Chapter III: Part 3

_Pop._ ’Tis that you give my husband
The post in Lusitania which he begs.

_Ner._ ’Tis his. Would he were there.

_Pop._ My thanks.

_Ner._ I prithee
Call him not husband.

_Pop._ Ah, now I pierce this veil
Of generosity: why, when he goes
I must go with him.

_Ner._ Eh! if that’s the case
I grant not his commission.

_Pop._ ’Tis a promise.

_Ner._ I had a promise once.

_Pop._ That was conditioned.

_Ner._ And what condition have I not fulfilled?

_Pop._ Heavens! is’t forgotten?

_Ner._ Say, what have I lacked in?

_Pop._ Or did I dream ’twas promised me? ’Twas this; 1960
Marriage.

_Ner._ By Juno, I will marry thee.
But come to Baiæ.

_Pop._ Nay; thine oath is vain
Upon the point of honour. There are things
Idle and ceremonial, and that count
In love as nought, but which alone can make
Divorce from Otho honourable, nay,
To me, I say, possible. Till the day
Octavia is divorced I am Otho’s wife,
Ay, and am well content to be: he loves me,
And lacks in nothing that a gentlema. 1970
And lover should observe. I sometimes think
That you mistake...

_Ner._ Ah!

_Pop._ But to mistake in that!
Seem to forget! I fly.

_Ner._ O most impatient!
I have yet no pretext.

_Pop._ Nay, nor ever will.
Besides, your mother rules: she would not suffer it.
I have no desire to taste her dishes.

_Ner._ Hush!
They come.

_Enter through the door Petronius, Tigellinus and
Anicetus._

Where be the others?

_TIGELLINUS._

They have taken
Cæsar’s gracious permission, and gone home.
’Tis late.

_Ner._ Why, who art thou to say ’tis late?
Be seated, be seated. I’ll tell thee, Anicetus, 1980
More of my scheme anon; but for the present
We keep Minerva’s feast at Baiæ; thither
Must thou convey the court. Combine high pomp
With masterly dispatch; our games shall reach
The limit of invention, and ourselves
Take part. To thee I say, come not behind.

_ANICETUS._

Grant me the means to be great Cæsar’s herald,
I’ll make a wonder that shall fetch the nymphs
From their blue depths in ravishment to see
His ships upon the waters. 1990

_Ner._ I shall be liberal,
And give thee full instruction. (_To Pop._) Think, my love,
What could be pleasanter, now spring is come,
Than to confide our vexed and careful spirits
To nature’s flush; to leave our memories
With the din and smoke of Rome, and force a pageant
Upon the lazy mirror of the bay,—
One to make Venus jealous, and confound
The richness of the season. Thou dost not guess
What I can do. Say, would’st thou miss the seeing
Of my magnificence? 2000

_Enter Paris._

_Pop._ See, here is Paris.

_Ner._ He comes to make us merry. The gods defend us!
He has seen a ghost.

_Pop._ He has something to deliver.

_Ner._ Patience! I know his mood: he will be tragic;
And you shall see the severe and tearful muse
Outstride her dignity, and fall along.
(_To Paris_) Begin!

_PARIS._

Most mighty and most honoured Cæsar,
I cannot speak for shame.

_Petr._ Why, man, thou’st spoken.

_Ner._ He opens well.

_Petr._ Like the nurse in Seneca’s tragedy.

_Par._ The tale I bring, my lords, is little suited
To make your sport.

_Petr._ No?

_Ner._ This is excellent. 2011

_Pop._ I think he is in earnest.

_Ner._ ’Tis his art.

_Par._ I am a messenger now, and no actor,
Sent by your royal aunt Domitia
To unmask a thing, which, though the gods be praised
That in discovery have wrought prevention,
Is yet a damnèd plot....

_Ner._ (_rising_). A plot, a plot! [_All rise._
Stand off; stand off! a plot, thou say’st? a plot?

_Pop._ (_aside to Nero_). Pray heaven this prove not now
some fresh contrivance
Of the empress. 2020

_Ner._ Stand all aside. Art thou in earnest?

_Par._ Pardon me, Cæsar. Did this plot concern
Less than thy life...

_Ner._ My life! by all the gods,
Speak but his name who dares.

_Par._ Will Cæsar’s ear
Grant me indulgence?

_Ner._ Speak, fool, or thou diest.

_Par._ The matter is disclosed by certain freedmen
Engaged by the empress.

_Ner._ Ah!

_Pop._ (_to Nero_). Said I not so?

_Ner._ Be this proved, ’tis the last.

_Pop._ (_to Nero_). Ay, till the next.

_Ner._ Paris, as thou would’st live another moment,
Speak now but truth.

_Par._ (_shows a paper_). See here the evidence.
If Cæsar read this, ’twill give certain colour 2030
To worst suspicion. Here are writ the names.

_Ner._ Read me the names.

_Par._ Rubellius Plautus.

_Ner._ Ha!
Enough. I know ’tis true the villain’s blood
Hath from Augustus equal claim with mine.
Who else?

_Par._ Balbillus and Arruntius Stella,
With Fænius Rufus, and your royal mother,
And some who ’scape the crime disclosing it.

_Ner._ I’ll have their lives to-night.

_Tig._ I pray now, Cæsar,
Grant me this order.

_Anic._ Or me.

_Ner._ Nay, who are ye?
Go, Tigellinus, fetch me Burrus hither. 2040

_Par._ I have his name set down with the conspiracy.

_Ner._ Burrus?

_Par._ ’Tis question of him, nothing certain.

_Ner._ Escort him here unarmed; I’ll speak with him.

_Tig._ Cæsar, I go. [_Exit._

_Ner._ Give me thy paper, sirrah.

What have we here? [_Reads._

_Petr._ (_to Servt._) Call me my servant there.

_Anic._ Wilt thou go?

_Petr._ Ay, ’tis sadly out of place,
This business at this time. Look, Anicetus,
Thou’rt new to Cæsar’s suppers; let me tell thee
There’s ever something wrong. See how he takes it!
Mad, mad! 2050

_Ner._ (_aside_). I see. Plautus. This hits my life:
Britannicus being dead, that hope cut off,
She looks to Plautus’ claim: and I to be
Poisoned or what appears not: yet I doubt not
Poisoned. ’Tis found in time. Now ’tis plain war;
The strongest wins. Poison! ’Tis life for life.
Nay, maybe already I have swallowed down
Some death-steeped morsel; ay, this very night
Have tasted of it, and the subtle drug
Runs in my veins concocting: my spirit sickens,
I faint and tremble. What is it?

_Anic._ (_advancing_). Cæsar, a word. 2060

_Ner._ What would’st thou say?

_Anic._ (_to Ner._) ’Tis I can do this thing.
None that be here lack will: I have the means.
’Twere easy, would you give me the command.

_Ner._ What would be easy?

_Anic._ Why, this thing that hangs,
Which you for Rome so wisely, and for you
Rome and your friends have wished. If but your foe
Step on a ship of mine, I’ll beg my death
If it touch land again. We go to Baiæ,
And there upon the hazard of the sea
May this disorder sleep.

_Enter Burrus with Tigellinus._

_Ner._ (_to Anic._) I thank thy zeal; 2070

There is no need; give way.—Burrus, thou’rt called
Upon a stern occasion. Is’t not death
To any man or woman whosoe’er
That plots to murder Cæsar?

_BURRUS._

Death deserved.

_Ner._ Here be the names of some who thus offend.
Thine is amongst them: of thine honesty
I am too well persuaded to demand
More proof than this, that thou do execute
All these conspirators to-night.

_Bur._ —Cæsar
Is not mistaken in me. Let me see 2080
The names. [_Takes paper and reads._

_Par._ (_aside_). Now may Jove blast the general’s wits,
Else we be lost.

_Petr._ (_to Anic._) Take my advice. (_going_).

_Anic._ (_to Petr._) Nay, nay,
I’ll see it out. [_Exit Petronius._

_Bur._ (_aside_). What’s this? Why, ’tis mere nonsense.—
What evidence hath Cæsar of this plot?

_Ner._ Confession of the traitors. Paris brings it
Fresh from Domitia.

_Bur._ Now, with your permission,
I’ll question Paris.

_Ner._ Question! why, is’t not plain?
Question is treasonous; and thou to question,
Whose name the black suspicion pricks! wilt thou
Question?—who hast the deepest cause of all 2090
For sure conviction? Is’t not horrible
That I, to whose security the empire
Looks for stability, should most of all
Live an uneasy and precarious life,
And find no remedy because my ministers,
Who should be over-zealous to protect me
Even from imagined danger, shut their eyes
And ears to plots and perils which I hear
My slaves and women prate of?

_Bur._ Cæsar, the matter
Demands inquiry. That you have been much wronged
Is clear: by whom is doubtful. Let me pray 2101
You save your judgment from reproach of haste,
And hear what I advise.

_Ner._ Speak; I will hear.
Speak.

_Bur._ First dismiss the company: ’tis ill
To have had this audience.

_Ner._ Friends, you are all dismissed.
Begone without a word: this business presses.

_Pop._ (_to Nero_). Have some one with you, Nero; are you advised?
Keep a guard while you can.

_Ner._ (_to Pop._) Nay, have no fear.

_Pop._ I would not trust him. Did not Paris say
His name was with the rest?

_Ner._ (_to Pop._) Be not afraid.— 2110
Good night, my lords. (_To Bur._) Shall Paris stay?

_Bur._ No, none.

_Ner._ Paris, await without; the rest go home.

[_Anic. Tig. and Par. go out: Poppæa tarries._

_Pop._ (_to Nero_). Oh, do not trust this man!

_Ner._ (_to Pop._) He’s not my enemy.

_Pop._ I fear to leave thee with him.

_Ner._ Have no fear.

_Pop._ Could he not kill thee?

_Ner._ Nay, nay.

_Pop._ Oh, he will.
Alas! alas! Oh! oh! [_Faints._

_Ner._ Why, thou must go.

[_Exit Nero carrying out Poppæa._

_Bur._ (_solus_). Be hanged! the fool’s gone too.

_Re-enter Nero._

_Ner._ Now, Burrus, now.
Art thou my friend?

_Bur._ —We are alone, and while
There’s none to hear, you must excuse a soldier
If he speak plainly, Cæsar.

_Ner._ Indeed, Burrus, 2120
Thou art my only friend; speak as a friend.

_Bur._ I have heard it said the German warriors,
Meet o’er their cups, and, hot with wine, resolve
Matters of state; but ere they put in act
Their midnight policy, they meet again
In morning hours to see if sober sense
Approve what frenzied zeal inspired. The custom
Has been applauded. Chance has given to you
The one half of the method: use the other.

_Ner._ I am not drunk. 2130

_Bur._ Such wandering judgment, Cæsar,
Asks such excuse.

_Ner._ My judgment wanders not.
I am cool. My face is flushed?...

_Bur._ How will this look
If, sitting here at table, at a breath
Of hearsay you commit to instant death
Your mother and four noble citizens,
With others of less note?

_Ner._ Choose I the time?
Shall the conspirators be pardoned then
’Cause Cæsar sups? or say Cæsar must fast
And touch no wine, lest when his blood be warm
Some treasonous practice creep into his ears, 2140
And they who would befriend conspiracy
May point suspicion on his judgment! Now
Is a good hour for treason; Cæsar sups,
And must not credit it.

_Bur._ I do not blame
Your feast.

_Ner._ No more then: let it be to-night.

_Bur._ What! on a charge unproven?

_Ner._ Thou may’st prove it.

_Bur._ See, you acquit me; why not then the rest?

_Ner._ Acquit my mother! would’st thou persuade me, Burrus,
She can be acquitted?

_Bur._ Of the deeds she has done
She is guilty; for this action charged against her,
It is not hers.

_Ner._ Oh, more, much more is hers 2151
Than thou dost dream. The crime men charge on me,
My brother’s death, Burrus, indeed, I swear,
Though thou believe me not, yet if my part
In that were separate and weighed ’gainst hers ...
I would not tell thee... Oh, I had been happy had I
But heard thee then.

_Bur._ Your peace even now as much
Hangs on good counsel. You are hot: be guided, Cæsar.

_Ner._ Nay, now thou’rt changed, thou’rt wrong: thou goest round
To the other side. If thou would’st give the advice
I need, I’d take it gladly. Listen, Burrus: 2161
I have another secret; if I tell thee
Thou may’st befriend me. I will tell thee. Hark!
’Tis this: I fear my mother; I cannot sound
Her heartlessness; my terror shames the shows
And feeble efforts of my trust and love.
I have read her eyes—
Oh, there’s no tenderness, no pious scruple
Writ in my favour there; nothing but hate.
To think that I am her son but whets to fierceness
Her fury, and her hellish plots are laid 2171
More recklessly and safely that she deems
I am not knit of that obdurate nerve
To sear the tender place of natural love.
I would not do it, Burrus, though I fear her
And hate her, as I must; but let it end
Ere it be worse. I pray thee do it, Burrus.

_Bur._ The cause of fear is magnified by terror:
The present circumstance were amply met
By Agrippina’s exile, which I urge, 2180
As ever, now. But let such sentence rest
On proven crime.

_Ner._ Oh, thus were ne’er an end.
Done, we stand clear.

_Bur._ Thus done, ’twere a foul crime:
And if you have found remorse in what before
Was schemed in fear and haste, consider, Cæsar,
If you would thank me for subserviency
Did I obey; for your sake I refuse.

_Ner._ Eh!

_Bur._ I refuse.

_Ner._ I have other friends.

_Bur._ So be it.
Take my demission. But remember, Cæsar,
That he who fills my place, handles the power 2190
That holds you up; he that hath strength to help
May find the will to hurt you.

_Ner._ I meant not that.
I trust thee, Burrus: I’ll be guided by thee.
What wilt thou do?

_Bur._ The wisest course is thus:
To-morrow Seneca and I will go
With chosen witnesses to Agrippina,
And lay the charge. If she draw quit of it,
Well; but if not, I promise that her place
Shall not win favour of me.

_Ner._ Dost thou promise?

_Bur._ I promise that.

_Ner._ And if there be a doubt, 2200
Thou’lt wrest it to my side?

_Bur._ I promise that.

_Ner._ ’Tis death.

_Bur._ Ay, death.

_Ner._ If that be thy last word
I am free. I would I had more such friends as thou.
But bring it not back; take all my power. Thou saidst
I had no cause for fear?

_Bur._ What should you fear?

_Ner._ I think thou’rt right.

_Bur._ Now, Cæsar, I will leave you.
Your spirits are much moved.

_Ner._ Indeed I swear
I am not moved. There was no need to blame
My supper, Burrus.

_Bur._ Nay, I blamed it not.

_Ner._ I am not sensible to wine as others. 2210
Of all I meet there’s none, no, not the best,
Can eat and drink as I. There’s something, Burrus,
In that. I think if I, who rule the world,
Could not enjoy my wine, that were a blemish
Which scorn might hit.

_Bur._ I never blamed your supper.

_Ner._ Hadst thou been there, thou would’st have praised it well.
I have learned much lately in these things. Petronius,
Ay, he’s the man—I’m blessed in this Petronius.
Thou know’st him?

_Bur._ Ay, and would not keep his hours.
’Tis late, to bed.

_Ner._ Well, Burrus, I’ll to bed. 2220
But thou must sup with me. I’d gladly have thee
One of our party. I shall tell Petronius.

_Bur._ Cæsar, good night.

_Ner._ By heaven, I had forgot;
Where did I leave Poppæa? I remember.
Good night, Burrus, good night. [_Exit._

_Bur._ Now may brave Bacchus
Reclaim the field; for me, I’ll gather up
This quenched brand, and be off. What must men think
Of Cæsar, who would fetch him with such trash?
The Augusta marry Plautus! Master Paris
For this will need his wit to save his skin. [_Exit._

SCENE · 5

_A small room in Agrippina’s house. Enter AGRIPPINA
and FULVIA._

_AGRIPPINA._

My days are weary, Fulvia. Know you not 2231
Some art to make time fly? another month
Of prison and neglect would kill me quite.

_FULVIA._

Is’t not the change more than the solitude
Vexes your majesty?

_Agr._ Nay, I was never made
For isolation, and even by my friends
I am utterly forsaken.

_Ful._ Junia Silana
Was very constant, tho’ we have not seen her
Now for four days.

_Agr._ Bah! she’s my foe. I wronged her
That way a woman ne’er forgives. ’Twas I 2240
Broke off her match with Sextius, you remember.

_Ful._ Your true friends dare not come: they stand aloof,
Watching the time to do you service, madam.

_Agr._ You speak of Pallas: there’s none else.

_Ful._ The lot
Of late befallen your majesty is such
As all our sex have borne, who have not raised
Nor much demeaned themselves beyond the rest.

_Agr._ True; but ’twas never mine; I made escape.
They that would lock us up in idleness,
Shut us from all affairs, treat us as dolls 2250
Appointed for their pleasure; these but make it
The easier for a woman with a will
To have her way. Life lacks machinery
To thwart us. Had I been a man, methinks
I had done as well, but never with the means
I have used. Nay, nay, ’tis easy for a woman,
Be she but quick and brave, to have her will.

_Enter Servant, who speaks to Fulvia, and she to
Agrippina._

Burrus and Seneca you say! Admit them.
Fulvia, here’s one apiece: make your own choice;
I’ve none, and can be generous. Pray come in. 2260

_Enter Burrus and Seneca with two others._

Come in, my lords, come in. You are very welcome.
Look, Fulvia, now if Mercury have not heard
Our prayers and sent us noble visitors!
Pray you be seated. Alas, in this poor house
I fear I cannot show you the reception
You and your gallant followers deserve.
’Tis not what thou’rt accustomed to at home,
Seneca, I know: pardon it. Thou lookest cold.
Come near the fire: pray heaven this bitter weather
May not have touched thy chest. A Gallic winter!
I can remember no such fall of snow 2271
In March these twenty years; but looking back,
I find one noted in my journal then.
How goes your health, my lords?

_SENECA._

Well, thank you, madam.

_Agr._ I am very glad: your visit is well meant;
It cheers me much.

_BURRUS._

The truth is, madam, we come
At Nero’s order.

_Agr._ Ha! then I strike you off [_Rising._
My list of friends again. I thought as much;
I wondered how you dared me this affront
In my last poor retreat, here where I sit 2280
Alone and friendless, in the worst disgrace
Woman can suffer;—ay, and caused by you.
But learn that, if nought else, this house is mine;
If ’tis so small that it can welcome little,
It can exclude the more. At Cæsar’s order
Ye have forgot your manners, now at mine
Resume them. Ye have done his hest, begone!
Begone!

_Sen._ I pray you, madam, hear the message;
We may not leave without delivering it.
Burrus will speak it.

_Agr._ Oh—Burrus speak it. 2290
If Burrus speak, the affair is mighty black.
There’s none like him to break an ugly business.

[_Sitting._

Hey! Well, we have nought to do, so let us hear
The last of the court. Octavia’s divorce?

_Sen._ Believe me, lady, I feel much aggrieved
In all that hurts you here.

_Agr._ Stranger than fiction.
Now what’s the matter?

_Bur._ There has been information
To Cæsar of plots against his life, the which
The informers charge on you. This the chief item,
That you have entered with Rubellius Plautus 2300
Into conspiracy to set him up
In Nero’s place, and to dethrone your son.
I come with Seneca and these witnesses
To hear the answer, which your majesty
No doubt hath very ready, and accordingly
To acquit you of the charge.

_Agr._ —Excellent!
Now, Seneca, ’s thy turn; or will these gentlemen?
Fulvia, we have depositions to be made:
Fetch pens and paper; all shall be in order.

_Sen._ Madam, remember on what past occasions
Cæsar hath shown suspicion, and believe, 2311
Whate’er your innocency, there is cause
To make it clear.

_Agr._ Thy prudence, Seneca,
Is vanity, not kindness; spare it, pray.
Here is your paper, gentlemen: I’ll give you
Matter for Cæsar’s reading. Tell me first
Who’s my accuser?

_Bur._ There are two—the first
Junia Silana, the other is your sister
Domitia: they bring forth as evidence
The informers, certain freedmen, Atimetus, 2320
Iturius, and Calvisius, who affirm
That you have lately been on terms with Plautus,
Stirring him up to make an enterprise
Against the state; that you, by marrying him
(Who by the mother’s side may claim a line
As rightly from Augustus as doth Nero),
Might reinstate yourself, dethrone your son,
And bring disaster to the commonwealth.
That is the charge, of which we are come to hear
The refutation, not to press the count. 2330

_Agr._ Pah! You’re a brace of idiots, if ye think
This needs refuting. Who’s Silana, pray,
That if she speak, the very bonds of nature
And heaven must be repealed to give her credit,
Saying a mother plots to kill her son?
I marvel not that she, being childless, dares
Avouch such madness, never having known
How near the affections of all mothers are,
Nor that a mother cannot shift her love
Like an adulteress;—nay, nor do I wonder 2340
That she should find among her freedmen those,
Who, having in luxury spent all their substance,
Will for the promise of the old lady’s purse
Sustain the accusation: but that for this
I should be seriously held suspect
Of the infamy of parricide, or Cæsar
Of giving ear to it, this I marvel at.
As for Domitia, I would thank my sister
Even for her jealousy, were but the strife 2349
One of good will and kindness towards my Nero.
But now she wastes her time with her man Paris,
Composing as ’twere fables for the stage.
Let her go back to Baiæ and her fishpools;
They kept her trifling spirit well employed,
When by my efforts Nero’s first adoption,
Proconsular authority, consulate,
And other steps to empire were procured.
Are ye now answered?—
Or is there any can be brought to show
That I have practised with the city cohorts, 2360
Corrupted the loyalty of the provinces,
Solicited the freedmen to rebellion?
Or to what purpose think ye? Had Britannicus
Been Cæsar, then I grant I might have lived;
But if ’tis Plautus, or whoever else
Should get the power, how should I lack accusers
To charge me, not with words escaped in passion,
But deeds and crimes—crimes—ay, Seneca, crimes,
Of which I could not hope to be acquitted
Save as a mother by her son? And ye 2370
Think I shall here defend myself to you!
Send Cæsar to me. By the gods I swear
I’ll be revenged on all who have had a hand
In this most cowardly and senseless plot.
I wait him here: tell him that to none other
Will I resolve this matter.

_Bur._ Be content
To say so much in form, that our report
Suffice for your acquittal.

_Agr._ I bid you go.

_Bur._ Cæsar shall hear your message.

_Sen._ Madam, we go.

_Agr._ Ay, go, good fellows; though ye have roused my passion, 2380
Your coming here hath cheered me wondrously.
Nay, if ye have ever such another matter,
Bring it again; be not abashed, but come;
Or send your wives, and those two gentlemen,
Whose names I know not. My lords, your humble servant.

[_Exeunt Burrus and Seneca and two Gentlemen._

Plautus! now is it possible I was wrong
Not to have thought of Plautus? No, I laugh,
’Tis merely laughable. At forty-five
To marry a pretender; and Plautus too!
He would not have me. Fulvia, do you think 2390
That Plautus wants to marry me? Ha! ha!
Is it my beauty, think you, or my virtue,
Or my good fortune tempts the stoic? Oh,
Domitia, oh, you are dull. I cannot fear
This plot. We shall retire with more than honour.
’Twas strange, I think, that Pallas was not struck;
His name escaped.

_Ful._ There is ample reason, madam.
They say that in his house he holds such caution
As not to speak before his slaves. His orders
Are given by nod and sign, or if there’s need 2400
He writes: there’s none can say they have heard him speak.

_Agr._ May good come of it. ’Twould be hard indeed
If they should exile Plautus for a fear
Lest I should marry him. That were a fate
Of irony. Why, give the man his choice
Of marrying me and exile, would he not
Fly to the pole? Poor Plautus! marry Plautus!

_Both._ Ha! ha! ha! he! he!

_Enter Nero. Agrippina is seated._

_NERO._

I find you merry, mother; the gods be praised
That you deny the impeachment.

_Agr._ Really, Nero,
Burrus’ memory is getting very short
If he said I denied it. I did not.

_Ner._ You did not?

_Agr._ Nay, I’d not be at the pains.

_Ner._ Called you me hither?

_Agr._ Ay, you seem misled.
I guess who ’tis. But let that pass. I hoped
I might advise you privately; I knew
You would not wish it known. Now, was I wrong?

_Ner._ Do you deny what is affirmed against you?

_Agr._ No, son: for if you wished to take my life,
Why should I rob you of this grand pretence? 2420
Yet since you cannot, and the charge itself
But moves my laughter, as you overheard,
My only wish is you should now retire
With dignity, and act as Cæsar ought.

_Ner._ (_aside_). This then is added to my shames.

_Agr._ What say you?
Fulvia, await without. [_Exit Fulvia._] Who brought this to thee?

_Ner._ Paris.

_Agr._ The player! when?

_Ner._ Last night at supper.

_Agr._ Tell me, didst thou believe it? is it possible?
Thou didst! Whence gottest thou thy wits I wonder;
Certain they are not mine, no, nor thy father’s:
I think they came of Claudius by adoption. 2431
Dost thou believe it still?

_Ner._ Whate’er I have done
Was on advice.

_Agr._ A pious caution truly.
Is this thy trust? Yet, yet I must forgive thee.
See, I was angered. Nay, ’twas not thy judgment:
I know who leads. But for these foolish women
I sentence exile.

_Ner._ Sentence whom to exile?

_Agr._ The two devisers. Yet I think my sister
Is harmless; but the other, that Silana—

_Ner._ Silana must be banished? 2440

_Agr._ Judge her, Nero,
When thou hast heard. She and thy aunt Domitia
Have been the two who, in my sad retirement,
Have visited me most. Day after day
They have made a show of kindness, finding joy
In my disgrace, to view it; and have but left me
To try this trick.

_Ner._ (_aside_). ’Tis plain I have been fooled.

_Agr._ For those that brought the tale, thou knowest that they
Must taste the penalties they sought to inflict;
That thou must know; but ’tis not all. The acquittal
Of those accused will not be full without 2450
Some honour shown them. Best among the names
Stand Fænius Rufus and Arruntius Stella,
Who may have city posts: gentle Balbillus,
Who has long deserved it, must be paid at last
With a proconsulate. For myself, thou knowest
I have taken all disgrace so patiently
That I expect some boon, though yet I fear
To ask; but when I have seen my slandered friends
Honoured, I’ll write it thee.

_Ner._ I shall be quick
To punish and to make amends. ’Tis just 2460
Towards Burrus, I should tell you from the first
He took your part.

_Agr._ What could he else? Now, Nero,
I have done: go home, and there resolve the matter
With common sense; take Burrus into counsel
As to what penalties and what promotions
Shall be distributed. Before the people
Remember that some feeling must be shown,
And anger for effronteries attempted
Against your majesty. Now go, the affair
Has somewhat tired me.—Nay, touch me not; farewell. 2470

_Ner._ I see you are right; farewell.

_Agr._ I have more advice,
Which I will write to thee. [_Exit Nero._
Excellent this—I have not had my way
Thus for a long long while: ay, now is my time
To strike. I’ll venture with a letter to him
And claim my boon, that he dismiss Poppæa.
There’s much to say on that which may seem aimed
More at his good than mine; and if she have plunged
In this false step, his vanity being touched 2479
May shake his liking. I will do it at once. [_Exit._

SCENE · 6

_A room in the Palace. Enter NERO and POPPÆA._

_NERO._

All for thy sake was planned, and now my pleasure
In scheming thine is fled; for what is Baiæ,
And what Minerva’s feast, blue skies and seas,
Or games, or mirth, or wine, or the soft season,
If thou deny me? Prithee say thou’lt come.

_POPPÆA._

Nay, I’ll not go.

_Ner._ Thou wilt not?

_Pop._ Nay, I cannot.

_Ner._ Cannot to Cæsar?

_Pop._ Prove me then thou’rt Cæsar,
And not a ward.

_Ner._ A ward!

_Pop._ I said a ward.
May I not see thee vexed? ’Tis what men whisper,
Who dare not vex thee. Well, thy mother’s child,
So much that at her beck thou forfeitest 2491
Empire and liberty.

_Ner._ Wouldst thou enrage me!
What dost thou mean, Poppæa?

_Pop._ Deny not that:
If ’tis not that hinders our marriage, then
The case, I fear, blackens. I, who can smile
At that, must weep another cause. I’ll think
Thou’rt tired of me.

_Ner._ Now by what sign?

_Pop._ Maybe
Thou hast seen a better beauty, and repented
The promise given to me.

_Ner._ O treason, treason!

_Pop._ Thinkest my blood unworthy of alliance 2500
With thine—tho’, truth, my ancestors have triumphed.

_Ner._ Who dares that lie shall bleed.

_Pop._ Or that our bed
Is not like to be blest.

_Ner._ The fruitful gods
With all their oracles avert the omen.

_Pop._ Or that I urge my marriage for advancement;
And thou, doubting my love, pressest denial
To proof of faith.

_Ner._ Ay, that is it; thou’st hit it.

_Pop._ Or that I, once thy wife, would cross thy mother,
Divulge her crimes, the hate the senate bear her,
And last, though that’s well known, how she hates thee.

_Ner._ Speak of this once for all, then let the jest
Be dead.

_Pop._ Nay, ’tis no jest, for Agrippina 2512
Will never love a daughter who loves thee.
Restore me to my husband. I were happier
In any place, howe’er remote from Rome,
Where thy disgrace and wrongs can but be spoken,
Not seen and felt as here. See why I go.

_Ner._ Poppæa, since I have never hid from thee
My quarrel with my mother, thou mayst know
It draws to end.

_Pop._ Oh, is’t the turn for kindness? 2520
Hath she been kind again? Why, ’tis deception.
When her plot failed she cast it off, and now
Exults: ’tis her fresh confidence seems kind.

_Ner._ ’Twas not her plot. Or else I’d rather think
She put the snare to catch my foolish aunt,
Who blindly took the bait.

_Pop._ Then she pretended
Treason, that she might better hurt her sister:
And yet can win thy trust!

_Ner._ Nay, heaven forbid;
I trust her not.

_Pop._ She hates me.

_Ner._ Nay, her kinship
Is jealous for Octavia; but...

_Pop._ Ah, true! 2530
To kill one’s husband, plot against one’s son,
Should leave unsatisfied some tender feelings
To spend upon a step-child. Why, she knows
Those arts which manage you would not gull me,
A woman not her child. Her whole design
Is bent to thwart our marriage; and she will.
I know it.

_Ner._ I swear that were this proved against her,
Came it to a question ’twixt herself and thee,
Which to take, which to lose, then not a moment
Would I delay: the blow I have often sworn 2540
To strike should fall.

_Enter Messenger._

_MESSENGER._

A letter from the Augusta. [_Exit._

_Pop._ Now, as she loves me, this is mine.

_Ner._ Not so.

_Pop._ Then as thou lovest me.

_Ner._ Well.

_Pop._ (_reading_). Ho! ho! ho! ho!
Now shines the sun at noon.

_Ner._ What is’t?

_Pop._ I read?

_Ner._ Read then.

_Pop._ (_reads_). _To her dearest son. Ha! ha! ha!
When last we met thou wilt remember to have confessed
some shame for wrong done to me. The wrong I forgive,
but eagerly seize on thy sorrow to ask of thee, in regard
for thine own happiness, this only favour. ’Tis my earnest
prayer and advice that thou dismiss Poppæa._ 2551

_Ner._ Ha! writes she so?

_Pop._ Attend, the reasons follow.
(_Reading._) _Beware of her: nor think that I grudge thee
the happiness which thou now findest in her. Marriage
with her can lead only to thy misery. I know her well._
Now hear my character.

_Ner._ Give me the letter.

_Pop._ _She is vain, deceitful, self-seeking, and, being by
nature cold, hath the art to assume the mask of passion;
and ’neath the show of virtue designedly conceals her
wickedness and mischief. She loves thee no better than
she loves Otho._ 2561

_Ner._ Give me the letter.

_Pop._ Nay, one sentence more.
_Believe a woman sees further than a man, since to her eyes
beauty is no veil._
She grants me beauty then. [_Gives letter to Nero._

_Ner._ (_reading_). ’Tis so, ’tis so. Ye gods! and thou
wert right.
Poppæa, this is the end. Come not to Baiæ.
Wait my return.

_Pop._ What’s now to do, I pray?

_Ner._ Ask not: when I return I shall be free.
We will be married.

_Pop._ Will you banish her? 2570

_Ner._ Ask nothing.

_Pop._ From her exile still her plottings
Will reach to Rome.

_Ner._ Not so, for she shall go
Whence nothing reaches Rome.

_Pop._ Oh, now I fear
I have said too much; let not my love o’ercome thee.
Maybe she meant not this.

_Ner._ Thou meddle not!

_Pop._ Oh, but at least no crimes, Nero, no crimes!
Promise me that; rather I’ll fly to-night.

_Ner._ Poppæa, in earnest of the happy day
When thou wilt be my wife, I bid thee now
Depart. 2580

_Pop._ (_kissing him_). Husband, I go. [_Exit._

_Ner._ What ho! what ho!

_Enter a Servant._

Is Anicetus in the palace?

_SERVANT._

Ay, Cæsar.

_Ner._ Go, bid him hither straight. [_Exit Servant._
It shall be done.
Ay, now it shall be done. Let me consider;
I must be cool, lest I be foiled once more.
Where lies my hindrance? not in her; she has twice
Deceived me and escaped: now in my turn
I steal her weapon, and can use it better,
Having been plain before. Then Seneca...
He shall not know, so are his scruples quiet.
For mine, they are hushed already; but ’twere best
Recount the terms which reason can oppose 2591
To too rebellious nature: first there’s my motive,
Huge as the earth; liberty, happiness,
Empire: that cannot slide, I fear not that.
Then there’s the ground of justice; Claudius’ death,
O’er which the executive too long hath slept
In Cæsar’s piety: the sentence now
O’ertakes the murderess with a double score,
Since she by her conspiracy contrived
Britannicus should die ... ay, for his death 2600
The heavy penalty hangs o’er some head;
Now let it fall on hers,—so I am quit.
All this condemns her, long-expected justice
Cries, and occasion hurries on the hand.
Ay, ay, I am clear. Poppæa being my stake,
I cannot shrink nor swerve. What was’t she wrote?
Why here is more. [_Reads._
_Be with me in this matter,
But if thou should’st refuse, we are worse foes._
She dares the threat.

_Enter Anicetus._

_ANICETUS._

Cæsar hath summoned me.

_Ner._ Good Anicetus, tell me, is there none 2610
Greater than Cæsar?

_Anic._ Nay, Cæsar, there is none.

_Ner._ But were there one to whom it might be said
Cæsar owed life and fortune—dost thou take me?

_Anic._ Cæsar would say the Augusta.

_Ner._ Nay, thou’rt dull:
’Twas thee I meant.

_Anic._ Me, Cæsar!

_Ner._ Dost remember
Boasting to me that thou hadst sailor means
To do a certain thing?

_Anic._ Ay.

_Ner._ Do it now.
I’ll owe thee life and fortune. Canst thou be trusted?

_Anic._ My love for Cæsar follows hand in hand
With his command in this.

_Ner._ Then do it, I say; 2620
No words, no explanation. Agrippina
Will come to Baiæ: there have thou thy ship.

_Anic._ I will have one at Bauli, one at Baiæ:
If she take either it shall serve the turn.

_Ner._ Go now contrive thy means; let nothing ’scape thee
To me or any other: when ’tis done
Hold thy head high.

_Anic._ Cæsar, I go to do it. [_Exit._

_Ner._ Now comes my part: ay, though it vex my soul
To stoop; tho’ this be Cæsar’s greatest wrong,
That he must patch his faultless power with guile,
And having all command, miss of his will 2631
But for a subterfuge .... yet for this once
I’ll do it—’tis little; but to write a letter,
Feign to discard Poppæa, as mistrusting
Her love and character; and from that vantage
I surely win my mother to come forth
And join the court at Baiæ—she will come.

ACT · V

SCENE · 1

_Baiæ. A room in Agrippina’s villa; the back gives out
on the sea, where a galley is seen moored to quay of
villa. AGRIPPINA and FULVIA._

_AGRIPPINA._

Is not this charming, Fulvia? what a day!
I feel I have never breathed spring air before.
And how the people cheered! it did me good. 2640
Here’s my old seat. The villa’s looking well.
Could but Domitia see us now! How smoothly
Her little plot went off! My first suspicions,
Fulvia, I am sure were wrong: this invitation
Was most well meant; and see the tenderness
Has even called up my tears. You cannot know
What fond associations make this house
A home indeed. I wish I had not refused
To take the yacht at Bauli: ’twas an error,
Over-precaution.

_FULVIA._

Madam, I but told you 2650
The very words Seleucus.... [_A noise without._

_Agr._ What is that noise?

_Ful._ ’Tis Cæsar coming with a company.

_Agr._ Oh, I will see. (_Looking forth._) And there is
Seneca
And Burrus. There’s much meaning in this visit.
How grand he looks with all his lords about him!
There never was a Cæsar like him: others
Have been but Cæsars; he’s an emperor,
And wears the full magnificence of state
In beardless boyhood.—Fulvia, I do love splendour.
To be so young and rule the world! 2660

_Enter Nero, Seneca, and Burrus._

Now, welcome,
Welcome, my son!

_NERO._

Welcome to Baiæ, mother.
We are come the first day of the feast to pay you
The season’s compliments.

_Agr._ A prompt return.
What pleasure ’tis, Nero, I cannot say.
Welcome, my lords.

_SENECA._

My loving service, lady.

_Ner._ Crossed you the bay from Bauli?

_Agr._ Nay, you’ll laugh;
’Twas foolish; but I wished the folk to see
My joy and reconcilement, and in the thought
To please so many friends I kept my litter.

_Ner._ You’ll all sup with us? 2670

_Agr._ I look for nothing better.

_Ner._ Whom will you bring?

_Agr._ I have no one with me here
But Polla Acerronia.

_Ner._ And where is she?

_Agr._ She took the yacht, and so arrived before us,
But has not left it: like the child she is,
The new toy quite distracts her: she is there.

_Ner._ Row you this afternoon upon the bay?

_Agr._ I had thought of it; and now, if you would come
That were a double pleasure.

_Ner._ I am sorry, I must go
Order to-morrow’s games.

_Agr._ Your lords mayhap
Will join me. I can take them to your villa. 2680

_Sen._ I’ll gladly come: the dust the crowd treads up
Has filled my throat and set me coughing shrewdly.

_Ner._ Nay, I shall want you both.

_Agr._ Some other time
I hope, my lords.

_BURRUS._

I thank your majesty.

_Ner._ Farewell till supper.

_Agr._ Why! so short a visit!

_Ner._ We shall meet soon.

_Agr._ Well, I will sail alone
With Polla; ’tis her wish. Escort me, Nero?

_Ner._ Ay.

_Agr._ For the sake of that I’ll go at once.
I love the sea.

[_Exeunt Nero with Agr. and Fulv. down the quay,
where they are still seen._

_Sen._ Burrus, what say you now!
Has not the thing I looked for come to pass? 2690

_Bur._ There’s as you say a most astounding change;
Can you explain it?

_Sen._ Well, you see it, Burrus.

_Bur._ How came it all about?

_Sen._ See now how tenderly
They both embrace.

_Bur._ Who would have thought it?

_Sen._ I;
I should have thought it: and I point to this
To justify my words those many times
Our speech has come to difference.

_Re-enter Nero. Fulvia goes into house._

_Ner._ Now, lords,
I go.

_Bur. and Sen._ We follow, Cæsar.

_Ner._ I have changed my mind;
I want you not. [_Going._

_Bur._ Will Cæsar name the hour
When we shall wait on him? 2700

_Ner._ Why, come at once.
I cannot tell what hour I may not want you.
Attend me at my villa. [_Exit._

_Bur._ Of a sudden
He is changed again.

_Sen._ You see how easily
He is overcome with kindness. Would you know
The noble sacrifice he has made?

_Bur._ What’s that?

_Sen._ Why, he has renounced Poppæa.

_Bur._ Nay!

_Sen._ Ay.

_Bur._ Who told you?

_Sen._ I saw the letter.

_Bur._ How! Poppæa shows it?

_Sen._ ’Twas writ his mother.

_Bur._ Then he has deceived her.

_Sen._ Can you think that?

_Bur._ The letter makes all plain.
Why did he write it?

_Sen._ Why?

_Bur._ Well, well.

_Sen._ Oh, Burrus, 2710
I have every cause for hope; and here to-day
The meeting in this house more than assures me
He must redeem the promise of his youth.
’Twas in this very room, ten years ago,
I first saw Nero—Ay, ’tis now ten years—
I was arrived from Corsica at Rome,
And there found summons to attend the Augusta
At Baiæ: hither in all haste I came.
The yearnings and the miseries of exile
Would make a mean deliverer seem a god, 2720
And my return drave me half mad with joy.
I entered: in that chair sat Agrippina,
My kind deliverer, my friend, the empress.
Time had not marred her beauty, and as she spake
Impatience flushed her cheek—she shared my joy.
I knelt in tears there, nor ashamed of tears,
Though at her side I was aware was standing
A boy of some twelve years; whom, when I rose,
She then presented as her son, and bade me
Take him for pupil. As I saw him then 2730
In fullest grace of boyhood, apt in all
Boys should be manly in, and gifted further
Than boys are wont with insight, and the touch
Of human sympathy and learned taste,
Proficient in some arts and dull in none,
But coy withal and generous, ’twas no wonder
If ere that evening passed I had admitted
The schemes his mother had laid, which in short time
Were brought to pass.

_Bur._ ’Twas a black day.

_Sen._ And yet,
Burrus, if after you had seen how kindly 2740
He took instruction, how he came to love me,
You would not wonder—nay, I can remember
Claudius himself was shamed if his Britannicus,
Being younger but by some two years, were by
Where Nero was: and had I been the father
I might have wished, I think, to have done as he,
And called the best my son.

_Bur._ He killed Britannicus.

_Sen._ Burrus, if as it seems you quite distrust him,
Why hold you still the office which establishes
His power?

_Bur._ Because it is an office, Seneca, 2750
The top of my profession: yet, by the gods,
Find you a better man, and I’ll be gone.
But, as a soldier, I’ll not see the guards
Commanded by some brute like Tigellinus.

_Sen._ Nay, be not angry.

_Bur._ Would not you be angry
Thus to be questioned?

_Sen._ Nay, indeed, by habit
I question oft myself.

_Bur._ Then, for one question
I’ll be appeased. I know you, Seneca,
For a man of many parts, a scholar, poet,
Lawyer, and politician, what you will; 2760
A courtier too besides, a man of business,
A money-maker; in short, a man of the world,
That like a ship lifting to every wave,
Heeling to every blast, makes good her way
And leaves no track. Now what I ask is this:
How ride so lightly with the times, and yet
Be the unbending stoic, the philosopher,
The rock, I say, that planted in the deep
Moves not a hair, but sees the buffeting breakers
Boil and withdraw? Which is the matter, Seneca?
Nay, ’tis a pertinent and friendly question— 2771
I’ll take your answer as we go along.

[_Exeunt Burrus and Seneca._

_Re-enter Fulvia._

_Ful._ Of all delights I think that liberty
Is the prime element: nothing is pleasant
Joined with a must. Why, even this journey hither
That has so cheered my mistress, all the talk
Of sky and fields and trees, tired me to death.
I’m sick of servitude, with ’time for this’
And ’time for that’: I’d give my ears for freedom;

[_She sits in Agrippina’s chair._

To have my servants, and say—Prithee, Fulvia,
What is o’clock?—Fetch me the little kerchief
I left upon my bed—Come, Fulvia, quick; 2782
I want you—Fulvia, go, order my litter—
Fulvia, be gone; we’ve business—Fulvia, stay,
Amuse me for a while.—I would to heaven
I were in Rome again! (_Shouts heard._) Hey, what a noise!
Cheering my lady! here’s a change indeed.
Well, I shan’t lose by that. Gods, how they cheer!
She might have taken me with her. I know well
I shan’t see the outside of these villa walls 2790
Till bound for home. And here no visitors,
At least for me. Cheer on, my lads! and yet
If I should get the chance I’d like to see
These famous Neapolitans: I’m told
They’re wondrous saucy, and ingenious singers.
What’s that? a boat! my lady! gracious heavens!

[_A boat rows up to quay._

My lady, O my lady, what’s the matter?

_Enter Agrippina up from the quay, clothes dripping; the
boat remains._

_Agr._ An accident, and I am escaped by swimming:
Yet thou must know, Fulvia, ’twas a contrivance
To take my life—the kindness was all hollow—
A dastardly contrivance: ’twas the ship 2801
Seleucus spoke of. Look, I am hurt in the shoulder,
Yet ’tis not much.

_Ful._ Alack, alack, my lady!

_Agr._ I am cold and faint. I must at once go shift
These dripping habits. When I am rested somewhat
Thou shalt hear all: meanwhile, call in the sailors
Who rowed me hither: get from them whate’er
They saw or know, and promise a reward
Worthy of my deliverance. [_Going._

_Ful._ Praised be the gods,
My lady, that thou’rt safe.

_ Agr._ (_turning_). Polla is killed. [_Exit._

_Ful._ What, Polla! Killed! she said killed. Polla killed!2811
Ho! fellows, come within, nay, come within.

_Sailors enter._

_SAILOR._

We are not fit, my lady. By thy leave,
We are poor fishermen.

_Ful._ Come, fellows, come.
Which is the captain?

_Sail._ Me, so please thee, lady.

_Ful._ Ye have brought the empress safe, and for that service
Shall have a good reward. But, tell me now,
How came she in your boat?

_Sail._ ’Twas thus, my lady.
It being the feast, we smartened up the boat
And pulled her close along the shore, to find 2820
A party of landsmen, such as love to visit
Misenum, or be rowed across the bay
To Pausilypum, lady, and Virgil’s villa.
When, as we lay, the Augusta’s galley passed,
Not half a cable’s length, and then we cheered,
And after took no note of her, till Gripus,
He cries, Look! see the galley. And there she was
Laid on her beam-ends in the offing. Ho!
We cried, and gave the alarm, and led the chase
To reach her first: when presently she righted, 2830
Steadied, and trimmed her oars, and drew away.
While we were wondering and talking of it
I spied a something floating, and again
Putting about, saw ’twas a swimmer’s head.
Four other boats with ours made for it too;
But we gave way with a will and held our own,
And coming alongside, found ’twas the Augusta.
I reached her out an oar, and I and my mate
Lifted her in handsomely. Then she bad us
Straight row her hither. She’s a most brave lady,
Ay, and can swim. 2841

_Ful._ Know you no more?

_Sail._ No, lady.
We looked, but saw naught else, not even a spar.
The Augusta told us there was none but she.

_Ful._ What was the reason why the galley heeled?

_Sail._ I cannot tell.

_Ful._ What could it be?

_Sail._ D’ye see,
My lady, ’tis the Admiral’s boat, this galley.
It’s not for me....

_Ful._ There’s not a breath of wind.

_Sail._ The mischief was aboard.

_Ful._ You know no more?

_Sail._ Nothing, my lady.

_Ful._ Then begone; to-morrow
Come for your recompense. I know not yet 2850
The Augusta’s pleasure.

_The Sailors._ Thank thee, thank thee, my lady.

[_Exeunt Sailors._

_Ful._ ’Tis plain the men know nothing.

_Sailor_ (_returning_). Please thee, lady,
If not too bold, we’ll ask thee if the Augusta
Has taken harm from being so long in the water.

_Ful._ Thank you, my men. I pray she’s none the worse.

_Sail._ ’Tis bitter cold, indeed. But I can tell
She’s of good stuff; ay, and can swim.

_Ful._ Be sure
You are fortunate to have done her this good service.

_Sail._ I make my humble duties. [_Exit._

_Ful._ Alas, alas!
What can this mystery mean? I die to hear. 2860
I must now go attend her; ah! here she comes.

_Enter Agrippina._

_Agr._ Fetch me some wine and a warm coverlet;
The fur one from my bed.

_Ful._ Ay, madam, quickly. [_Exit._

_Agr._ I have no friend here but her and the few servants
Upon the place: ’tis plotted well indeed
To catch me thus alone: Mistress Poppæa
Is seen in this. Yet being escaped, I think
I yet will prove her match.

_Re-enter Fulvia._

Ah, thank you, so.

_Ful._ Are you recovered, madam, from the shock?

_Agr._ I am warm again. I think too that my hurt
Is very little: but I am somewhat shaken. 2871

_Ful._ What is it that hath happed? The sailors knew
Nothing but that they found you.

_Agr._ Did they see
Nothing?

_Ful._ They saw the galley lurch, and say
The Admiral must know.

_Agr._ ’Tis likely enough
’Twas his contrivance. Now I’ll tell thee all,
Fulvia, and thou must help me all thou canst
When thou hast heard: indeed I tell thee partly
To clear my judgment.—We had rowed about a mile,
Polla and I, and sat upon the poop, 2880
Taking our pleasure, when, all on a sudden,
Darkness; the awning fell, with such a crash
As took away my spirits, and Polla and I
Were thrown down from our couches by the weight
Of falling cloth and spars: one heavy beam
Grazed my left shoulder, and we lay crushed down
Upon the deck. Then I heard Polla laugh,
Finding we were not hurt, and she crept forth
Forward, beneath the curtains; the oars stopped:
I heard a rush of feet, and presently 2890
Came Polla’s voice, ’Hold, slay me not, ye villains,
I am Agrippina.’ Then, ’Ah me, I am slain!’
And one long deathly groan. This, when I heard,
Taught me my part, and towards the other side,
Crawling, I came to the window o’er the stern,
Where lay my only escape; and silently,
Feet foremost, I crept out, and by the ladder
Slipped down without a sound into the sea.
The galley still held way, and in few strokes
I saw that I was left and unperceived; 2900
And so swam on until the fishermen
Hailed me by name, and took me in their boat.

_Ful._ Who can have laid this plot to kill you, madam?

_Agr._ ’Tis Nero, Fulvia, he who seemed but late
So kind and dutiful: ’twas all hollowness,
Part of the plot, to bring me here alone,
Away from friends: ay, and perceive this too,
To lay my death to charge of an accident,
And hide, maybe, even my dead body, drowned
And lost in the depths of the sea. Now, being alone,
I shall need thee to aid me.

_Ful._ Dearest madam, 2911
What can I do?

_Agr._ Thou must be faithful to me
Whatever happens. Hearken, I said ’twas Nero
Had done this: ’tis not so; my real enemy,
The mover, is Poppæa. I blame not Nero:
I bade him to discard her: he was driven
To choose between us: she hath carried it.
But being escaped, and she not here, I yet
Can right myself with him. ’Tis not too late;
Nay, I can amply trust those broad affections, 2920
Which ’twixt a mother and her son remain
At bottom, spite of all. Ay, they remain.
The common knowledge of this guilty attempt
Will clear the way: and when I show the path,
He will be glad to escape. I have writ a letter,
Which, if he read, will work. ’Tis pure submission.
Remember, we must ever speak of this
But as an accident. Here is the letter;
Send Agerinus with it straight to Cæsar;
Of all my servants he’s the one must bear it: 2930
Nero has known him from a child, will trust him;
Nay, he hath rid so oft upon his shoulders
That he is half a brother, half a father.
Send him at once: I have bidden him await:
He should be here.