Part 2

_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, 390 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 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._

_Br._ Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder 401 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. 410

ACT · II

SCENE · I

_A room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS._

_SENECA._

The Armenian 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 matter Of heavy import.

_Bur._ I demanded audience.

_Sen._ Well?

_Bur._ All is settled.

_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.

_Sen._ I wish his judgment were as tractable 420 With 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 ease When I am sitting.

_Bur._ I pray you then be seated.

_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 business That may be brushed aside.

_Bur._ I am all attention. 430

_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 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, 440 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 goddesses Might burn them up to cinders.

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

_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 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, 460 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 prayer To extricate you from a world of trouble.

_Sen._ O, I can do it, Burrus, trust to me. 470 I place them all as chessmen, and I find Delight in difficulty: but ’tis hard, When one has chosen, strengthened a position, To change the value of a piece. I think Much of your judgment, and I ask you now What you would do. I must decide to-day.

_Bur._ Why must?

_Sen._ As if you knew not.

_Bur._ If your art Be to adapt yourself to every change....

_Sen._ You know ’tis not. I say, should Nero now Banish his mother?

_Bur._ Hark ye, Seneca, 480 If you remember, I foresaw this trouble. I know no remedy, nor is’t my office To arrange the affairs of the palace, gods be praised. But this is clear to me, that our three friends Will never live together: what I urge Is, separate them: if you cannot that, We must not stick in balance when they break. Whene’er that happens, our pre-eminent duty Lies in our oath to Cæsar, and our second 489 May be his mother’s pleasure, to whose schemes We owe our place. [_Knocking heard._

_Sen._ Who’s there? come in.

_Enter Servant._

_SERVANT._

The Augusta Has come in private, and desires an audience.

_Sen._ Again, you see, the Augusta.

_Bur._ Eh! I’ll be off.

_Sen._ One moment, pray. (_To Servt._) Beg her be pleased to enter. [_Exit Servt._

Burrus, I adjure you not to go, your presence May moderate her passion: or, if not, ’Twere best you saw it.

_Bur._ Well, all’s one to me.

_Enter Agrippina._

_AGRIPPINA._

Be not surprised that I so soon return: I have repented. Ha! the general here! Thou seest me, Burrus, on a woman’s errand. 500 Nay, no apology; thou hast o’erheard My merit, not my fault.

_Bur._ I thank your majesty. I will withdraw.

_Agr._ Nay, I desire thee stay. I came not here to find thee; but thy presence Mends my intention. Let us hold a council. ’Tis not the first time our triumvirate, Secretly gathered in the nick of time, Hath preordained the changes which should fall Upon the earth like fate. To-day’s decree, If we combine, will be as big with action 510 As any we have uttered.

_Bur._ I fear I stand In ignorance of the question.

_Sen._ I will explain.

_Agr._ Listen to me. We three who here are met Stand in such place, that, if we but unite, There’s none can say us nay. I do not ask Who raised thee, Burrus, or thee, Seneca, To where ye are: nay, if I asked you that I’d look for no more answer than if asking What two and two make; ’tis self-evident, Unquestioned; it was I; and if you owe 520 Allegiance to another, ’tis to one Whom I made more than I made you; ay, one Who has nothing but what was mine, and is mine: His body mine, his life and being mine, His power, his place, his honour mine, my son, My Nero, who, when my husband late deceased, The honest Claudius, passed to join the gods, Was raised and set by me under your guidance, To share with me the empire of the world. Now what it may be that hath warped his heart 530 Is from the matter: enough that so it is. I might blame one of you, sure not myself, Who have ever held in love and kindness towards him The same intention; nay, and from my kindness I swerve not now, though for a wholesome end I mask that kindness in severity. There’s but this choice, I must withdraw my favour, Or suffer my disgrace: ay, and for you, Burrus and Seneca, be sure, the same. If I fall, ye will fall. Therefore being one 540 In interest with me, I look to find you ready To stand by me in any scheme of action Which may preserve our station, while we may.

_Sen._ Your majesty says well. We have hitherto All held one purpose, and if now we are foiled Or thwarted, none is thwarted more than I. And since it is my pride, in the high place Whereto your judgment called me, to exceed The measure which might justify your choice, I shall not fail. In these new difficulties 550 I would make no display of fresh resource; Full means there will be, yet what means it is I am not ripe to say.

_Agr._ What say’st thou, Burrus? The matter Seneca avoids is this: Shall I be driven to exile, or will ye Join with me to forbid it?

_Bur._ Hath your majesty, In urging opposition, any scheme That might give life to policy?

_Agr._ Ay, something. I would protect Britannicus: his claim And popularity being pressed, must drive 560 Nero upon my side.

_Bur._ Such act were merely The boy’s destruction, were’t not done in earnest And backed by force.

_Agr._ Then, since the case demands All earnestness, and since we lack not force.....

_Bur._ Between your son’s rule and your stepson’s claim There lies no middle way.

_Agr._ I never held That a stout purpose chose a middle way.

_Sen._ What, what! Consider, madam, what you urge Is to dethrone your son.

_Agr._ I am desperate.

_Sen._ Indeed, indeed! 570

_Agr._ What say’st thou, Burrus? Hast thou not a hope The rightful heir might prove the better Cæsar?

_Bur._ Were this in earnest, yet my oath to Cæsar Forbids me even to think the thing you say.

_Agr._ Thy oath to him! Rather to me ’twas sworn; Who raised thee up to swear, and made the Cæsar For thee to swear to? I can dispense your oaths: Or rather, since they were unjustly sworn, Justice dispenses them. ’Twould be a deed Truer than oaths to break the oaths ye swore. 580

_Bur._ Justice is still against you. ’Twas unjust To burn the will of Claudius; ’twas unjust To hide Britannicus, and to bring forth Your own son in his place: these things were wrongs, And these old wrongs would you redub with new. For when upon your wrongs Rome set her seal, Her choice made right of wrong, and we that swore, Swore not to Nero or Britannicus, But unto Rome and to her chosen Cæsar. 589

_Agr._ Nay, Seneca, I think, will scarce say thus.

_Sen._ Burrus is right; and were he wrong, your scheme But complicates the mischief.

_Agr._ Then ye desert me?

_Sen._ Nay, nay, in other ways I may do much. I may win Nero back.

_Agr._ The thought is folly; We fight against him.

_Sen._ Oh! ’tis open treason.

_Agr._ Eh! Why, I think my son’s ingratitude Is nought to this; he had the right to expect My favours: but for you, whom I chose out And set above the rest because I chose, Made you my friends because I chose, for you 600 There is no excuse. Had ye no motive, yet To see a woman in distress like mine, Wronged by her son, and injured as no woman Has ever been, should rouse a manly spirit, Ay, make a coward burn to do me right. But ye stand there aloof, and not a word. O good Seneca, Rememberest thou thy days in Corsica? The stoic letters of thine exile, writ With Naso’s pang, and that exuberant page 610 To me, at the first tidings of recall. I have it still, the letter, superscribed _Your most devoted slave._ Was not that felt? Had’st thou not cause? Now is the opportunity Of my distress, now I stand to lose all, All that those hard times strove for, all they won. The faith thou owest me, still may make all mine; Wilt thou deny it me?

_Sen._ Alas, good lady!

_Agr._ Alas! Is this the vein? Think you I come to hear Your lamentations? Ah! ye dare, I see, 620 Pity me while ye wrong me: but the truth Ye dare not say. Ye dare not say, Lo, we, Raised by your clemency, sworn to your service, Seeing your fair wind is changed, and there’s no hope Left to your following, do as all knaves do, Leave you to perish. Ah, all’s lost, all’s lost! [_Weeps._

_Bur._ (_to Sen._). Business attending me at home, I go. [_Going._

_Agr._ Thou goest! Then go, thou wooden counterfeit. Nay, I’ll be with thee yet. (_Exit Bur._) Pooh! let him go, An ugly, one-armed, upstart, sneaking knave: 630 A title seeker, a subservient villain. And thou, Philosopher! come, teach me thy philosophy. Tell me how I may be a dauntless Stoic And a most pitiful ass. Show me thy method Of magnanimity and self-denial, Which makes of slaves the richest men in Rome. Philosopher! Ay, thou that teachest youth Dishonesty, and coinest honied speeches To gloss iniquity, sand without lime. 640 Out, out upon thee! Thou miserable, painful, hackney-themed Botcher of tragedies, that deem’st thyself A new Euripides, a second Cato: A pedant rather, pander and murderer. I’ll let Rome know how pumpkin Claudius died; I’ll not be ashamed to say, ’twas I that spiced His fatal mushroom. Honest Seneca Stood by and smiled. True, true! I’ll be true yet; I’ll right Britannicus. I’ll tell the soldiers 650 What they should look for. Hear’st thou not their shouts? Seneca to the Tiber! the philosopher, The murderer to the Tiber! Fulvia, Fulvia!— Fulvia, I go. Come, I will leave; lead on. [_Exit._

_Sen._ And I to train the cub of such a dam! [_Exit._

SCENE · 2

_Room in Domitia’s house. Enter DOMITIA and SELEUCUS._

_DOMITIA._

’Tis a most shrewd surmise, but nothing more; I cannot listen to it. Though I hate My sister, and would take some risk to crush her, Yet must I set my foot on surer ground. My better engine is Poppæa’s dream, 660 Of which thou’st told me: I can build on that. Thou should’st be there, I think, to-night.

_SELEUCUS._

Ay, madam. I go at once.

_Dom._ Speak nothing waveringly.

_Sel._ Nay, madam.

_Dom._ ’Tis her fate to marry Cæsar.

_Sel._ My art needs no instruction.

_Dom._ It must be so.

_Sel._ It is so, madam.

_Dom._ See, thy prophecy Is that which should determine it. Go now. [_To door._ Her purse will satisfy thee well.

_Sel._ Yet once Ere I be gone, madam, I’ll make a stand To win thy credit. 670

_Dom._ Thou must show me cause. Thou say’st the Augusta plots against her son, Supports Britannicus, tampers with Burrus. How know’st thou this?

_Sel._ Why should I lie?

_Dom._ I think There may be some who make it worth thy while.

_Sel._ I would not meddle in this thing for money.

_Dom._ Why tell me then at all?

_Sel._ To win thy help.

_Dom._ To what?

_Sel._ To save the prince.

_Dom._ If thou’rt in earnest, Where is thy confidence? Assure me first, At least, of what thou say’st. Whence know’st thou this? 680

_Sel._ Fulvia, thy sister’s maid, rewards my love With many trifles: what she overhears I piece together.

_Dom._ What of this was heard, And how much pieced?

_Sel._ The Augusta sent all out, And spake long time in private with the prince. What passed I guess from this; that ere she left, Being risen to go, as Fulvia at the door Stood just without, she heard her voice most plainly Angrily entreating, saying, that though he doubted, Yet she would still with him regain her power: 690 If he held off yet he so far was right, As that ’twas best to speak with Burrus first.

_Dom._ And has she since seen Burrus?

_Sel._ I think she hath. He lately came from Seneca’s, and there The Augusta must have met with him.

_Dom._ What passed?

_Sel._ I know not yet. Fulvia will know and tell me.

_Dom._ But can’st thou trust her?

_Sel._ Ay, she hath no purpose. Whate’er she hears is mine.

_Dom._ Then make this thine. Her tampering with Britannicus is nought: But if she speak with Burrus, there is matter 700 That I can work on. Ay, if that should be— Make sure of that, and bring me word at once. To-night thou hast thy business; go and do it. Poppæa marries Cæsar.

_Sel._ Madam, I go. [_Exit._

_Dom._ Now, my good sister, if this tale is true, Thy fortune turns: I trample on thee now. Ay, if she have spoke with Burrus, then one word To Nero, and she is doomed. Patience and time Bring us all opportunities: we need But watch and wait. The way I least expected 710 She runs within the reach of my revenge. [_Exit._

SCENE · 3

_Room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA._

_POPPÆA._

My dream was strange: but why of all strange dreams Stands forth this dream, to say it hath a meaning? There lies the mystery: the dream were nothing. ’Tis such a dream as I have prayed to dream. ’Tis such a dream as an astrologer Must love to interpret. Nay, there’s but one way Seleucus can explain it.

_Enter Seleucus._

I looked for thee An hour ago: thou’rt late.

_SELEUCUS._

The seasons, lady, 720 Of divination are determinate By stars and special omens: ’tis our skill To observe their presage. The hour is favourable. Thy dream ...

_Pop._ Is’t good?

_Sel._ Beyond thy hope.

_Pop._ Then tell it.

_Sel._ Two thousand sesterces....

_Pop._ I have it here. See! I was ready for thee. [_Gives him a purse._

_Sel._ I thank thee, lady.

_Pop._ Now for thy message.

_Sel._ I have sought out thy dream By every means our art....

_Pop._ Mind not the means.

_Sel._ There is one interpretation clear throughout....

_Pop._ And that? 730

_Sel._ Thou shalt be wife unto two Cæsars.

_Pop._ Two! Now be Isis praised. Two! O, Seleucus, Thou’rt an astrologer. Two! this is life, Seleucus; this is life as well as fortune. What are the names?

_Sel._ There ends my message, lady.

_Pop._ ’Tis good so far, but stays unkindly. Search, I must know more. Above all things, the affair Is secret. (_Knocking heard._) I will send my servant to thee. Thou must be gone: our business will not suffer My husband stumbling on thee here. This way.

[_Exit Seleucus, being put out._

My dream was true: my hopes and schemes inspired Of heaven; yet this is far beyond them all. 741 Wife to two Cæsars; maybe, mother of Cæsars.

[_Noise at door._

To sit upon their rare, successive thrones, A manifold Augusta! Here’s my husband. What would he say? Two Cæsars, ay, two Cæsars!

[_Laughing heard without._

_Enter Otho._

_OTHO._

Good evening, love.

_Pop._ Who laughed with thee without?

_Oth._ Lucan. He walked with me from Cæsar’s supper.

_Pop._ Was Cæsar riotous?

_Oth._ Beyond all bounds.

_Pop._ See what you husbands are. You go abroad For pleasure, and when met among yourselves 750 Push all to excess, and never think how patiently Your wives must mope at home, and wait your coming. And when you do return, up to the door You bring your merriment; but at the door ’Tis left, and in you come, in solemn glumness, To vent the sour reaction of your revels Upon your housekeeper.

_Oth._ Enough, Poppæa; I would be cheered.

_Pop._ Then I will cheer thee, love. But what’s the matter?

_Oth._ Listen. Thou hast reproached me With going forth alone. What else could be? 760 Would’st thou consent to sit there at my side, Where I, a man, am oft ashamed to sit? Would’st thou, could’st thou be one among the women Of Cæsar’s fancy?

_Pop._ I spake not seriously.

_Oth._ See, but I do. I tell thee, love, this night Thou wert invited.

_Pop._ I!

_Oth._ He would have pressed it.

_Pop._ Who would have pressed it?

_Oth._ Cæsar.

_Pop._ What dost thou say?

(_Aside._) He treads on prophecy.

_Oth._ Knowing thy mind, And mine, I begged him for our friendship’s sake Urge me no further.

_Pop._ Thou did’st well, and he? 770

_Oth._ Again to-night he asked for thee. ’Twas this Which made me sad and thoughtful.

_Pop._ Why be sad?

_Oth._ The meaning, love, the meaning: thou must guess it.

_Pop._ The very reason, Otho, which thou urgest Against my going, is in truth the reason Why such as I should go. As Cæsar’s friend, Thou would’st do well to save him from the slough He daily sinks in.

_Oth._ Nay, but such a stake For such a flimsy hope.

_Pop._ I see a hope In the invitation. Otho, let us see 780 What may be done among his friends.

_Oth._ Poppæa, ’Tis generously thought, but ’tis a thing Must not be thought. Trust to my judgment, love. ’Tis Cæsar’s love of power that threats us here; He would have nought held from him. Thee I hold, And most because I know thou would’st be mine.

_Pop._ Then thou must trust me, Otho.

_Oth._ And so I do.

_Pop._ Why, I were well his match. Let us go in.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE · 4

_Room in the Palace. Enter AGRIPPINA and PALLAS._

_AGRIPPINA._