Part 3

Pallas, thy date is out: thou art dismissed; Thou goest from the court: yet what thou takest 790 May soften thy regrets. Thy shiny days Were not misspent, and thou may’st live like Cæsar. Farewell, we still are friends: the debt I owe I shall remember: ’twas thy power that first Gave root to mine: for thee, I think my favours Were once thy pleasure. If those days are gone, We can look time in the face; we have not wasted The days that flew: ’tis now with what remain Still to be careful. Friends and firm allies.

_Pal._ Ay, firm as ever.

_Agr._ Nay, though thou goest first, That is not much: even that I cannot save thee 801 Is sign that I am fallen ere thou could’st fall: A deeper, deadlier fall, unless indeed My wit can save me still.

_Pal._ Alas, dear queen, Fear makes this parting sad. But if there’s hope, ’Tis this, to gain thy son.

_Agr._ Ay, till our schemes be ripe; And even though Seneca betray me,—and that Is sure,—I fear not him. I know my son Better than he, and I shall win him yet. My plan is now to seem resigned to all: 810 I will pretend my purpose is to leave him, And fly from Rome to voluntary exile. ’Twill work upon his fear and duty both, To cut himself quite off from me, and all That goes with me. He will entreat me stay; And if I stay—

_Pal._ Ay, if this storm go by, The turns of time may offer us reprisals. At present use all means to gain thy son.

_Agr._ I shall. Farewell.

_Pal._ Be bold. The gods protect you. Farewell. 820

_Agr._ Farewell. [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter Tigellinus and Paris._

_TIGELLINUS._

Look from the window: thou wilt see ’tis true; He takes all with him.

_PARIS._

Nay, if this is all.

_Tig._ This much were all: and yet this caravan Is but the least of six; His monstrous Grace Brings up the rear.

_Par._ ’Tis nobly done of Cæsar.

_Tig._ ’Tis noble, say you, that the thief go quit With all his plunder from the house he plundered?

_Par._ Hark how the weasel can upbraid the fox! Good Tigellinus, there’s no need to grudge Pallas his scrapings; the sea is full of fish: 830 Rather thou should’st rejoice because thou seest Thy probable hap. Pray that as many mules, Litters and bags and bales, women and slaves May comfort thee.

_Enter Nero with Domitia._

_NERO._

Paris, what do you here?

_Par._ I comfort Tigellinus on the fate Of his predecessor.

Ner._ (_at window_). Gods! see what a train _Drags out the very bowels of the palace. No wonder my good mother’s man resigns With resignation.

_Tig._ Ha! ha!

_Ner._ I seek the Augusta. She late was here; go find her; say I wait her. 840

[_Exeunt Tigellinus and Paris._

_DOMITIA._

Through my discovery, Nero, thy good fortune Lifts thee a corner of the veil whereunder Thy mother plots. Be not thou now deceived To further trust. She is bent upon thy ruin.

_Ner._ Though it be true she urged Britannicus Even in those words, we lack the surety yet She spoke them in good faith.

_Dom._ O, there’s no doubt.

_Ner._ My mother is very deep, and often looks Far from her meaning. She will use this way To worm a confidence. 850

_Dom._ She did not then.

Ner. Yet must the boy have thought so, for you said That what she urged he took not all in kindness.

_Dom._ He bade her speak with Burrus.

_Ner._ The villainous brat!

_Dom._ Drive not the fault on him. Did Burrus waver, Nothing could save thee. And it seems thy mother Had hope to win him. She comes; now be thou firm. I will be gone. _[Exit._

_Ner._ (_solus_). Now she cannot deceive me.

_Enter Agrippina._

_Agr._ My son, thy mother comes at thy command.

_Ner._ O excellent mother!

_Agr._ What would’st thou with me, son? I come to hear, and yet I scarce am fit 860 For banter or abuse. I am ill to-day.

_Ner._ No wonder; ’tis you do too much. ’Twere better You spared yourself. Go rest; my business Will not cure headaches.

_Agr._ Speak whate’er it be.

_Ner._ Nay, if you’re ill—

_Agr._ My sickness will not pass. To-morrow I shall leave thee; that last grief Will soon engulph the rest: speak while thou may’st.

_Ner._ What’s this! leave me to-morrow?

_Agr._ I would spare thee That worst disgrace of sending me away. I go of myself. 870

_Ner._ What now?

_Agr._ ’Tis well resolved. I have been foolish; ’twas a mother’s fault, A tender fault: forget it, and hereafter Know my love better. If my presence bred Dislike, thy kinder mind may yet return When I am gone.

_Ner._ Why, what has happed, I pray?

_Agr._ Nothing. I have only come to see my error. I thought, ’twas I that gave him all....

_Ner._ Tut! tut! ’Tis the old story told a thousand times.

_Agr._ Ay, and forgot as oft. Thy constant wrongs, I think, have dug my grave. Dost thou remember What answer once I made the sorcerer 881 Who prophesied thy fortune? Thy son, he said, Shall reign, and kill his mother. Let him kill me, So that he reign, I cried. He spake the truth, But ’tis by grief thou slay’st me.

_Ner._ That old rubbish Were best forgotten.

_Agr._ Indeed, I had forgot it: But yesternight I dreamed it all again; A frightful dream: plain as I see thee now Stood’st thou before me thus, with angry words

[_She acts._

Mocking, until I wept for shame; but thou 890 Did’st only laugh the more. Then ran I to thee, And bared my breast, and cried, Kill me, O son! And thou fastened’st thy snaky eyes upon me, So that I could not see what thy hand did. But, oh! I knew. I heard thy weapon grate Leaving the scabbard, and a fiery pang Pierced through my heart. Ah!

_Ner._ (_aside_). Heavens, is she mad?— Mother, good mother, mother! 899

_Agr._ ’Twas nothing. Nay, where am I? I was come To hear thy speech. What is’t thou hast to say?

_Ner._ (_aside_). If this were trickery? Let the fact try.— ’Twas this: what speech you held the other morning With young Britannicus.

_Agr._ (_aside_). Ah! knows he that?— Thy spies are most alert. This time, at least, I praise their zeal: though thou art slow to thank me For my kind service done to thee and him.

_Ner._ Whether is it kinder, say you, to him to urge him To embrace the desperate plot, of which already He stood suspected, or more kind to me 910 To water this rebellion with the tears Of your insidious passion?

_Agr._ Your man’s a fool: I heard Your quarrel, and took pains to sound the boy.

_Ner._ Next you saw Burrus.

_Agr._ Well, and what said he?

_Ner._ Nay, that’s for you to tell.

_Agr._ ’Twas this: Britannicus Most truly said that nought could help his claim, Except the guards and Burrus: at which word I flew to Burrus, offered him the bait; And when he showed the scruple of his oath, Three words from me confirmed him. 920

_Ner._ If this were true!

_Agr._ How much you need me, Nero, will be plain When I am gone. Who has deceived you now? Who works this madness in you, to conceive That your disaster could be gain to me? Have you believed what angry words I spoke Were born of purpose, that my threats against you Were aught but passion? You count not the tears, The bitter, secret tears, for every pang Your wrongs have wrought in me; and bitterer far, The sharp remorse for each retaliation 930 Of speech provoked in anger. Let it end; ’Tis best I go.

_Ner._ See! if you had gone before We had never quarrelled; now there’s nought to lose By going, ’tis a quarrel that you go.

_Agr._ No quarrel, nay. ’Tis only this: I thought That in your love I held perpetual office. ’Tis not so. Now my time is out: I go As Pallas goes.

_Ner._ The sleek, extortionate Pallas, Dost thou defend the despicable Pallas?

_Agr._ I would be kind to friends; none will stand by you, 940 If you cast off those to whom most you owe. ’Twas first through him I came to seize the power That made you Cæsar. Look! you have lost a friend. Be wiser when I am gone.

_Ner._ I have good friends, Burrus and Seneca: I trust them both.

_Agr._ Cannot you read the cause why still they urge you To cast me off?

_Ner._ ’Tis the disgrace they feel To see the empire managed by a woman.

_Agr._ ’Tis the constraint they feel in all their actions Being overruled by me. Do you not see 950 They are my ministers, and you are ruled By them in all they counsel? Rid of me, They rule the world. Think you, when they have cast What was above them underneath their feet, They will have care to exalt what was below?

_Ner._ They both are honest men; you chose them well.

_Agr._ You are too trustful, Nero. As you love Your life, I say, be jealous of these men; These men that now would rule thee but to take The empire from thy hands. They may speak ill 960 Of me,—believe that if thou list,—but oh! If once they seem to encroach, delay not then; Hear no excuse nor explanation; strike, Kill them, I say, before they murder thee.

_Ner._ But, mother, Seneca loves me.

_Agr._ As a master Will love a pupil while he takes instruction. He’ll love you while you let him reign. Alas! I scarce dare leave you to him. You are too kind; Will shrink to use the sword as it is needful For one who rules to wield.

_Ner._ You cannot think 970 These men would serve me so.

_Agr._ What is my purpose? My life’s one object, my supreme ambition? Was’t not to raise thee where thou art, and now Is’t not to keep thee there?

_Ner._ So once I thought.

_Agr._ O think it yet. Look! there is none can love you, Nero, as I must love you; there’s not one Can guard you as I can. Have I not proved My power? While I am by you, it is yours.

_Ner._ Stay then.

_Agr._ O that it might be!

_Ner._ Thou shalt not go. Resign thy outward power; be in all else 980 As heretofore. Forget what I suspected. Be still my mother.

_Agr._ Alas!

_Ner._ Yea, I will have it.

_Agr._ It cannot be.

_Ner._ Why not?

_Agr._ Seneca, my son, Will not permit it.

_Ner._ Who is Seneca To say me nay?

_Agr._ Unless you join with me He will o’errule you.

_Ner._ He shall not o’errule me.

_Agr._ For that I’d stay. I would give up all else To stand by you: ay, and be happy so.

_Ner._ And so it shall be. Have thy private fortune, Remain in Rome.

_Agr._ But can you trust me, Nero? 990

_Ner._ Nay, I will never more suspect thee. Kiss me.

_Agr._ O, now you are good and kind. Tell me, who was it Did me this wrong?

_Ner._ It was Domitia told me. She spied on thee.

_Agr._ My sister! ha! you know not The grudge between us?

_Ner._ Yes, I know of that.

_Agr._ And not suspect her slander? Did she also Commit Britannicus?

_Ner._ She cast all blame On thee.

_Agr._ I feared she might have wronged the boy.

_Ner._ Is he, then, innocent?

_Agr._ I went so far In sounding him as even to risk my credit. 1000 Let not unjust suspicion add a weight To the just blame we bear. You must protect him. Promise me that.

_Ner._ I will ask Seneca.

_Agr._ Forgive, at least, his foolish indiscretion. He begged me make his peace. Now have I made it?

_Ner._ I’ll think no more of that.

_Agr._ My dearest son, The joy of a good action will be yours As well as mine. O, I am happy now— Indeed, most happy now.

_Ner._ Come then, dear mother.

[_Exeunt._

ACT · III

SCENE · 1

_The same. SENECA._

_SENECA._

Burrus was right. The more I think of it, The time has come that one or both must go; So the more dangerous first, then are we quit At once of all our mischief and disgrace. 1013 ’Tis past belief that she who plunged in crime To enthrone her son should now plot to dethrone him. There is no bridle for a wicked woman. Men may despise the venerable path Of virtue, and refuse the wholesome laws Of plain philosophy, but still they lean Towards reason, even in their wickedness. 1020 There’s an accountable consistency Found in their actions; but if once a woman Throw off, as men soon do, the first restraints Of credulous childhood; if her nature lack Tenderness, modesty, and that respect To self which sees in self a thing to guard From passion and caprice, and in the pleasure Of fitness finds a law,—if she lack that Or overpass it,—there’s no further bound: All things are mixed together; virtue, crime, 1030 Wisdom and folly. For they have a spirit Of infinite wrong genius. Rule, I say, Such women if you can; rule them with iron.

_Enter Nero._

_NERO._

Good-morrow, Seneca. Thou comest in time; I need thy counsel.

_Sen._ I am here to give it.

_Ner._ Then tell me: Where I have been lately threatened, Am I in danger? I will use thy judgment. Is’t needful for my safety to remove Britannicus?

_Sen._ I have well considered all. You must dismiss your mother. 1040

_Ner._ Not so, Seneca. She now resigns all power and sign of empire, And is content to live in quiet, retired With few attendants and contracted state.

_Sen._ She offered terms?

_Ner._ See, since she now concedes All reasonable claims, my duty towards her Patches our quarrel.

_Sen._ Whence this newborn trust?

_Ner._ She must remain. What of Britannicus?

_Sen._ He need not trouble you.

_Ner._ So said my mother. I had thought differently, and even had made Full preparation for his going hence. 1050 Would’st thou too bid me think there is no danger?

_Sen._ None, if your mother goes.

_Ner._ But nay, she stays.

_Sen._ That makes him dangerous.

_Ner._ Thy reason, Seneca?

_Sen._ I well can guess, Nero, your mother’s vein With you in private: but ’twould much divert Your inclination from it, could you know Her latest way with me.

_Ner._ What hath she said?

_Sen._ Will you now think she hath urged Burrus and me To set our honoured oaths and firm allegiance To you aside, as being unjustly sworn; 1060 To undo all she has done, and bring Britannicus Back to the people as Rome’s rightful heir?

_Ner._ I knew this, Seneca; and if ’twere meant, Where lies the danger?

_Sen._ True; but then she vows Plainly that, rather than resign her power, She will make known her crimes, nor spare herself, If in the implication of her ruin She may involve us too. Know you of that?

_Ner._ She could not mean it.

_Sen._ Certainly ’twas in passion Spoken, and fury: but ’tis such a thing 1070 As might be done in passion.

_Ner._ And what says Burrus?

_Sen._ He too would urge, as I, the Augusta’s exile.

_Ner._ Yet must she stay.

_Sen._ Nay, Nero, she must go.

_Ner._ I bade thee, Seneca, to counsel me: Call’st thou this counsel? ’Tis in the exigence Of such affairs that their necessity Precludes the true decision: this thou’st taught me: And that the man of counsel is but he Who handles best the circumstance, most gently Resolves the knot, not cuts it. In this difficulty Is there no course? 1081

_Sen._ I go not back from this; If both remain there’s none.

_Ner._ Is my life threatened?

_Sen._ Ay.

_Ner._ Then Britannicus must go, and shall go, As first I purposed.

_Sen._ Whither will you send him?

_Ner._ Far out of hearing of his claim. ’Tis not A trifling matter.

_Sen._ See now to the other extreme How you o’erleap the mean from wrong to wrong!

_Ner._ Such wrongs the title of my power condones. Shall I at the outset of a world-wide policy Stick at a household scruple, and for fear 1090 To do a private wrong forfeit the power Which makes me Cæsar? See my glory trip At a little ill because I will not level My safety with the welfare of the world?

_Sen._ But what you must not, that you cannot do.

_Ner._ Rather what Cæsar must do, that he may. Rome understands not empire yet: we learned Something of Herod.

_Sen._ O the injustice, Nero! The wrong! How! Will you sooner spill a life So innocent, your creditor in kindness, 1100 Than do disgrace to another, one so guilty As to deserve, sinking all exigency, The fearful penalty you now misplace? Think twice.

_Ner._ Why, if I think of it again, Is not thy error fourfold more than mine? This need is granted to all tyrannies, To slay pretenders, ay, and most of all Those of the family: but for a mother, The very Persian or the unrivalled Jew Would shrink from her dishonour. 1110

_Sen._ (_aside_). What to say? Being out of kinship ’twere the lesser blot— Yet there’s his innocence. Necessity Cannot suborn morality so far As such confusion,—nor the alternative May yet be shunned,—and when the best is wrong...

_Ner._ What thinkest thou?

_Sen._ Wait: it shall be my office To find some better means.

_Ner._ ’Twill be thine office To show in such a speech as I may make After his death, that, howsoe’er he died,— Which you shall know no more than shall my hearers,— ’Twas for the general good. 1121

_Sen._ Be counselled, Nero. This is not my advice.

_Ner._ Thou offerest none Which can be taken.

_Sen._ See, I have brought your speech Touching the Parthian war.

_Ner._ ’Tis long.

_Sen._ The matter Being very weighty, ’twill be looked for from you To say thus much: but if it seem too long, ’Tis so composed that with these brackets here, Skipped as you list, the speech is any length.

_Ner._ I thank thee. I shall need that other speech.

_Sen._ I pray you may not need it. My advice 1130 Is wait.

_Ner._ Is it? Stay—Seneca, dost thou think My mother was in earnest when she urged Treason on thee and Burrus? And dost thou think She fooled me in saying that she made proposal To Burrus but to sound his honesty?

_Sen._ Eh! with that tale she took you?

_Ner._ Is’t not true?

_Sen._ That true!

_Ner._ She was in earnest though in passion? Answer me.

_Sen._ Ay, she was.

_Ner._ I pray thee leave me. I shall not wait. [_Exit Seneca._ I stand alone. Such officers as share 1140 The functions of tyrannic government Cannot be looked to for a policy Of personal security; they lack The motive that abates the fear of crime. Britannicus must go, and ’tis my hand Must aim his death. I have a medicine Which he must drink for me, to save my life. To-night shall do it. But for my other enemy, My mother, who with such dissimulation Won me, spite of foreknowledge of her deeds, 1150 And judgment of her purpose—Ha! indeed; Seneca’s laughing-stock! Now, what I do Will much surprise her. If it kill her hope And prove my temper towards her, ’twill be well.

[_Exit._

SCENE · 2

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

_DOMITIA._

Come hither, Paris! Thou art my freedman.

_PARIS._

Ay, madam.

_Dom._ Hitherto Thou hast served me well.

_Par._ Ay, madam.

_Dom._ Would’st thou now Retrieve thy purchase money?

_Par._ Dost thou say Thou wilt restore me that for any service I can perform?

_Dom._ I do.

_Par._ But name the deed. 1160

_Dom._ Dost thou remember Crispus Passienus?

_Par._ Could I forget thy honoured husband, madam, That was my master?

_Dom._ Paris, thou hast a wife, And thy wife hath a sister..

_Par._ Ay.

_Dom._ How think’st thou Thy wife would love her sister, if that sister Supplanted her with thee, sowed seeds of hate, Contrived divorce, and when thou wert divorced Should marry thee herself?

_Par._ Madam, I know Thy wrong, and share thy hate.

_Dom._ That was not all.

_Par._ Not all?

_Dom._ Nay, listen, Paris: if I forget 1170 My kinship in my hatred, I have cause. I loved him, and have now no thought in life But to avenge his murder.

_Par._ Why! can’st thou think?...

_Dom._ Think! do I think? I cannot speak of it. If ’tis suspicion, be it so—and yet... Well, thou hast seen my heart—even were my sister Kind I should not forgive: but seeing she works Against me still to drive me from the court, I put my strength with Cæsar, to disbarrass The palace of this plague. Say wilt thou aid me? 1180

_Par._ The favour Cæsar shows me binds me, lady, To have no thought but his; and if his mother Misses his love, ’tis not made up by mine.

_Dom._ I’d have thee on my side whate’er I do. I have now contrived a scheme which hangs on thee To bring it home.

_Par._ I will do anything That will not touch my life.

_Dom._ She is hard to catch. Late, when she plotted with Britannicus, Though ’twas as clear as day, when brought to question She quite out-faced us all.

_Enter Servant._

_SERVANT._

Madam, Seleucus 1190 The astrologer would speak with you.