Part 1

POETICAL WORKS

of

ROBERT BRIDGES

Volume III

[Colophon]

London Smith, Elder & Co 15 Waterloo Place 1898

OXFORD: HORACE HART PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

_POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BRIDGES_

_VOLUME THE THIRD CONTAINING_

_THE FIRST PART OF NERO_ _p._ 1

_ACHILLES IN SCYROS_ 179

_NOTES_ 261

LIST OF PREVIOUS EDITIONS

_THE FIRST PART OF NERO._

1. _NERO. An historical Tragedy of the first part of the reign of the emperor Nero. Published by Ewd. Bumpus. London, 1885. 4to._

_ACHILLES IN SCYROS._

1. _ACHILLES IN SCYROS. A drama in a mixed manner. Published by Ewd. Bumpus. London, 1890. 4to._

2. _ACHILLES IN SCYROS._ _Uniform with_ Shorter Poems (I). _George Bell & Sons, 1892._

THE FIRST PART OF THE HISTORY OF NERO

A HISTORICAL TRAGEDY

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

_NERO_.

_BRITANNICUS_ _stepson to Agrippina_.

_BURRUS_ _praetorian prefect_.

_SENECA_ _tutor to Nero_.

_LUCAN, the poet, nephew to Seneca_ } _OTHO_ } } _friends of Nero_. _PETRONIUS_} _gentlemen of Rome_ }

_PALLAS_ _master of the imperial household_.

_TIGELLINUS_ _successor to Pallas_.

_THRASEA, a Stoic_ } _honest senators_. _PRISCUS_ }

_ANICETUS_ _an admiral_.

_PARIS_ _a player, favourite of Nero_.

_SELEUCUS_ _an astrologer_.

_Messengers, Servants, &c._

_AGRIPPINA AUGUSTA_ _mother to Nero_.

_OCTAVIA_ _wife to Nero, sister to Britannicus_.

_POPPÆA_ _wife to Otho, loved of Nero_.

_DOMITIA_ _sister-in-law to Agrippina_.

_FULVIA_ _attendant on Agrippina_.

_Maids, &c._

_Scene. The first four acts are laid in ROME; the fifth is at BAIÆ._

NERO

ACT · I

SCENE · 1

_On the Palatine. THRASEA & PRISCUS._

_THRASEA._

IF you ask my advice then, it is silence. You are yet new to the senate, and must learn to give your opinion with least offence.

_PRISCUS._

Can you mean this?

_Thr._ Yes—it is my serious advice.

_Pr._ Now, unless it were the silence of Brutus ...

_Thr._ Hush, hush! Were this repeated, there is no greater peril than that word of yours.

_Pr._ But to you I know I may speak freely.

_Thr._ What know you of me? 10

_Pr._ I know Thrasea is brave, and resents his country’s wrongs; that he has insight to see that liberty was never more outraged than now.

_Thr._ Believe me, sir, this tale of things being at their worst is common to all times. Your judgment has gone astray upon a contempt for Cæsar’s follies, or a hatred of his mother’s crimes. Measure Nero but by what he has already done, and you may even find cause for congratulation. 19

_Pr._ We shall be ruled like the Britons by a Queen.

_Thr._ O nay. It is not possible that Nero will suffer Agrippina’s ambition to take such a place. ’Tis already a quarrel between them, and Seneca declares for him.

_Pr._ Then, I ask you, may there not be found in this quarrel an opportunity to bring in Britannicus? Now he is of age, he can no longer be held disqualified.

_Thr._ There is no question of qualification or of claim. 28

_Pr._ How so? The late emperor Claudius in his will mentioned Britannicus for his successor, as being his own son....

_Thr._ May be. But then, sir, his empress made away with both him and his will; and the Roman people chose for Cæsar the son of the murderess, rather than the heir of the idiot they were glad to be rid of. Since which day Nero is as truly our Cæsar as Britannicus could ever have been. Those who swore to Nero will remain by him; as ’tis well they should, else were no stability.

_Pr._ Shall we then do nothing? 39

_Thr._ You take things by the wrong handle. Let us make the best of what we have. Our Cæsar is the pupil of a philosopher and guided in everything by his master’s counsels.

_Pr._ You are very tolerant and hopeful.

_Thr._ Try and be so too, and I shall wish to see more of you. If you will visit my house, you will indeed be most welcome and may find congenial company. Only no more of Brutus.

_Pr._ Thank you for your kindness, if it is an earnest of your confidence—On another occasion... 50

_Thr._ O we will find many. (_Shouts heard._) What is that? (_More shouts._) It must be Cæsar: he is coming this way. Be not seen talking with me: go you that way: I will remain. Farewell.

_Pr._ Farewell, Thrasea. [_Exit._

_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, 60 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, 70 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 80 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 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 regret A better than the best; and I can see 90 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 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, A sample of my temper coined and uttered 99 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 110 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 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 121 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 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 mine And reach their goal. I say there shall be peace, There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content: 130 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.

_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, 140 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 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.

_Ner._ Plague on thy jesting. See static virtue stalks with folded arm 150 To set thee down. [_Thrasea comes forward._

_Thr._ Hail, Cæsar!

_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 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 senator Wherefore he left the house three days ago Without his voice or vote.

_Thr._ I judged the time 159 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 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. 169

_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 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 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?

_Oth._ Well, as I take it, all philosophy 180 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 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 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, I speak as well of him as he of me. 191 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-night I have time well disposed: we sup with Actè; She will inaugurate the new pavilion, And after, there are masks and clubs provided. 200 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 woman Fit to compare with Actè?

_Oth._ I say no.

_Ner._ I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised, Who knew no better; I mean the perfect art 209 Which makes each moment feverous.

_Oth._ I know none.

_Ner._ ’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envy Grudged me the word.

_Oth._ Nay, Cæsar.

_Ner._ O, I know Thou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.

_Oth._ Say, my good fortune, Cæsar.

_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.

_Ner._ Nay, no constraint; thy wish Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have, 220 And least to thee, my pleasures a command; But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE · 2

_A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS._

_BRITANNICUS._

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 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 230 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 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?

_Br._ Ah! is’t with me then He is angry? Dost thou weep for me?

_Oct._ For both.

_Br._ Now tell me all, sister.

_Oct._ O, ’tis the worst. 240 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 spite To seek my fault in thee.

_Oct._ Nay, that were nothing. Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome. 250 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 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 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 260 To have me be their fool.

_Oct._ Didst thou rebuke him?

_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 270 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.

_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 280 Sat in constraint and silence.

_Oct._ Oh! well done! And what said Nero?

_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 occasion Will oft surprise our closest guard, provoking 290 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 Dionysius Waits in the library? Begone, begone! What! crying? Here’s a picture to recover 300 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.

_Br._ My mother’s pleasure?

_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. 309

_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 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 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. 320 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 331 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, 340 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 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; Justice and truth forsworn: There is no word 349 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 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 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 360 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.

_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 370 To theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar.

_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 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 join A hope of justice, to vain will vain hope.

_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. 381 Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word.