall be as commonAs ills they now repine at. When I sayThere shall be justice, see, even at my wordInjustice is no more.PARIS.The house of Rufus,Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace.Ner.Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar,And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire140Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that,Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes.Is not this more than justice?Par.Ay, ’tis power.Ner.Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit,To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last nightSang I divinely? Wert thou enviousWhen I put on the lion’s skin, and didThe choice of Hercules?Par.Most mighty Cæsar,I wished that I had asses ears to hear;Mine are not long enough.Ner.Plague on thy jesting.150See static virtue stalks with folded armTo set thee down.[Thrasea comes forward.Thr.Hail, Cæsar!Ner.Thy opinion,Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou thinkIf I extend my palace to take inThe hill whereon we stand?Thr.The plan no doubtIs worthy of the site, and for the site,Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome.Ner.Well said.Stay. I would ask my fellow senatorWherefore he left the house three days agoWithout his voice or vote.159Thr.I judged the timeUnmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senateWas of one mind: a vote was of no count.Ner.Thou show’dst a sense against us in not voting.Thr.That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.Ner.Well, I would have thee speak. We are not fullWithout thy voice: nay more, such conduct makesThe senate but a name; for times have beenWhen silence was well justified by fear.Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill169On those that grudge their approbation.Thr.Cæsar commands my service and my praise;I shall not lack.Ner.We look for much from thee.Thr.Long live your majesty.[Exit.Ner.There’s something goodIn that man, Otho; spite of his dry mienAnd Stoic fashion.Oth.Nay, I like him not.He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old SenecaIs stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him,You find he yields, shows softness here and there.This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule.Ner.Do you despise divine philosophy?180Oth.Well, as I take it, all philosophyIs questionable guessing, but the senseA man grows up with bears the stamp of nature.Ner.How mean you that?Oth.At best this fine-spun systemIs but a part of man’s experienceDrawn out to contradiction of the rest.’Tis a fool’s wisdom.Luc.’Tis a form of pleasure.Oth.True. Though there be no theory of lifeThat’s worth a button, yet the search for oneSeems to content some men better than life.Ner.Call him not fool, Otho!Oth.Unless I wrong him,191I speak as well of him as he of me.Or if he say nothing, his guarded mannerCovers, be sure, a more unkind contempt.Par.(apeing Thr.). That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.Tig.Ha! ha! Excellent!Ner.Paris would make a senator.Oth.Well, give me life.Ner.Ay, that is wisdom. Live.Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-nightI have time well disposed: we sup with Actè;She will inaugurate the new pavilion,200And after, there are masks and clubs provided.Thou’lt join us, eh!Oth.With all my heart.Ner.(to Tig. and Luc.).And you.And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes,And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now.[Exit Paris.Good news for them I think; pleasure in store.We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho,You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a womanFit to compare with Actè?Oth.I say no.Ner.I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised,209Who knew no better; I mean the perfect artWhich makes each moment feverous.Oth.I know none.Ner.’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envyGrudged me the word.Oth.Nay, Cæsar.Ner.O, I knowThou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.Oth.Say, my good fortune, Cæsar.Ner.Now if thy boastBe true as it is rare, thy lady’s presenceWould add much spirit to our gaieties.I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-nightThou bring her.Oth.In this thing, for friendship’s sake,Hold me excused.Ner.Nay, no constraint; thy wish220Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have,And least to thee, my pleasures a command;But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.[Exeunt.SCENE · 2A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS.BRITANNICUS.Why art thou weeping, dearest? Has Nero beenAgain unkind?OCTAVIA.Most unkind.Br.Weep not so.Octavia, weep not so.Count but my tears as thine, so shall my pityComfort thy wrongs. Nay, wert thou not my sister,How must I feel to see so base a rivalHonoured before thyself in Cæsar’s palace!230Why even his mother could not grant him thatUnmoved, but wept with rage: while he himself,I saw, was touched with shame.Oct.Hush, hush! nay, ’tis not that;I mind not that: at least they tell me nowI must not mind; and since he never loved meIt matters little. ’Tis not that at all.Br.Then something fresh; what more?Oct.I scarce dare tell.What hast thou said or done, Britannicus,That so could anger him?Br.Ah! is’t with me thenHe is angry? Dost thou weep for me?Oct.For both.Br.Now tell me all, sister.240Oct.O, ’tis the worst.Here as I sat this morning strode he in,More fired with rage than ever I have seen him,More like his wicked mother, when her furyHas made me tremble. All he said I heard not,But this, that I, his wife, had turned against himTo plot with thee, and led thee on to boastThat being of age thou wert the rightful heir,And more: what is his meaning?Br.’Tis his spiteTo seek my fault in thee.Oct.Nay, that were nothing.250Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome.He dare not face the truth. He cannot brookThy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt goAnd leave me in my prison.Br.’Twas last nightI vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought’Twould be as soon forgotten.Oct.Say, how was it?Br. It was the feast of Saturn,—and as it chanced(Or rather, I should say, ’twas so arrangedTo please him, at his own desire) he drewThe lot of king of the feast, and when the company260Were drunk he used his silly privilegeTo have me be their fool.Oct.Didst thou rebuke him?Br.It happened thus. When all the guests in turnHad answered to their forfeit, as his humourPrescribed to each, he turned on me, and bade meShow them a tragic scene, foreseeing howThe incongruence of time and place, the audienceOf drunken sots would turn my best to worst,And smother passion in a sea of laughter.But, for the wine I had been constrained to taste270Had mounted to my head, I felt at heartA force to wither up their sottish jeers,And ere I knew my purpose I was sittingUpright upon the couch, and with full passionSinging the old Greek song thou saidst so wellSuited our fortunes.Oct.O, would I had been there!They could not laugh at thee.Br.They did not laugh.The sadness and the sweetness of the music,After their low hoarse songs, startled to senseTheir sodden, maudlin brains: they listened all280To the end, and then with daunted appetiteSat in constraint and silence.Oct.Oh! well done!And what said Nero?Br.He but smiled untilThe tale tells how the poor child disinheritedWas put to death by his usurping brother;Then his eye sank; and last, when Paris roseAt the end and praised my acting, he grew wild,And said the feast was o’er, and bade us go.Oct.Alas! ’twas done too well.Br.I mind it not:I wear no mask: and manifold occasion290Will oft surprise our closest guard, provokingUnbidden motions that betray the heart:’Twere vain to seek to quell them: they are like our shadows,Which, if the sun shine forth, appear and showOur form and figure. Such haps cannot be helped.Enter Agrippina and attendants.ATTENDANT.The Augusta, your royal mother.AGRIPPINA.Good day, my son.Br.Good morrow, mother.Agr.Octavia still here! Child, why, know you not’Tis long past noon, and DionysiusWaits in the library? Begone, begone!300What! crying? Here’s a picture to recoverA husband’s favour!—Fulvia, attend my daughterInto my tiring-room, and treat her eyesTo hide these scalded rings: and then, Octavia,Go to the library, talk thy full hour;Thy Greek is shameful. The rest go.[Exeunt Octavia and attendants.My son,I’d speak with thee.Br.My mother’s pleasure?Agr.Thou art my pleasure, child.Fear me no more. I can be kinder to thee309Than ever I have been to my own true son.Br.I thank your majesty.Agr.Nay, now ’tis spoilt.Best call me mother. Thou hast need of me.I have heard all; what happed last night at supper.Thou hast offended Cæsar.Br.He does wrongTo use the freedom of the feast to insult me,And then resent my freedom in repellingHis right-aimed insult.Agr.True; the libertyShould cover it: but in thy veins there runsThat which outcries thy speech; which, wert thou dumb,Would speak thee guilty, and being tongued proclaims320Thy needful sentence. ’Twas done bitterly.I know thy song. Dost thou believe, Britannicus,That I could give the tale another ending?——Suppose, I say, I read it in some bookWrit differently: how that the proud usurper,Owing all to his mother—dost thou follow me?—How, when he came to power, instead of sharingWith her who had toiled for him, and in her loveHad parted from all praise, looking to reapIn him the fuller recompense of glory,How he, when time came he should make return,331Denied her even the common duty owedBy son to mother, set her will aside,Laughed at her, added to her shames, reproached her,Mocked her with presents taken openlyOut of her treasures,—as to say outright,All now is mine, thou hast no claim at all;See what I choose to give, thank me for these—Held her as nothing, hated her, brought inHis strumpet to her chamber,—that was the sum—340And she then, when she saw her love derided,I say, repented, came to the boy she had wronged....Br.I know, I know.Agr.Then, if thou knowest, say;What said he, when she told him she would turnHer love on him, would set him in the placeWhence she had thrust him out? What said he?Br.Nothing.Agr.Nothing!Br.Nay, I remember he said thus:Wronged have I been by all, and none can right me;All hath been false to me save sorrow only;349Justice and truth forsworn: There is no wordThat I dare speak; yet if thou stoop to insult meMy tongue will show my wrongs are not forgotten.Agr.My dearest boy, believe me.Br.The last timeThou call’dst me thus ’twas when my father died.I thought then ’twas in kindness, afterwardsI found the meaning.Agr.Yea, I confess I wronged thee;That is my meaning now: had I not wronged thee,My speech would have no sense at all: ’tis thisI come to urge: in this thou must believe me.Canst thou not see, had I no pity in me,360No true remorseful pangs, yet still my wrongsWould move me thus? Though thou trust not my love,Read in these tears of anger and despairThe depth of my set purpose, my revenge.Br.I partly do believe thee.Agr.Believe me wholly,And my revenge is thine.Br.Nay, think not so.There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it.What are my private wrongs to Rome? If CæsarStablish the empire, where’s the citizenWill take exception that he hath wronged his brother?370Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rightsTo theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar.Agr.O could’st thou see this offer as thy lastAnd only safety thou would’st not refuse me.Br.I rather hope to be forgiven the thingI never thought, than win by doing it.Agr.Thou wilt not join with me?Br.There’s nought to join,Save to thy will to right me I might joinA hope of justice, to vain will vain hope.Agr.Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot longBe Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar,381She might be matched with any excellence.Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word.Br.Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt trueThere is a way. This matter’s full presentmentHath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thoughtAnd held no purpose in it; there’s one way:Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speakWith Burrus, he is plain and honourable,And if he think there’s gain in the exchange,390And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name,The sense of right, the promise of a largess,Will win them to a man. The senate follows:In a day, an hour, without a drop of bloodMy wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus?Agr.I dare not.Br.Then do nothing. Or if thou canst,Assure thy son that from my helpless stateAnd suffering spirit he has nought to fear.Agr.Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult,I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke,But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much.[Exit.401Br.Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murderFalls on itself: that in the guilty breastThe implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tuskThe bleeding strings of nature: and in this womanOf no remorse hath fated vengeance stirredHer heart to hate her son. O, I did wrongYielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me,That he should rule my fate is my best safety.For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.—These days have brought much change and food for410fear.ACT · IISCENE · IA room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS.SENECA.TheArmenian papers came through me last evening;I sent them on at once.BURRUS (refusing a seat).Nay, thank ye, Seneca:I have been two hours in the saddle.Sen.’Tis a matterOf heavy import.Bur.I demanded audience.Sen.Well?Bur.All is settled.Sen.And who has the commissionTo undertake the Parthian?Bur.Corbulo.Sen.’Tis good. I like the choice. And what said Nero?Bur.He told me well and wisely what to do,When I had shown him all that must be done.420Sen.I wish his judgment were as tractableWith me. Took he your word?Bur.The affair went pat.What luck for Corbulo!Sen.Pray sit, good Burrus,And let us talk: my thought is most at easeWhen I am sitting.Bur.I pray you then be seated.Sen.(sitting). Burrus, my difficulties day by dayIncrease. The cares of empire are as nothingTo managing an emperor.Bur.Why, what’s the matter?Sen.Give but attention to me.Bur.I attend.Sen.Do so most carefully: ’tis not a businessThat may be brushed aside.Bur.I am all attention.430Sen.Nero has broken with Britannicus:Heard you of that?Bur.Heard of it? I was there.Sen.Well, that has brought to head the jealous difference’Twixt Cæsar and his mother. Since he first,At our advice, as was most fit, denied herA place in power, she has striven to force a titleOut of her power for mischief: this you have seen:But now to hear how she hath edged her practice;She overskins her old accustomed hate440Of young Britannicus, speaks kindly of him,Hints of his right; nay, even hath dared upbraidCæsar with usurpation. This was matchedWith words from him, which she no sooner heardThan in her rage disordered flew she hitherTo win me to her part; when seeing that IStood firm, she fled in furious passion, sayingThat I should learn what temper she was of.Bur.I would that all the gods and goddessesMight burn them up to cinders.Sen.Peace, I say.450Cannot you sit? I need your best advice.Bur.Except the lad.—Advice concerning what?Sen. Why this new phase of court affairs. See you,[Takes a paper.’Twas my just counterpoise of warring forcesEnsured stability. Here Agrippina,Saved from her own ambition in the splendourOf her son’s estate, serves in his interestTo guard Britannicus, whom else he had feared.The boy, in favour of his sister’s title,Sinks his own right. Then Nero’s youthful passions,460Growing to hatred of Octavia’s bed,Are stayed at equilibrium, as my judgmentAnd knowledge of the world enables me;And all goes well, when an important factor,The empress, rounds, and plays me false to her motive,As here assumed, and vitiates with that flawThe nice adjustment of each several item.—I go to expound you this; you scarce attend,Or answer with an oath.Bur.A pious prayerTo extricate you from a world of trouble.

Pr.Farewell, Thrasea.[Exit.

Thr.Young blood, hot blood and true:Yet is his energetic patriotismUseless,—nay, like a weapon out of date,Looks not to be a warlike weapon more.60I think in me it had been truer wisdom,Knowing the forces of this drowning time,To have said outright—Good, honest Priscus,Be good no longer, let thine honestyRot, it can stead thee nothing; there’s no manWill be the better for it; there’s no fieldWhere thou canst exercise it, not a placeIn all the world where in secure possessionThou mayst retire with it: cast it away;For ’tis a burden far beyond thy freight.70If thou wilt swim at all, swim with the times,An empty bottom on a shallow tide:Be that thy seamanship—No; I am bold to sayOur virtue hath the topmost vaunt of honour;Seeing we are true to it in spite of shame,When its incompetence before the worldGives it the lie; nor can the fawning curs,That bask in Cæsar’s sunshine, when they mock us,Dream that we wish them other than they are.I give them joy. See here is folly’s king,80The hare-brained boy to whom injurious fortuneHas given the throne and grandeur of the world:Now if I bow my head ’tis in thy game,Ridiculous fate; and my soul laughs at thee.[Retires aside.

Thr.Young blood, hot blood and true:

Yet is his energetic patriotism

Useless,—nay, like a weapon out of date,

Looks not to be a warlike weapon more.

I think in me it had been truer wisdom,

Knowing the forces of this drowning time,

To have said outright—Good, honest Priscus,

Be good no longer, let thine honesty

Rot, it can stead thee nothing; there’s no man

Will be the better for it; there’s no field

Where thou canst exercise it, not a place

In all the world where in secure possession

Thou mayst retire with it: cast it away;

For ’tis a burden far beyond thy freight.

If thou wilt swim at all, swim with the times,

An empty bottom on a shallow tide:

Be that thy seamanship—No; I am bold to say

Our virtue hath the topmost vaunt of honour;

Seeing we are true to it in spite of shame,

When its incompetence before the world

Gives it the lie; nor can the fawning curs,

That bask in Cæsar’s sunshine, when they mock us,

Dream that we wish them other than they are.

I give them joy. See here is folly’s king,

The hare-brained boy to whom injurious fortune

Has given the throne and grandeur of the world:

Now if I bow my head ’tis in thy game,

Ridiculous fate; and my soul laughs at thee.

[Retires aside.

Enter Nero, Otho, Lucan, Tigellinus, and Paris.

NERO.

This is the place: enlarge it on this sideTo take in all the hill. That house of RufusThat blocks the way must down, and all the pilesOn the south slope. Now say, is’t fine or no?

This is the place: enlarge it on this side

To take in all the hill. That house of Rufus

That blocks the way must down, and all the piles

On the south slope. Now say, is’t fine or no?

LUCAN.

Magnificent.

OTHO.

It shows the mind of Cæsar.

TIGELLINUS.

Splendid.

Ner.At least the best: we still regret90A better than the best; and I can seeThese possibilities. Think if the hillWere raised some hundred feet, till it o’ertoppedThe Capitol—eh! lords. And so ’twere best;But still ’twill pass for good.

Ner.At least the best: we still regret

A better than the best; and I can see

These possibilities. Think if the hill

Were raised some hundred feet, till it o’ertopped

The Capitol—eh! lords. And so ’twere best;

But still ’twill pass for good.

Luc.’Twill be a palaceFor site and size the first in all the world.

Luc.’Twill be a palace

For site and size the first in all the world.

Ner.To kill the Jews’ brag of Jerusalem?

Oth.I think it.

Ner.You, my friends, who know my scheme,May mete and judge my general scope in this,99A sample of my temper coined and utteredFor the world’s model, that all men’s endeavoursMay rise with mine to have all things at best,Not only for myself but for the world;Riches and joy and heart’s content for all.It may be done, and who should do it but I?See now my years at best, my youth and strengthWith form and gifts agreeing, and my power,....Know’st thou my power?—Oh! Otho, I tell theeThe Cæsars which have been have never knownWhat ’tis to be full Cæsar. Dost thou think?110There’s nothing good on earth but may be wonWith power and money; and I have them both;Ay, and the will.

Ner.You, my friends, who know my scheme,

May mete and judge my general scope in this,

A sample of my temper coined and uttered

For the world’s model, that all men’s endeavours

May rise with mine to have all things at best,

Not only for myself but for the world;

Riches and joy and heart’s content for all.

It may be done, and who should do it but I?

See now my years at best, my youth and strength

With form and gifts agreeing, and my power,....

Know’st thou my power?—Oh! Otho, I tell thee

The Cæsars which have been have never known

What ’tis to be full Cæsar. Dost thou think?

There’s nothing good on earth but may be won

With power and money; and I have them both;

Ay, and the will.

Oth.Much may be done, no doubt.

Ner.Much! Why there’s nothing, man, may not bedone.The curse of life is of our own devising,Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness.He wounds his happiness against a cageOf his own make, and only waits the wordFor one to set his door open,—and look,Having his liberty is he not gladAs heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance121Sends him a liberator, ay, and oneNot to cajole or preach, but, will or nill,Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage,With all who would hang back and skulk therein,How shall he not be happy?

Ner.Much! Why there’s nothing, man, may not be

done.

The curse of life is of our own devising,

Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness.

He wounds his happiness against a cage

Of his own make, and only waits the word

For one to set his door open,—and look,

Having his liberty is he not glad

As heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance

Sends him a liberator, ay, and one

Not to cajole or preach, but, will or nill,

Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage,

With all who would hang back and skulk therein,

How shall he not be happy?

Luc.This shall beThe world’s last crown, by man with utmost powerEndowed to drive him to the good he shuns.

Luc.This shall be

The world’s last crown, by man with utmost power

Endowed to drive him to the good he shuns.

Ner.Ay. Be all human hopes summed up in mineAnd reach their goal. I say there shall be peace,130There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content:The god on earth shall work the good whereofThe folly of man hath baulked the gods in heaven:And good that men desire shall be as commonAs ills they now repine at. When I sayThere shall be justice, see, even at my wordInjustice is no more.

Ner.Ay. Be all human hopes summed up in mine

And reach their goal. I say there shall be peace,

There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content:

The god on earth shall work the good whereof

The folly of man hath baulked the gods in heaven:

And good that men desire shall be as common

As ills they now repine at. When I say

There shall be justice, see, even at my word

Injustice is no more.

PARIS.

The house of Rufus,Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace.

The house of Rufus,

Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace.

Ner.Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar,And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire140Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that,Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes.Is not this more than justice?

Ner.Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar,

And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire

Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that,

Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes.

Is not this more than justice?

Par.Ay, ’tis power.

Ner.Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit,To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last nightSang I divinely? Wert thou enviousWhen I put on the lion’s skin, and didThe choice of Hercules?

Ner.Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit,

To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last night

Sang I divinely? Wert thou envious

When I put on the lion’s skin, and did

The choice of Hercules?

Par.Most mighty Cæsar,I wished that I had asses ears to hear;Mine are not long enough.

Par.Most mighty Cæsar,

I wished that I had asses ears to hear;

Mine are not long enough.

Ner.Plague on thy jesting.150See static virtue stalks with folded armTo set thee down.[Thrasea comes forward.

Ner.Plague on thy jesting.

See static virtue stalks with folded arm

To set thee down.[Thrasea comes forward.

Thr.Hail, Cæsar!

Ner.Thy opinion,Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou thinkIf I extend my palace to take inThe hill whereon we stand?

Ner.Thy opinion,

Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou think

If I extend my palace to take in

The hill whereon we stand?

Thr.The plan no doubtIs worthy of the site, and for the site,Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome.

Thr.The plan no doubt

Is worthy of the site, and for the site,

Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome.

Ner.Well said.Stay. I would ask my fellow senatorWherefore he left the house three days agoWithout his voice or vote.

Ner.Well said.

Stay. I would ask my fellow senator

Wherefore he left the house three days ago

Without his voice or vote.

159Thr.I judged the timeUnmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senateWas of one mind: a vote was of no count.

Thr.I judged the time

Unmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senate

Was of one mind: a vote was of no count.

Ner.Thou show’dst a sense against us in not voting.

Thr.That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.

Ner.Well, I would have thee speak. We are not fullWithout thy voice: nay more, such conduct makesThe senate but a name; for times have beenWhen silence was well justified by fear.Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill169On those that grudge their approbation.

Ner.Well, I would have thee speak. We are not full

Without thy voice: nay more, such conduct makes

The senate but a name; for times have been

When silence was well justified by fear.

Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill

On those that grudge their approbation.

Thr.Cæsar commands my service and my praise;I shall not lack.

Thr.Cæsar commands my service and my praise;

I shall not lack.

Ner.We look for much from thee.

Thr.Long live your majesty.[Exit.

Ner.There’s something goodIn that man, Otho; spite of his dry mienAnd Stoic fashion.

Ner.There’s something good

In that man, Otho; spite of his dry mien

And Stoic fashion.

Oth.Nay, I like him not.He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old SenecaIs stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him,You find he yields, shows softness here and there.This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule.

Oth.Nay, I like him not.

He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old Seneca

Is stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him,

You find he yields, shows softness here and there.

This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule.

Ner.Do you despise divine philosophy?

180Oth.Well, as I take it, all philosophyIs questionable guessing, but the senseA man grows up with bears the stamp of nature.

Oth.Well, as I take it, all philosophy

Is questionable guessing, but the sense

A man grows up with bears the stamp of nature.

Ner.How mean you that?

Oth.At best this fine-spun systemIs but a part of man’s experienceDrawn out to contradiction of the rest.’Tis a fool’s wisdom.

Oth.At best this fine-spun system

Is but a part of man’s experience

Drawn out to contradiction of the rest.

’Tis a fool’s wisdom.

Luc.’Tis a form of pleasure.

Oth.True. Though there be no theory of lifeThat’s worth a button, yet the search for oneSeems to content some men better than life.

Oth.True. Though there be no theory of life

That’s worth a button, yet the search for one

Seems to content some men better than life.

Ner.Call him not fool, Otho!

Oth.Unless I wrong him,191I speak as well of him as he of me.Or if he say nothing, his guarded mannerCovers, be sure, a more unkind contempt.

Oth.Unless I wrong him,

I speak as well of him as he of me.

Or if he say nothing, his guarded manner

Covers, be sure, a more unkind contempt.

Par.(apeing Thr.). That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.

Tig.Ha! ha! Excellent!

Ner.Paris would make a senator.

Oth.Well, give me life.

Ner.Ay, that is wisdom. Live.Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-nightI have time well disposed: we sup with Actè;She will inaugurate the new pavilion,200And after, there are masks and clubs provided.Thou’lt join us, eh!

Ner.Ay, that is wisdom. Live.

Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-night

I have time well disposed: we sup with Actè;

She will inaugurate the new pavilion,

And after, there are masks and clubs provided.

Thou’lt join us, eh!

Oth.With all my heart.

Ner.(to Tig. and Luc.).And you.And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes,And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now.[Exit Paris.

Ner.(to Tig. and Luc.).And you.

And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes,

And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now.

[Exit Paris.

Good news for them I think; pleasure in store.We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho,You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a womanFit to compare with Actè?

Good news for them I think; pleasure in store.

We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho,

You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a woman

Fit to compare with Actè?

Oth.I say no.

Ner.I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised,209Who knew no better; I mean the perfect artWhich makes each moment feverous.

Ner.I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised,

Who knew no better; I mean the perfect art

Which makes each moment feverous.

Oth.I know none.

Ner.’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envyGrudged me the word.

Ner.’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envy

Grudged me the word.

Oth.Nay, Cæsar.

Ner.O, I knowThou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.

Ner.O, I know

Thou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.

Oth.Say, my good fortune, Cæsar.

Ner.Now if thy boastBe true as it is rare, thy lady’s presenceWould add much spirit to our gaieties.I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-nightThou bring her.

Ner.Now if thy boast

Be true as it is rare, thy lady’s presence

Would add much spirit to our gaieties.

I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-night

Thou bring her.

Oth.In this thing, for friendship’s sake,Hold me excused.

Oth.In this thing, for friendship’s sake,

Hold me excused.

Ner.Nay, no constraint; thy wish220Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have,And least to thee, my pleasures a command;But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.[Exeunt.

Ner.Nay, no constraint; thy wish

Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have,

And least to thee, my pleasures a command;

But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE · 2A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS.

A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS.

BRITANNICUS.

Why art thou weeping, dearest? Has Nero beenAgain unkind?

Why art thou weeping, dearest? Has Nero been

Again unkind?

OCTAVIA.

Most unkind.

Br.Weep not so.Octavia, weep not so.Count but my tears as thine, so shall my pityComfort thy wrongs. Nay, wert thou not my sister,How must I feel to see so base a rivalHonoured before thyself in Cæsar’s palace!230Why even his mother could not grant him thatUnmoved, but wept with rage: while he himself,I saw, was touched with shame.

Br.Weep not so.

Octavia, weep not so.

Count but my tears as thine, so shall my pity

Comfort thy wrongs. Nay, wert thou not my sister,

How must I feel to see so base a rival

Honoured before thyself in Cæsar’s palace!

Why even his mother could not grant him that

Unmoved, but wept with rage: while he himself,

I saw, was touched with shame.

Oct.Hush, hush! nay, ’tis not that;I mind not that: at least they tell me nowI must not mind; and since he never loved meIt matters little. ’Tis not that at all.

Oct.Hush, hush! nay, ’tis not that;

I mind not that: at least they tell me now

I must not mind; and since he never loved me

It matters little. ’Tis not that at all.

Br.Then something fresh; what more?

Oct.I scarce dare tell.What hast thou said or done, Britannicus,That so could anger him?

Oct.I scarce dare tell.

What hast thou said or done, Britannicus,

That so could anger him?

Br.Ah! is’t with me thenHe is angry? Dost thou weep for me?

Br.Ah! is’t with me then

He is angry? Dost thou weep for me?

Oct.For both.

Br.Now tell me all, sister.

240Oct.O, ’tis the worst.Here as I sat this morning strode he in,More fired with rage than ever I have seen him,More like his wicked mother, when her furyHas made me tremble. All he said I heard not,But this, that I, his wife, had turned against himTo plot with thee, and led thee on to boastThat being of age thou wert the rightful heir,And more: what is his meaning?

Oct.O, ’tis the worst.

Here as I sat this morning strode he in,

More fired with rage than ever I have seen him,

More like his wicked mother, when her fury

Has made me tremble. All he said I heard not,

But this, that I, his wife, had turned against him

To plot with thee, and led thee on to boast

That being of age thou wert the rightful heir,

And more: what is his meaning?

Br.’Tis his spiteTo seek my fault in thee.

Br.’Tis his spite

To seek my fault in thee.

Oct.Nay, that were nothing.250Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome.He dare not face the truth. He cannot brookThy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt goAnd leave me in my prison.

Oct.Nay, that were nothing.

Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome.

He dare not face the truth. He cannot brook

Thy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt go

And leave me in my prison.

Br.’Twas last nightI vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought’Twould be as soon forgotten.

Br.’Twas last night

I vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought

’Twould be as soon forgotten.

Oct.Say, how was it?

Br. It was the feast of Saturn,—and as it chanced(Or rather, I should say, ’twas so arrangedTo please him, at his own desire) he drewThe lot of king of the feast, and when the company260Were drunk he used his silly privilegeTo have me be their fool.

Br. It was the feast of Saturn,—and as it chanced

(Or rather, I should say, ’twas so arranged

To please him, at his own desire) he drew

The lot of king of the feast, and when the company

Were drunk he used his silly privilege

To have me be their fool.

Oct.Didst thou rebuke him?

Br.It happened thus. When all the guests in turnHad answered to their forfeit, as his humourPrescribed to each, he turned on me, and bade meShow them a tragic scene, foreseeing howThe incongruence of time and place, the audienceOf drunken sots would turn my best to worst,And smother passion in a sea of laughter.But, for the wine I had been constrained to taste270Had mounted to my head, I felt at heartA force to wither up their sottish jeers,And ere I knew my purpose I was sittingUpright upon the couch, and with full passionSinging the old Greek song thou saidst so wellSuited our fortunes.

Br.It happened thus. When all the guests in turn

Had answered to their forfeit, as his humour

Prescribed to each, he turned on me, and bade me

Show them a tragic scene, foreseeing how

The incongruence of time and place, the audience

Of drunken sots would turn my best to worst,

And smother passion in a sea of laughter.

But, for the wine I had been constrained to taste

Had mounted to my head, I felt at heart

A force to wither up their sottish jeers,

And ere I knew my purpose I was sitting

Upright upon the couch, and with full passion

Singing the old Greek song thou saidst so well

Suited our fortunes.

Oct.O, would I had been there!They could not laugh at thee.

Oct.O, would I had been there!

They could not laugh at thee.

Br.They did not laugh.The sadness and the sweetness of the music,After their low hoarse songs, startled to senseTheir sodden, maudlin brains: they listened all280To the end, and then with daunted appetiteSat in constraint and silence.

Br.They did not laugh.

The sadness and the sweetness of the music,

After their low hoarse songs, startled to sense

Their sodden, maudlin brains: they listened all

To the end, and then with daunted appetite

Sat in constraint and silence.

Oct.Oh! well done!And what said Nero?

Oct.Oh! well done!

And what said Nero?

Br.He but smiled untilThe tale tells how the poor child disinheritedWas put to death by his usurping brother;Then his eye sank; and last, when Paris roseAt the end and praised my acting, he grew wild,And said the feast was o’er, and bade us go.

Br.He but smiled until

The tale tells how the poor child disinherited

Was put to death by his usurping brother;

Then his eye sank; and last, when Paris rose

At the end and praised my acting, he grew wild,

And said the feast was o’er, and bade us go.

Oct.Alas! ’twas done too well.

Br.I mind it not:I wear no mask: and manifold occasion290Will oft surprise our closest guard, provokingUnbidden motions that betray the heart:’Twere vain to seek to quell them: they are like our shadows,Which, if the sun shine forth, appear and showOur form and figure. Such haps cannot be helped.

Br.I mind it not:

I wear no mask: and manifold occasion

Will oft surprise our closest guard, provoking

Unbidden motions that betray the heart:

’Twere vain to seek to quell them: they are like our shadows,

Which, if the sun shine forth, appear and show

Our form and figure. Such haps cannot be helped.

Enter Agrippina and attendants.

ATTENDANT.

The Augusta, your royal mother.

AGRIPPINA.

Good day, my son.

Br.Good morrow, mother.

Agr.Octavia still here! Child, why, know you not’Tis long past noon, and DionysiusWaits in the library? Begone, begone!300What! crying? Here’s a picture to recoverA husband’s favour!—Fulvia, attend my daughterInto my tiring-room, and treat her eyesTo hide these scalded rings: and then, Octavia,Go to the library, talk thy full hour;Thy Greek is shameful. The rest go.[Exeunt Octavia and attendants.

Agr.Octavia still here! Child, why, know you not

’Tis long past noon, and Dionysius

Waits in the library? Begone, begone!

What! crying? Here’s a picture to recover

A husband’s favour!—Fulvia, attend my daughter

Into my tiring-room, and treat her eyes

To hide these scalded rings: and then, Octavia,

Go to the library, talk thy full hour;

Thy Greek is shameful. The rest go.

[Exeunt Octavia and attendants.

My son,I’d speak with thee.

My son,

I’d speak with thee.

Br.My mother’s pleasure?

Agr.Thou art my pleasure, child.Fear me no more. I can be kinder to thee309Than ever I have been to my own true son.

Agr.Thou art my pleasure, child.

Fear me no more. I can be kinder to thee

Than ever I have been to my own true son.

Br.I thank your majesty.

Agr.Nay, now ’tis spoilt.Best call me mother. Thou hast need of me.I have heard all; what happed last night at supper.Thou hast offended Cæsar.

Agr.Nay, now ’tis spoilt.

Best call me mother. Thou hast need of me.

I have heard all; what happed last night at supper.

Thou hast offended Cæsar.

Br.He does wrongTo use the freedom of the feast to insult me,And then resent my freedom in repellingHis right-aimed insult.

Br.He does wrong

To use the freedom of the feast to insult me,

And then resent my freedom in repelling

His right-aimed insult.

Agr.True; the libertyShould cover it: but in thy veins there runsThat which outcries thy speech; which, wert thou dumb,Would speak thee guilty, and being tongued proclaims320Thy needful sentence. ’Twas done bitterly.I know thy song. Dost thou believe, Britannicus,That I could give the tale another ending?——Suppose, I say, I read it in some bookWrit differently: how that the proud usurper,Owing all to his mother—dost thou follow me?—How, when he came to power, instead of sharingWith her who had toiled for him, and in her loveHad parted from all praise, looking to reapIn him the fuller recompense of glory,How he, when time came he should make return,331Denied her even the common duty owedBy son to mother, set her will aside,Laughed at her, added to her shames, reproached her,Mocked her with presents taken openlyOut of her treasures,—as to say outright,All now is mine, thou hast no claim at all;See what I choose to give, thank me for these—Held her as nothing, hated her, brought inHis strumpet to her chamber,—that was the sum—340And she then, when she saw her love derided,I say, repented, came to the boy she had wronged....

Agr.True; the liberty

Should cover it: but in thy veins there runs

That which outcries thy speech; which, wert thou dumb,

Would speak thee guilty, and being tongued proclaims

Thy needful sentence. ’Twas done bitterly.

I know thy song. Dost thou believe, Britannicus,

That I could give the tale another ending?—

—Suppose, I say, I read it in some book

Writ differently: how that the proud usurper,

Owing all to his mother—dost thou follow me?—

How, when he came to power, instead of sharing

With her who had toiled for him, and in her love

Had parted from all praise, looking to reap

In him the fuller recompense of glory,

How he, when time came he should make return,

Denied her even the common duty owed

By son to mother, set her will aside,

Laughed at her, added to her shames, reproached her,

Mocked her with presents taken openly

Out of her treasures,—as to say outright,

All now is mine, thou hast no claim at all;

See what I choose to give, thank me for these—

Held her as nothing, hated her, brought in

His strumpet to her chamber,—that was the sum—

And she then, when she saw her love derided,

I say, repented, came to the boy she had wronged....

Br.I know, I know.

Agr.Then, if thou knowest, say;What said he, when she told him she would turnHer love on him, would set him in the placeWhence she had thrust him out? What said he?

Agr.Then, if thou knowest, say;

What said he, when she told him she would turn

Her love on him, would set him in the place

Whence she had thrust him out? What said he?

Br.Nothing.

Agr.Nothing!

Br.Nay, I remember he said thus:Wronged have I been by all, and none can right me;All hath been false to me save sorrow only;349Justice and truth forsworn: There is no wordThat I dare speak; yet if thou stoop to insult meMy tongue will show my wrongs are not forgotten.

Br.Nay, I remember he said thus:

Wronged have I been by all, and none can right me;

All hath been false to me save sorrow only;

Justice and truth forsworn: There is no word

That I dare speak; yet if thou stoop to insult me

My tongue will show my wrongs are not forgotten.

Agr.My dearest boy, believe me.

Br.The last timeThou call’dst me thus ’twas when my father died.I thought then ’twas in kindness, afterwardsI found the meaning.

Br.The last time

Thou call’dst me thus ’twas when my father died.

I thought then ’twas in kindness, afterwards

I found the meaning.

Agr.Yea, I confess I wronged thee;That is my meaning now: had I not wronged thee,My speech would have no sense at all: ’tis thisI come to urge: in this thou must believe me.Canst thou not see, had I no pity in me,360No true remorseful pangs, yet still my wrongsWould move me thus? Though thou trust not my love,Read in these tears of anger and despairThe depth of my set purpose, my revenge.

Agr.Yea, I confess I wronged thee;

That is my meaning now: had I not wronged thee,

My speech would have no sense at all: ’tis this

I come to urge: in this thou must believe me.

Canst thou not see, had I no pity in me,

No true remorseful pangs, yet still my wrongs

Would move me thus? Though thou trust not my love,

Read in these tears of anger and despair

The depth of my set purpose, my revenge.

Br.I partly do believe thee.

Agr.Believe me wholly,And my revenge is thine.

Agr.Believe me wholly,

And my revenge is thine.

Br.Nay, think not so.There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it.What are my private wrongs to Rome? If CæsarStablish the empire, where’s the citizenWill take exception that he hath wronged his brother?370Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rightsTo theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar.

Br.Nay, think not so.

There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it.

What are my private wrongs to Rome? If Cæsar

Stablish the empire, where’s the citizen

Will take exception that he hath wronged his brother?

Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rights

To theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar.

Agr.O could’st thou see this offer as thy lastAnd only safety thou would’st not refuse me.

Agr.O could’st thou see this offer as thy last

And only safety thou would’st not refuse me.

Br.I rather hope to be forgiven the thingI never thought, than win by doing it.

Br.I rather hope to be forgiven the thing

I never thought, than win by doing it.

Agr.Thou wilt not join with me?

Br.There’s nought to join,Save to thy will to right me I might joinA hope of justice, to vain will vain hope.

Br.There’s nought to join,

Save to thy will to right me I might join

A hope of justice, to vain will vain hope.

Agr.Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot longBe Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar,381She might be matched with any excellence.Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word.

Agr.Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot long

Be Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar,

She might be matched with any excellence.

Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word.

Br.Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt trueThere is a way. This matter’s full presentmentHath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thoughtAnd held no purpose in it; there’s one way:Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speakWith Burrus, he is plain and honourable,And if he think there’s gain in the exchange,390And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name,The sense of right, the promise of a largess,Will win them to a man. The senate follows:In a day, an hour, without a drop of bloodMy wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus?

Br.Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt true

There is a way. This matter’s full presentment

Hath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thought

And held no purpose in it; there’s one way:

Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speak

With Burrus, he is plain and honourable,

And if he think there’s gain in the exchange,

And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name,

The sense of right, the promise of a largess,

Will win them to a man. The senate follows:

In a day, an hour, without a drop of blood

My wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus?

Agr.I dare not.

Br.Then do nothing. Or if thou canst,Assure thy son that from my helpless stateAnd suffering spirit he has nought to fear.

Br.Then do nothing. Or if thou canst,

Assure thy son that from my helpless state

And suffering spirit he has nought to fear.

Agr.Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult,I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke,But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much.[Exit.

Agr.Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult,

I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke,

But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much.[Exit.

401Br.Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murderFalls on itself: that in the guilty breastThe implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tuskThe bleeding strings of nature: and in this womanOf no remorse hath fated vengeance stirredHer heart to hate her son. O, I did wrongYielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me,That he should rule my fate is my best safety.For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.—These days have brought much change and food for410fear.

Br.Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder

Falls on itself: that in the guilty breast

The implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tusk

The bleeding strings of nature: and in this woman

Of no remorse hath fated vengeance stirred

Her heart to hate her son. O, I did wrong

Yielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me,

That he should rule my fate is my best safety.

For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.—

These days have brought much change and food for

fear.

ACT · IISCENE · IA room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS.

A room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS.

SENECA.

TheArmenian papers came through me last evening;I sent them on at once.

TheArmenian papers came through me last evening;

I sent them on at once.

BURRUS (refusing a seat).

Nay, thank ye, Seneca:I have been two hours in the saddle.

Nay, thank ye, Seneca:

I have been two hours in the saddle.

Sen.’Tis a matterOf heavy import.

Sen.’Tis a matter

Of heavy import.

Bur.I demanded audience.

Sen.Well?

Bur.All is settled.

Sen.And who has the commissionTo undertake the Parthian?

Sen.And who has the commission

To undertake the Parthian?

Bur.Corbulo.

Sen.’Tis good. I like the choice. And what said Nero?

Bur.He told me well and wisely what to do,When I had shown him all that must be done.

Bur.He told me well and wisely what to do,

When I had shown him all that must be done.

420Sen.I wish his judgment were as tractableWith me. Took he your word?

Sen.I wish his judgment were as tractable

With me. Took he your word?

Bur.The affair went pat.What luck for Corbulo!

Bur.The affair went pat.

What luck for Corbulo!

Sen.Pray sit, good Burrus,And let us talk: my thought is most at easeWhen I am sitting.

Sen.Pray sit, good Burrus,

And let us talk: my thought is most at ease

When I am sitting.

Bur.I pray you then be seated.

Sen.(sitting). Burrus, my difficulties day by dayIncrease. The cares of empire are as nothingTo managing an emperor.

Sen.(sitting). Burrus, my difficulties day by day

Increase. The cares of empire are as nothing

To managing an emperor.

Bur.Why, what’s the matter?

Sen.Give but attention to me.

Bur.I attend.

Sen.Do so most carefully: ’tis not a businessThat may be brushed aside.

Sen.Do so most carefully: ’tis not a business

That may be brushed aside.

Bur.I am all attention.430

Sen.Nero has broken with Britannicus:Heard you of that?

Sen.Nero has broken with Britannicus:

Heard you of that?

Bur.Heard of it? I was there.

Sen.Well, that has brought to head the jealous difference’Twixt Cæsar and his mother. Since he first,At our advice, as was most fit, denied herA place in power, she has striven to force a titleOut of her power for mischief: this you have seen:But now to hear how she hath edged her practice;She overskins her old accustomed hate440Of young Britannicus, speaks kindly of him,Hints of his right; nay, even hath dared upbraidCæsar with usurpation. This was matchedWith words from him, which she no sooner heardThan in her rage disordered flew she hitherTo win me to her part; when seeing that IStood firm, she fled in furious passion, sayingThat I should learn what temper she was of.

Sen.Well, that has brought to head the jealous difference

’Twixt Cæsar and his mother. Since he first,

At our advice, as was most fit, denied her

A place in power, she has striven to force a title

Out of her power for mischief: this you have seen:

But now to hear how she hath edged her practice;

She overskins her old accustomed hate

Of young Britannicus, speaks kindly of him,

Hints of his right; nay, even hath dared upbraid

Cæsar with usurpation. This was matched

With words from him, which she no sooner heard

Than in her rage disordered flew she hither

To win me to her part; when seeing that I

Stood firm, she fled in furious passion, saying

That I should learn what temper she was of.

Bur.I would that all the gods and goddessesMight burn them up to cinders.

Bur.I would that all the gods and goddesses

Might burn them up to cinders.

Sen.Peace, I say.450Cannot you sit? I need your best advice.

Sen.Peace, I say.

Cannot you sit? I need your best advice.

Bur.Except the lad.—Advice concerning what?

Sen. Why this new phase of court affairs. See you,[Takes a paper.

Sen. Why this new phase of court affairs. See you,

[Takes a paper.

’Twas my just counterpoise of warring forcesEnsured stability. Here Agrippina,Saved from her own ambition in the splendourOf her son’s estate, serves in his interestTo guard Britannicus, whom else he had feared.The boy, in favour of his sister’s title,Sinks his own right. Then Nero’s youthful passions,460Growing to hatred of Octavia’s bed,Are stayed at equilibrium, as my judgmentAnd knowledge of the world enables me;And all goes well, when an important factor,The empress, rounds, and plays me false to her motive,As here assumed, and vitiates with that flawThe nice adjustment of each several item.—I go to expound you this; you scarce attend,Or answer with an oath.

’Twas my just counterpoise of warring forces

Ensured stability. Here Agrippina,

Saved from her own ambition in the splendour

Of her son’s estate, serves in his interest

To guard Britannicus, whom else he had feared.

The boy, in favour of his sister’s title,

Sinks his own right. Then Nero’s youthful passions,

Growing to hatred of Octavia’s bed,

Are stayed at equilibrium, as my judgment

And knowledge of the world enables me;

And all goes well, when an important factor,

The empress, rounds, and plays me false to her motive,

As here assumed, and vitiates with that flaw

The nice adjustment of each several item.—

I go to expound you this; you scarce attend,

Or answer with an oath.

Bur.A pious prayerTo extricate you from a world of trouble.

Bur.A pious prayer

To extricate you from a world of trouble.

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