Chapter III: Part 3

_Men._ Not so: he is here.
(_Calls_) Pamphilus! (_To Chremes_) Do not blame me; I promised
to plead for him.

_Enter Pamphilus._

_Chr._ How dare you again appear in my presence, wretch? Be off!
I tell you that I disown you. Yes, Menedemus, & you
Will not attempt, I beg, to avert the punishment
He more than deserves. I have cast him away and cut him off. 1490
My whole fortune I leave to Antiphila—that is the thing
I said I sh^d ask—you promised not to oppose me: now
I beg you will not.

_Men._ Consider if you are wise.

_Chr._ Not wise?

_Sost._ O you are very unwise!

_Chr._ Wife!

_Sost._ Why, he is your son!

_Chr._ Extremely kind of you to say so! there’s not a doubt in
the world
He is yours: but were I you, I sh^d not be very vain,
Being mirrored in such a cub.

_Sost._ O Chremes, your own son!

_Chr._ Not were he twice my son, and sprung from my head,
as they say
Minerva was from Jove’s, would I own him.

_PAMPHILUS._

Consider, sir,
My mother’s feelings, although you do not consider me. 1500

_Chr._ I do not consider you, sir? In all I have done,
I have kept You and your follies in view: considering what you are,
I thought you would rather think I considered you too much.
I consider you reckless, sir; I consider that you pursue
Your pleasure and vulgar tastes. I consider you quite unfit
To be trusted with money, and so I have hit on a plan, by which
You’ll be, I consider, spared the trouble of managing it;
And though not launched on the world as I’d wish to see my son,
You’ll be, I consider, ensured from absolute destitution.
Unable to leave you my wealth, I turn to those that are next, 1510
To them I do not shrink from entrusting it; and I consider,
That at their house, Pamphilus, you will always find at least
A refuge, food & clothes, & a roof above your head.

_Pam._ Good God!

_Chr._ Don’t swear.—’Tis better than that you should be
my heir,
And Gorgo squander it. Eh, sir?

_Pam._ O, I wish I was dead.

_Chr._ First learn what ’tis to live: when you know that, if life
Displease you still, then wish to die.

_Men._ Chremes, allow me
To urge you in this. You could not really wish him to go
To Persia, say, and forsake you, as Clinia díd mé.

_Chr._ Forsake me! why, let him go to perdition for all I care, 1520
Rather than stay at home and drag his father down
To beggary with his vices and follies: for if I once
Were saddled with his expenses, I guess ’twould come very soon
To my using that spade of yours, Menedemus, in good earnest.

_Men._ You offered me your advice this morning; now I in turn....

_Chr._ I do not need advice.

_Men._ Spoil not so happy a day.

_Chr._ I have found a daughter to-day, Menedemus, but lost a son.

_Men._ You have lost your daughter to me, let me restore your son.

_Sost._ O do forgive him, Chremes; you must.

_Chr._ Pray, silence, wife.

_Clin._ Me, sir, you cannot blame for taking a brother’s part. 1530
His fault was partly mine: and what was wrongly done
Was done in my behalf.

_Chr._ No, no, there’s no excuse.

_Enter Philolaches as a Persian._

_Men._ Why, here’s our friend the Persian.

_Chr._ Pray, sir, what will you?

_PHILOLACHES._

I hear you have been enquiring for me in the town. Behold me!

_Chr._ I do not want you now: I know, sir, who you are.
The game is all played out. We have done with masquerades,
And personating others.

_Ph._ I may take it then I address
Chremes, and not Menedemus?

_Chr._ You do, sir; and be so kind
As now to restore me the money, which under a false pretence
You made me give you to-day.

_Ph._ ’Tis not the Persian custom. 1540

_Chr._ You and your Persian customs be hanged, sir; and I believe
You’re more than half to blame for all the impertinence
I have suffered to-day.

_Ph._ I am, sir; I came to make the confession;
But if you know it already, why do you spite your son?
I have been your guest to-day, & if I have overstrained
The liberty of the feast, I am ready in turn to pay
The penalty. In the name of Bacchus, disown and cast off me,
Disinherit me if you will. But him, your flesh & blood,
Pity and forgive.

_Men._ Yes, Chremes.

_ANTIPHILA._

O father, do give in!

_Chr._ Now that’s the first time, lass, you have called me father.
I see 1550
I shall have to yield.

_Ant._ O thank you.

_Chr._ Stay. If I do give in,
’Tis only on two conditions.

_Men._ I’ll answer for Pamphilus,
That he’ll accept them: what are they?

_Chr._ First, my forty pounds;
To get that back from Gorgo.

_Pam._ I can’t do that.

_Chr._ You can’t?

_Men._ You spent that money, Chremes, advanced it rather for me,
Thinking to do me a service. I’ll ask you let it be me
Who does it for you. I’ll gladly pay it: it is not lost.
Consider this condition fulfilled.

_Chr._ You are kinder far
To my boy than he has deserved.

_Men._ And what is the other matter?

_Chr._ This. He must marry.

_Pam._ Father!

_Chr._ I will not hear a word. 1560

_Men._ I’ll vouch for him that he will do it.

_Chr._ He does not say so himself.

_Pam._ No use,—impossible.

_Sost._ Can you hesitate, Pamphilus?

_Chr._ Nay, let him do as he likes.

_Men._ He’ll do it—everything.

_Sost._ This must seem strange at first & disagreeable,
Before you have even thought of it. When you know more of it,
You’ll like it.

_Pam._ I will, father.

_Chr._ Good! son: for though a wife
Is an evil, she is a necessary evil, and one to which
You will get accustomed in time. ’Tis more respectable too
To be married; and the only cure for a temper such as yours.

_Sost._ I’ll help you choose, my dear Pamphilus; I know who— 1570
That clever, charming girl, whom you’ll be in love with directly;
The orphan niece of our old neighbour, Phanocrates.

_Pam._ What, not that red-haired thing, with a mouth from
ear to ear,
And a little knob of a nose. I couldn’t.

_Chr._ Why, only see
How nice he has grown: it’s plain he means what he says now.

_Sost._ Why, I’m sure, Pamphilus, she is a pinnacle of perfection.
But I know another.

_Pam._ No, no; if I am to marry, be hanged!
I’ll choose for myself. I know of a girl will do very well.

_Sost._ Who is it?

_Pam._ Archonides’ daughter.

_Sost._ You c^d not have pleased me more.

_Chr._ My word! I do believe my wife & I are agreed
On something at last. O wonderful day!

_Sost._ Chremes, I knew 1581
’Twould end like this.

_Chr._ Now, wife! none of your prophecies.
Come in, come all to dinner.

_Pam._ Philolaches was asked;
May he come too?

_Chr._ Oh yes! if it’s the Persian custom.
I’ll bear no grudge to-day; come in, sir, with the rest,
And help to make us merry. This is THE FEAST OF BACCHUS.

NERO PART II

FROM THE DEATH OF BURRUS TO
THE DEATH OF SENECA
COMPRISING
THE CONSPIRACY OF PISO

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

AS IN FIRST PART

_NERO_
_SENECA_
_LUCAN_ _a poet, nephew to Seneca_.
_PETRONIUS_ _a gentleman of Rome_.
_TIGELLINUS_ _prætorian prefect_ (_successor to Burrus_).
_THRASEA_ _a stoic senator_.
_PRISCUS_ _a young stoic, lover of Fannia_.
_GRIPUS_ _a Neapolitan boatman_.
_POPPÆA_ _now wife to Nero_.

NEW CHARACTERS IN THIS PART

_CLITUS_ _a Christian, brother of Epicharis_.
_PISO_ _a nobleman_.
_NATALIS_ _confidential follower of Piso_.
_SCEVINUS_, _a rich lord_ }
_SENECIO_, _an upstart gentleman_ } _courtiers_.
_QUINTIAN_, _a court poet_ }
_PROCULUS_ _Admiral_ (_successor to Anicetus_).
_LATERANUS_ _Consul elect_.
_RUFUS_ _shared prefecture with Tigellinus_.
_FLAVUS_, _a tribune_ }
_ASPER_, _a centurion_ } _under Rufus_.
_VATINIUS_ _Nero’s fool_ (_successor to Paris_).
_CASSIUS_ _a guardsman, distinguished by his size_.

_ACTE_ _Nero’s early mistress_.
_EPICHARIS_ _daughter of a tavern-keeper at Naples_.
_FANNIA_ _Thrasea’s daughter, marries Priscus_.
_PAULLINA_ _wife to Seneca_.

_Officers_, _Attendants_, _Sailors_, _Soldiers_, _Citizens_, _etc._

NERO P^T. II

ACT · I

SCENE · 1

(AS PROLOGUE.)

_Rome. Thrasea’s house. THRASEA and PRISCUS._

_THRASEA._

What is it, Priscus, that hath led thee now
To pledge my ear to closer secrecy
Than what thy loving trust alway command?

_PRISCUS._

I fear to tell.

_Thr._ Suppose then I tell thee.
I know thy sickness, and I hold the cure.

_Pr._ Nay, sir: I rank among the incurables.

_Thr._ Bravo! that is well said. I have watched thee, Priscus,
All the six years I have known thee—’tis six years:
I have seen thine eye grow steadier, and thy smile
Softer and kinder, and thy speech, which once
Crackled in flame and smoke, hath stilled to a fire
That comforts my old age. Even as thy body
Hath statelier motion, so is’t with thy mind,
Which ripen’d manners clothe in rich reserve.

_Pr._ What wilt thou say?

_Thr._ Hearken! ’tis some days since
I have noted thy disturbance and rejoiced.
’Tis ill with them, who quake not at the touch
Of the world’s Creator. Thou hast come to tell me
Thou lov’st my daughter.

_Pr._ Ah, sir!

_Thr._ Is’t not so?

_Pr._ Her name is the oath whereby I seal all truth.

_Thr._ And well: thou’rt worthy of her; in saying which
I mean thy praise, for she is worthy of thée.
Nay, while she lives I go not from the world;
Death sucks me not, though on his iron ladder
My years descend: she will be Thrasea still, 25
Without his struggles. Let me acquaint thee, son,
With one condition which I have thought to make,
Ere I commit her to thy trust.

_Pr._ Good Thrasea,
I know not how to thank thee; but, forgive me,
My secret was not this.

_Thr._ Not this?

_Pr._ Nay, sir.
Of late I have passed my life half in a dungeon,
Half in the garden, where thou bidst me forth
To bask in my love’s joy: which in my duty
I had spoken of to thee openly, but all
Hath come so quickly: now, a happier way,
I meet thy favour unsolicited.
Let nothing vex this hour; I long to hear
Thy one requirement, which my full consent
Leaps to embrace unheard, that thou mayst join
Fannia and me.

_Thr._ ’Tis but a form. I ask
A promise of thee, Priscus, that thou wílt not
For ten years join any conspiracy
Against the Emperor.

_Pr._ Why?

_Thr._ For Fannia’s sake,
Lest Nero kill thee: and for thy sake too.

_Pr._ And why ten years?

_Thr._ Ten years is a fair term.
Thou wilt be old in prudence then.

_Pr._ Such prudence
Let me die ere I learn. How would’st thou, sir,
For ten years bind me down in slavery
To flatter a tyrant?

_Thr._ Who said flatter? Stay:
Impatience cannot help. The case is thus. 50
Since Burrus died, Nero hath broken loose:—
Seneca’s leading-string hath snapped in the midst
Without a strain:—in greed of absolute power
His will cast off restraint; in the possession
His tottering reason doth the like. His lust,
His cruelty, his effeminate, blundering passion
For art and brutal vice are but the brag
Of a hideous nature, which will force the bounds
Of human action, till the shames of Rome
Shame shameless Rome to wipe away her shame.
That is a balance which I cannot poise,
How much shame Rome will bear; but when I hear
The whispers of revolt, and now one name
And now another cast out like a fly
To fish opinion, I give little heed,
For these two reasons; first, there’s not a man
Among the chiefs of faction of such mark
As to make change secure: the second, this,
That lacking such a leader there’s no party
That can command opinion. Nero’s fall,
When he shall fall, will be in a flooding wave
Of common judgment. What the extravagance
Of crime is weak to move, some unforeseen
And trifling circumstance may on a sudden 75
Deliver; and the force that none can raise
None shall control. Await the rising tide,
It will not need us.

_Pr._ Some, sir, cannot wait.
I came to tell thee how I had given my name
To a conspiracy.

_Thr._ The gods forbid!
With whom?

_Pr._ I may not name their names.

_Thr._ Nay, nay:
But who is the pretender?

_Pr._ Seneca.

_Thr._ Seneca! Seneca! Hath he consented?

_Pr._ We are such, sir, as can win him.

_Thr._ Why, I know you;
The senatorial patriots. There’ll be Lucan,
Cassius and Lateranus, Fænius Rufus,
Flavus, perhaps Vestinus....

_Pr._ Who they be
Will presently be seen.

_Thr._ O, I am in time
To stay you yet. This plot is merely mischief,
Seneca’s death.

_Pr._ Not if ’tis Nero’s death.

_Thr._ Think, man! If first ye go to Seneca,
Ere ye slay Nero, he will not consent:
Never, be sure. And if ye first slay Nero,
Seneca’s nowhere. Others will spring up,
Piso, and all the Augustan family,
Plautus, Silanus....

_Pr._ But if Seneca
Consent....

_Thr_. What! to that crime?

_Pr._ He hath consented
To like before.

_Thr._ Well, but the wrongs he hath done
His pride alloys, or in pretensed retirement
Repudiates; ánd, could he feel his guilt, 100
That were remorse, whose sick and painful palsy
Cannot raise hand to strike. Think you that he,
Who laughed at Claudius’ death; who let be slain
His old friend and protectress Agrippina;
Who glozed the murder of Britannicus;
Who hid his protest when Octavia fell;
That he will turn about and say, ‘Such things
I did for Nero, and the good of Rome:
Now, since he sings at Naples on the stage,
I do repent me, and will kill my pupil;
Will take myself the power I made for him,
And shew how I intended he should rule!’
This were a Roman but not Seneca.

_Pr._ We look not fór it óf him.

_Thr._ ’Tis all one.
Seneca! the millionaire!

_Pr._ If he consent,
We restore the republic.

_Thr._ The Republic!
The Decii and Camilli will you bring us?
That kingly yeoman, frugal Curius?
Can you restore the brave considerate Gracchi,
And Cato’s stern unconquerable soul?...
O nay: but Seneca the imperialist!——
Priscus, if Seneca refuse, thou’lt make
A promise for ten years?

_Pr._ With that reserve;
And wilt thou not say five years?

_Thr._ I’ll say five,
If thou wilt promise.

_Pr._ Then, if Seneca 125
Refuse, I pledge myself to take no part
In any plot against the emperor
For five years.

_Thr._ Come within, Fannia is thine. [_Exeunt._

SCENE · 2

_Naples. A marine tavern, the open court of it, with fountain at centre, and low colonnade around. On the left at a table some Mariners are drinking and playing with dice. On the right are Officers sitting apart and drinking. Towards the front PROCULUS (the Admiral) and SENECIO. EPICHARIS is serving the Officers._

_SENECIO._

I do beg of you, my lord!

_PROCULUS._

Why so frightened, sir, at a little trembling of the soil? Had the Gods any appetite to swallow you, think you that they would trouble to provide warnings for your escape?

_Se^{o.}_ I do pray you, my lord admiral, take me on board your galley for to-night; only for to-night.

_Pro._ We are under Cæsar’s orders to sail for the Adriatic, sir; else I might strain to make some cabin accommodation: but then that would be for the ladies. Epicharis, help this gentleman to wine; he’s nervous: some more drink, and I think he’ll be as brave as any of us.

_EPICHARIS._

’Twill be at my cost, your excellence.

_Pro._ Nay, I’ll cover that. Come, drink, sir, and cheer your soul. That’s the only kindness I can do you.

_Se^{o.}_ Thank you, my lord, but I ... (_a rumbling heard._) Oh! oh! there it is again.

_Ep._ (_to Senecio_). ’Tis safe enough in our court, sir; if you sit from the walls.

_Pro._ And fill for me, fair hostess. Wilt not thou come aboard my ship?

_Ep._ Your ship, my lord?

_Pro._ ’Tis against the rules of the service: but they provide not for these earthquakes.

_Ep._ Ha! ha! you jest, my lord.

_Pro._ We have no wars to occupy us: why should I not give shelter to the ladies, that fear to be ashore?

_Ep._ That would not be me, my lord. We rode out worse shakings last year. 160

_Pro._ Come, I’ll have thee come. Should Cæsar hear of it, I can take care of myself. (_They talk._)

(_Mariners to each other._)

_FIRST MARINER._

He was a-acting of Niobby.

_SECOND MARINER._

Niobe, who was Niobe?

_THIRD MARINER._

A first-rate, went down with all hands off Andros, the year of Claudius’ death.

_1st._ True, mate; that was our Niobby. But this was a Greek lady that lost all her children at a clap; bad luck with her name!

_2nd._ The Emperor would have made to be her, as ’twere; was it?

_1st._ ’Twas a tragedy, look: and that’s just where it is. Everybody is somebody else, and nothing’s as it should be.

_2nd._ That’s right: he were dressed out like a woman.

_1st._ Did ye not see him, nodding to the music, and throwing his hands about? then he gets red in the face, then he should stoop down to catch his breath, (_he acts_) then creening up again he should throw back his head, and ei! ei! (_Screams. All laugh loudly._)

_Pro._ Hell and thunder! Silence there!

_MARINERS_ (_to themselves_).

Why, if we mayn’t laugh in the theater, nor out of it!

_Pro._ (_to Officers_). Here’s a gentleman, who would go to sea to escape being shaken. Shall we take him a cruise?

_FIRST OFFICER._

Frightened by the earthquake, sir? I do not blame you.

_Se^{o.}_ When the gods shake your city, as a terrier does a rat.

_1st Off._ But how should the sea cure you? ’Tis their common plaything.

_Pro._ Indeed, sir, you would learn what heavings be. These land movements are nought. What would you say to thirty feet up and down three times a minute? with now your bows in the air and now your stern: pitched now forward, now backward, now rolled from side to side; thrust up to heaven till your brains are full of air, then sunk down till your belly squirms, inside out, outside in! 201

_Se^{o.}_ Maybe, sir: but the roof will not fall on your head: the waves do not crack your walls. Your ships being constructed mainly of wood ...

_Pro._ But the rocks, sir, are mainly constructed of stone, upon which if a wooden-constructed ship be driven, there’s no man that would not pay his fortune down to set one foot on the most quakeful or boggy ground ’twixt Ganges and Gades. And there be monsters, too, which, though I have never seen them, will swallow, they say, your whole ship at a gulp, as you do your wine.

(_The house trembles, some jars fall: all run to centre._)

_Se^{o.}_ There ’tis again! Oh! oh!

(_A great crash heard._)

_Mar._ Belay there!

_Se^{o.}_ Oh! oh! ye gods in heaven!

_1st Off._ Steady, my men, steady!

_Mar._ Ay, ay, sir.

_1st Off._ Order! To your seats!

_Ep._ Sit and drink, gentlemen. Wine shall be cheap to-day. The life in the earth will crack my jars. A few more rumbles like that will drain the cellars.

_1st Off._ (_to men_). We’re safe here as anywhere, lads; if you keep an eye to the main-walls. It’s all plasterwork aloft.

_Enter Clitus._

_CLITUS._

Epicharis! Art thou here, Epicharis? 225

_Pro._ (_to Epicharis_). Who is this scared fellow?

_Cli._ Epicharis, ’tis come: the day is come! Fly from this place!

_Ep._ (_to Proc._). ’Tis my poor brother, sir: heed him not; he is simple.

_Cli._ (_come to Epi._). Seest thou not, ’tis the end, the day of wrath? The earth shakes and the dead rise from their tombs.

_Pro._ (_to 1st Off._). By Pluto, if he be not one of them!

_Ep._ (_to Clit._). Sit down quietly, Clitus, for a minute: I can speak with you presently.

_Cli._ O Madness! Come from this hell: fly while thou mayst!

_Mar._ Ay, sit, mate, sit! be not afeard! sit with us!

_Cli._ Woe to you, slaves of Babylon! woe cometh To the queen that sits upon the seven hills.

_1st Mar._ That is Rome: the seven hills is Rome. What of Babylon?

_Cli._ Rome shall be burned with fire, Babylon burned, Her smoke shall curl to heaven.

_Enter Gripus, out of breath._

_GRIPUS._

Gone, she’s gone down!

_Pro._ What’s gone, man?

_Gri._ The theater; foundered, sir, gone clean down. I had just got well clear of her, when she gave a lurch, and plumped under starn-foremost in a cloud of dust.

_Cli._ (_to Epic._). Come, come, Epicharis, I pray thee!

_Se^{o.}_ Is this the gods, or is it not the gods? (_drinks._)

_Pro._ That was the crash. 252

_Cli._ (_dragging at Epic._). Thou shalt, thou must.

_Ep._ (_freeing herself_). One moment, Clitus, please!

_Gri._ (_to Proc._). I ran to know, my lord, if you’ll have the boats.

_Ep._ Were any killed, Gripus? tell us.

_Gri._ ’Twas a wonder; all the folk had just left her, I near the last; I felt dizzy-like, and saw the street seem anyhow: then I looked at the theater, and she was full of crinks and chinks, when down she went all to pieces. A little sooner and we had been buried alive.

_1st Off._ Emperor and all.

_Se^{o.}_ O ye gods! (_drinking_) I drink to thee, old dustman (_to Gripus_).

_Pro._ Off with you, my men: in five minutes I’ll be aboard. (_To Epic._) Come, lass!

(_Mariners go out with Gripus._)

_Ep._ Come where, my lord?

_Pro._ Why, aboard with me.

_Ep._ Ha ha! I thank you, but I cannot.

_Pro._ Wouldst thou be buried alive?

_Ep._ There is my old bed-ridden mother, my lord;
I’ll not leave her. 275

_Pro._ Well, stick to your ship, like a true girl. You, Calvus, pay the charges and follow.

_Se^{o.}_ Who’s afraid now, my lord! Is it not the gods?

_Pro._ They take much pains to frighten us, sir.

[_Exit._

_Se^{o.}_ And me, with a wife and family. I care not.

_1st Off._ (_paying_). Thou’lt be buried with thy jars, Epicharis.

_Ep._ Balmed in good wine, eh! Add me yet a denarius for lord Senecio’s drink.

_Se^{o.}_ Two; I have drunk two.

_1st Off._ Here’s for him.

_Se^{o.}_ (_drinking_). Your health, sir! If you wish to know the cause of all this, I can inform you. ’Tis the emperor’s cursed singing hath done it. He hath offended the gods. To call himself Apollo on the one hand, and on the other to sing in the theatre. What else could he expect? I give him his due, he cares not for the gods.

_Ep._ He doth not, sir.

_Se^{o.}_ Nor I either: not much.

_1st Off._ Good-night, lass: may we meet again!

_Ep._ No fear. [_Exit 1st Off. with the others._

(_Senecio remains, and Clitus, who stands aloof._)

_Ep._ (_to Senecio_). Follow thou, follow them. 300

_Se^{o.}_ They won’t have me.

_Ep._ Nor will I. I wonder thou durst even show thy face after all thy vain promises. Thou that wouldst bring me to Cæsar, and I know not what.

_Se^{o.}_ I can, I shall yet.

_Ep._ Begone, see you, begone.

_Se^{o.}_ Look what I had brought thee (_showing a book_).

_Ep._ A book I do believe.

_Se^{o.}_ Purple edges and gold knops.

_Ep._ Seneca on morals, I suppose.

_Se^{o.}_ No. ’Tis Lucan’s book. This can bring thee to Cæsar. This little book hath great treasons in it.

_Ep._ Treason! ha! and I to inform, to show it to Cæsar?

_Se^{o.}_ Well, if not, think what his friends might give to recover it.

_Ep._ You should have sold it yourself and brought me the money.

_Se^{o.}_ ’Twould be guessed whence I whizzled it.

_Ep._ Wretch! in what villany wouldst thou snare me? Give it me. (_Takes it._) From whom didst thou steal it?

_Se^{o.}_ Only from a friend.

_Ep._ I’ll save thy friends from thee, and first myself. Begone! begone!

_Se^{o.}_ Thou wilt come to Rome, Epicharis?

_Ep._ (_thrusting him out_). Begone! [_Exit Senecio._ (_To Clitus_) Now, brother.

_Cli._ O sister, my sister, my Epicharis!
To hear that name defiled! In what a pit
Of sin thou livest, diest; ’mong the swine
Perishest! Ah, by God’s mercy, ’tis not too late:
Fly with me, fly!

_Ep._ Fly whither?

_Cli._ From thy sin.
If the Judge find thee here, thou’rt lost.

_Ep._ Dear Clitus,
What judge?

_Cli._ Why, He who made thee.

_Ep._ (_aside_). Alas! alas!

_Cli._ Be found with me, perchance I may prevail.

_Ep._ Where would you fly?

_Cli._ Last night in heavenly vision
Paul stood before me, as when three years ago
I saw him at Puteoli: one hand
Outstretched he stood and beckoned me to Rome.
Thither I go: ’tis my last call to thee:
Thou wilt not see me again until the day
When I shall hide my face for pity of thee,
And stop mine ears to hear thy anguished cry
For mercy, thy vain cry.

_Ep._ You go to Rome!

_Cli._ Think, sister: we were once so closely bound.
When we were children in what secret fondness
We linked our hands and hearts; how oft we pledged
Our innocent oaths that we would never part!
Now shall the great gulf fixed ’twixt heaven and hell
Divide us? I saved, and thou lost, for ever! 351
That endless life of glory I dread, with thee
Not there, not there!

_Ep._ Is’t to our uncle’s house
You go?

_Cli._ The house of Gaius on the Tiber,
The seventh door above the Cestian bridge:
There shalt thou find immortal life.

_Ep._ Dear brother,
Go not to Rome: your sect is there suspected.
Stay here: or, if you will go, stay at least
Till I can come with you.

_Cli._ The time is short.
Tarry not: come to-night!

_Ep._ Nay, not to-night.

_Cli._ I may not stay for thee.

_Ep._ I cannot come.

_Cli._ Thou wilt not come.

_Ep._ How can you bid me, Clitus,
To leave our helpless mother in all this terror?

_Cli._ Ah! thou wilt never come; thou’rt lost, lost, lost. [_Exit._

_Ep._ Pure, noble heart, why should I love thee more
Now thou art mad?—I did him wrong not yielding
To his delusions. He hath none to love him
But me, and I have let him think that I desert him.
—Go with him tho’ I cannot, I will follow,
And quickly too. To-morrow I’ll to Rome. [_Exit._

SCENE · 3

_A passage or ante-room in Seneca’s house in Rome._

_Enter SENECA with papers in his hand._

_SENECA_ (_calling_).

Paullina!— 371
Thus go my mornings: now ’tis scarce two hours
To dinner. (_Calling._) Paullina! Paullina!—The wretched beggars
Multiply every day. I feed half Rome
With doles. ’Tis fortunate that trading thrives.
Paullina!

_PAULLINA_ (_within_).

I hear thee: I come. (_Enters._)

_Sen._ Ah, here thou art!
Look, love, they are bringing wine to-day from Cales,
Ninety-two jars by the invoice;—lay them down
In the new cellar. Here’s two hundredweight
Of pepper that I have bought: see that be weighed
And warehoused, for the quoted price is low.
Next, this is Alban raisins, eighteen casks:
They may go with the pepper. A ship’s arrived
At Ostia laden with black Spanish wool:
Send that to the factor. That’s all: but remember
Our bailiff from Nomentum comes this afternoon:
He is short of hands. Mind he pick sturdy fellows;
And check the ration-bills to correspond.
Now lastly, love, I want five hundred copies
Made of my letters to Lucilius. 390
Bid the clerks set routine aside for this;
’Tis for the provinces. I am pleased, my love,
To think how good the work is; and ’tis new:
’Twill outlast the decayed light-heartedness
Of Horace: ’tis more suitable besides
For plain intelligence, and it should
The world.

_Pau._ You know I love it, but I fear
You work too hard. How is your health to-day?

_Sen._ A little headache only, and the old stiffness
In the back of my neck: ’tis gout. I think, Paullina,
That I should dine more frugally: to-day
Let it be roasted apples.

_Pau._ Why, you eat nothing:
You should take more, not less. Trust me to give you
What you should eat.

_Sen._ Well, I make no complaint:
Mine are small ailments, and ’tis highest health
To see thee well: what should I do without thee?
Why, all this business that thou takest upon thee
Is a man’s work, which, had I to attend to it,
Would rob me of my life: now I am free:
The day is my own.

_Pau._ How will you use my gift? 410

_Sen._ I am in the vein for writing.

_Pau._ The muse attend thee!

_Sen._ See thou, I have her with me.

(_Unrolls a book and goes into his library reading. Exeunt severally._)

SCENE · 4

_Room in Seneca’s house. Enter SENECA reading._

_SENECA._

_Father, and god of gods, almighty, eternal,
Invoked by many names, nature’s one lord;
Hail! for ’tis right that all men call on thee.
For we thine offspring are._—Well said, Cleanthes!
All things and creatures are as God’s possession,
But we his children: and the will we have
To thwart his will, he ruleth to his will,
Owning the ill which he did not create
But by permission; as thou goest to show.
(_Reading._) _Nor is there any work on earth astir,
But by the breath of thy divinity;
Nor in the starry pole, nor in the sea,
Save what the wicked in their foolish minds
Devise: but thou dost order the disorderly,
And even unlovely things are dear to thee._
Let fools hear that, thou second Hercules!
I should not fret; nay, and I shall not fret ...
There’s poignancy in the utterance of this Greek
That I attain not: whether it be the man
Lived nearer to his nature, or that my art
Clogs the clear hues of thought, and in a varnish
Drowns to one tone. Would I had written that!
And this too, where the bliss the poet prays for
His pregnant line is witness that he hath,
_A vision and a share of that high wisdom,
Wherewith thy justice governs all things well:
That honoured bý thee we return thee honour_ ... 440
That honoured by thee we return thee honour ...
That’s admirable, noble: I’ll write myself
Something like that. Ay, now I feel it within me:
And while I am warm.—(_A knocking at the door._)
Of course an interruption
Just as I am stirred. Come in! To mask vexation
In courtesy now.

_Enter Lucan, Priscus, Lateranus and Flavus._

_LUCAN._

My dear uncle, good morning.

_LATERANUS and others._

Good morning, my lord.

_Sen._ Welcome, good nephew Lucan.
Welcome, my lords. Thee, Lateranus, first
Let me congratulate: thou’rt chosen consul
I hear.

_Lat._ That’s a month hence. I care not, Seneca,
If I shall live to sacrifice my ox. 450

_Sen._ Most ominous words!

_Lat._ Excuse my liberty.

_Luc._ Liberty! nay, if thou have any of that,
Thou mayst indeed despair to live a month.

_Sen._ What purpose brings you, sirs? Pray you be seated.

(_They sit. Priscus apart._)[1]

What would you with me now?

_Lat._ We are come as friends.

_Sen._ No need to tell me this.

_Luc._ But yet there is,
Uncle; thy friends decrease.

[1] _FLAVUS_ ┌────┐
_LATERANUS_ _SENECA_ │ │ _PRISCUS_
_LUCAN_ └────┘

_Sen._ That may well be.
’Tis what old age must look for. I have my books.

_FLAVUS._

I never saw so many books before.

_Sen._ And all my good tried friends.

_Luc._ Uncle!

_Sen._ Eh!

_Luc._ They say
Poppæa hath Octavia’s head in the palace
To play with.

_Sen._ ’Tis a journaler’s lie.

_Luc._ Did Fulvia
Not pierce the tongue of Cicero dead?

_Sen._ Fie! fie!
Let journalers traduce their filthy souls:
Why bring ye me their scandals, when to truths,
That daily I must hear, I wish me deaf?

_Luc._ O sir, Rome thinks thou árt deaf: and men whisper
That creeping time devours thee sense by sense,
While thou, death’s willing prey, dost sit at home
Wreathing philosophies to hang the tomb
Of liberty, and crown the coward brows
Of icy oblivion. Sir, if this were true,
Well mightst thou wish not hear: but if thou hast not
Forgot the murder of Britannicus....

_Sen._ Hush, hush!

_Luc._ Or sweet Octavia’s wrongs....

_Sen._ Stay, nephew! I say.

_Luc._ The shame of her divorce....

_Sen._ None of this, prithee!
For true it is I wish I could forget.

_Luc._ Her transportation and imprisonment
Upon an outlawed isle; that calumny,
Dumb in her faultless presence, might dare trumpet
Charges incredible: and last her death 481
By a clumsy soldier, ’gainst whose butcher’s knife
She struggled childishly, to the stony walls
Screaming in terror. O sir, let no Roman,
Who hath one hand unbound, wish he were deaf.

_Sen._ Enough! enough!

_Luc._ Why this, sir, is a tale
Would damn a tragedy for the overdoing
Of the inhumanities.

_Sen._ Ay, and I think,
Nephew, it gains not by thy rhetoric.

_Lat._ But Nero, sir, is held thy pupil, and thou
In part discredited,—nay, none but thou
Since Burrus died.

_Sen._ Well, well: but Burrus’ death
Hath halved my power, and left the lesser half
Helpless in isolation.

_Lat._ That’s a fact.
We come, my lord, to bid thee join thy hand
With them that look to thee. There’s Fænius Rufus,
That’s now in Burrus’ place, another Burrus.

_Sen._ Another Burrus! Fifty Rufuses
Would make no part of Burrus. Why! I am grieved
More for his goodness, when I think of him, 500
Than by all Nero’s ill. My staunch friend was he,
Stern as a Roman, tender as a woman:
A simple mind, a clear head, and true heart;
Faithful, unblenched and certain of his path.
All that philosophy has ever taught me
He knew by instinct, and would hit the mark
With careless action, where my reason fumbled
And groped in the dusk. I say, if all the books
I have ever read or writ, could make one man
Like Burrus, with so natural a touch,
And such godlike directness, none would doubt
Of our philosophy.

_Luc._ But now he’s gone.

_Sen._ There’s none like Burrus.

_Lat._ Lo, my lord, I am one
To dare what Burrus never dared.

_Sen._ What’s that?

_Lat._ The tyrant’s death.

_Sen._ (_rising_). Ha! Now we have it!
Seal your lips and depart.—And thou too, nephew,
To seek to engage me!

_Lat._ First, my lord; our safety.

_Sen._ Alas, alas! Nay, leave me. I know nothing.
Ye heard I did but guess.

_Luc._ Thou didst guess right.

_Sen._ Ye have wronged me, gentlemen, choosing to make me
Privy to your distempered plots; but rightly
Judged that I would not sacrifice your lives
To save the monster’s. Nay: were Nero’s death
God’s will, as yours it seems, I might rejoice.
But in your scheme to whom would ye entrust
The absolute power? If Nero be pulled down,
Whom would ye bid us worship? The empire needs
A god,—or, if not that, a godlike man,
Plato’s philosopher for king.

_Lat._ Agreed!
’Tis a philosopher we have chosen, sir. 530

_Luc._ Speak not to us of kings and emperors, uncle;
Wé restóre the republic.

_Sen._ Hey! Is’t Thrasea
Ye would make emperor?

_Luc._ Thrasea hath no wealth
Nor favour with the people.

_Sen._ Who is’t then
That leads your dream a-dance?

_Lat._ Sir, ’tis no dream.

_Sen._ Who then?

_Fla._ (_advancing_). Hail, Cæsar, hail!

_Sen._ Why, man, what’s this?

_Fla._ We choose thee Cæsar.

_Luc._ We crown thee.

_Lat._ Hail, great Cæsar!

_Sen._ Me! madmen, me! Cæsar! me! I am retired ...
And—oh! no—never. Who hath chosen me?
Is this thy folly, nephew, when thou tell’st me
My friends decrease?

_Luc._ I said the truth: ’tis time
Thou rise and rally them. We have a party.

_Sen._ I have no party.

_Luc._ We may count for yours
All the republicans. Your oratory
Will win the senate, and your wealth the people.
Rufus is ours, and brings the guards; Vestinus,
The consul, ours; here’s Lateranus with us,
The consul designate; at Nero’s death
Corbulo and the eastern army... ’Tis no party:
’Tis all except a party.

_Sen._ Patience, nephew. 550
I weigh the names we count. I see . but . yet ...

_Luc._ Nero once slain, ’tis needful for the hour
To name an emperor. The pillaged world,
That tasted five years of thy regence, loves thee;
While those that would restore Rome’s public rule
Will hail thy leadership.

_Fla._ Princeps Senatus!

_Sen._ Pray, how far hath this gone?

_Luc._ I have sounded many,
And found them eager if but thou assent.
Yet none knows that we ask thee.

_PRISCUS._

Thrasea knows.

_Sen._ Ha! Priscus, thou hast been silent all this while:
And what said Thrasea?

_Pr._ In my credit, sir,
I may not tell.

_Sen._ Indeed! And while ye invite me
To plunge into the bowels of Hell, and wrap me
In the blóody purples of a murdered Cæsar,
Thou wouldst hide from me, for some petty scruple,
What my best friend says of it!

_Pr._ I should tell:—
He said you would refuse.

_Sen._ And he said right.
I do refuse.

_All._ Refuse!

_Luc._ Uncle, consider!

_Fla._ We cannot take that word, sir; ’tis not thine.
The state requires thee: there is none but thou. 570

_Sen._ My word is No, I will not.

_Luc._ Thou wilt nót?
Wilt nót throne virtue in the seat of might?
Not crown philosophy? and in thyself
Fulfil the dream of wisdom, which the world
Hath mocked at as impracticable?

_Sen._ Yea,
And yet shall mock. ’Tis not for me. Ye think
Because I am rich, that I despise not wealth;
Because I have been involved in courtly faction,
I loathe not crime; that what ye have seen to touch me,
Thát I would handle. Can ye thus mistake me?
And deem that I, being such an one to serve you,
Might be entrapped with flattery,—that ye style me
The one man worthy? ay, to rule the world
Ye said: Well! I shall rule it; but not so.
I make my throne here, and with these nibbed reeds
Issue my edicts to the simple-hearted,
To whom all rule shall come: Yes, it shall come
If God’s will count for aught.

_Pr._ My lord, consider.
This is the hour to set you right for ever.
’Twas of your doing Nero came to power: 590
Now with one word you may blot out the past.

_Sen._ Priscus, if thou didst think I was to blame
For all the wrongs and crimes, which by thy speech
Thou wouldst impute, wouldst thou be here to-day
To hail me Cæsar? ’Tis a stingless taunt.

_Lat._ Thou shalt not be reproached.

_Fla._ We do not blame thee.

_Luc._ We ask but thy consent.

_Sen._ Shame, nephew; shame!

_Lat._ Sir, you mistake: we ask not your consent
Unto the deed.

_Fla._ We take that on ourselves.

_Lat._ We ask of thee but this: Nero once slain,
Wilt thou be Cæsar?

_Sen._ No, sir: I will not.

_Fla._ Thou wilt not change thy books for provinces?

_Sen._ No, sir.

_Lat._ Dost thou refuse?

_Luc._ Oh, uncle, uncle!

_Fla._ My lord, allow me.

_Luc._ Hear what I would say.

_Sen._ I know it, nephew, afore. Now let this end.
’Tis said.

_Pr._ I was prepared, my lord, for this:
And we at least may spare you further danger
Of our suspicious conference. I go. (_Moving._)

_Sen._ The ill is done.

_Fla._ One word. Nero must die;
And whosoe’er but thou steps in his place 610
Must also die; for none is worthy. Come
At once, ere more be slain. This ends not here.

_Sen._ Thou dost say right: this ends not here: if more
Shall die, thou bearest some blame of it. Farewell!
God can bend all to good: this, which to me
Seems ill, may not be so.

_Lat._ (_going_). Sir, I shall trust you.

_Sen._ Indeed fear not. Now, for my safety & yours,
Leave me, I pray. Farewell!

_All_ (_going_). Farewell! [_Exeunt._

_Sen._ Nay, can it be? Fools! can it be they cried
Seneca, Cæsar? My hand is trembling, my sense
Swimming: ’tis true: my mortal stroke, & dealt me
By would-be friends. The way that least I expected,
When I least looked for it—yea—thus cometh Death.
No hope. I am named. But ah! thou bloody tiger,
Who slewest her that bare thee, now I that trained thee
Might ... yea, I might.—The whole world for a bait
Dangles upon the hook, and I refuse.
I would not; nay, I could not ... What then do?
Stand firm? with my poor palsied limbs,
Stand firm? budge not a hair, as Burrus put it? 630
—So take rank in the monster’s tale of murders:
My gravity in his comedy of crime:
Suffer in my last act of serious life
His hypocritical smile, his three or four
Crocodile tears: be waved off with a smirk,
‘A sacrifice to the safety of the state’?
Oft have I thought of death, to brave his terror,
But ne’er forereckoned thus.... Why, it were better
To give life its one chance, still play the game.
That may well be: That I’ll do: all my skill
Summon to aid me: else ’tis my death,—the end:
That execrable nothing which no art
Of painful thought can reconcile....

_Enter Paullina excitedly._

_PAULLINA._

Seneca, Seneca!
The Circus Maximus is burned; the fire
Hath reached the embankment—Ah, they have told you?

_Sen._ Nay:
What didst thou say?

_Pau._ The fire, my lord, the fire.
The Circus is burned down, and the Velabrum
Is now a field of flame, that waves in the wind.
Rome will be burned.

_Sen._ A general calamity
Might turn attention from me.

_Pau._ My lord, you are strange.

_Sen._ Paullina, it matters not to me or thee
If the whole world should burn: a little while
And all is nought. There have been here this morning
The heads of a conspiracy.

_Pau._ A conspiracy!

_Sen._ To murder Nero.

_Pau._ Indeed I wonder not.

_Sen._ But who is the man, thinkst thou, whom they would take
To set up in his place; who, if they fail,
Must fall a sacrifice? Who least desires
The crown? Who least deserves the death? ’Tis he.

_Pau._ Not thee! ah, ah, my lord, not thee!

_Sen._ Take comfort,
Be brave, Paullina; check thy tears: there is hope;
There is yet a hope. I shall renounce my wealth,
Place my possessions all in Cæsar’s hands,
And stripped to naked, harmless poverty
Fly Rome and power for ever: such a life 665
I have praised and well may lead—philosophy
Graced by the rich graceth the poor, and I,
Who have sought to crown her, may be crown’d by her.
I’ll save my life’s last remnant with applause.
Weep not, there’s hope: yes, there is yet a hope.

ACT · II

_A room in the palace, with large windows at back, and doors right and left. The scene remains unchanged throughout the act._

_SENECIO, SCEVINUS and QUINTIAN._

_SCEVINUS._

’Tis abominable, sir. What’s your net loss?

_SENECIO._

I ask you, Quintian, as a man of culture and erudition, what do you make of it?

_QUINTIAN._

You admit that Cæsar was not drunk?

_Se^{o.}_ Had he been drunk, he had had some excuse. ’Twas past midnight when he burst in, turned us all out of bed, and ordered the house to be pulled down; and I a married man. I have a wife and daughters.

_Sce._ Married! well, I never knew that. So your house is pulled down. 681

_Se^{o.}_ And half the street, for that matter.

_Qu._ ’Twas done to stay the fire: ’twas well done.

_Se^{o.}_ But we were reckoning our danger past: and ’twas so situated, that if he wished to protect his palace he had choice of some four streets: and he chooses mine, and begins with me, my house, Senecio’s house; Senecio his sworn comrade. I have played housebreaker and looker on to him these eight years, and helped to save his life a score of times from injured husbands and common fellows....

_Sce._ You do not stand with him as you did.

_Se^{o.}_ Nay, nor you.

_Qu._ And he hath made verses on me, which he will recite in all company when I am present.

_Se^{o.}_ ’Tis that long-nosed cad Vatinius who hath undermined me.

_Sce._ And all of us. We are put down by a coarse pig.

_Qu._ He hath no true wit, no true humour. 701

_Sce._ The commoner a man is now, the better will he like him.

_Se^{o.}_ It used not to be so: he was once thick with me.

_Sce._ He hath sunk to depths.

_Qu._ With his acting and singing.

_Se^{o.}_ I believe ’twas he set fire to the city. I would the earthquake had swallowed him!

_Qu._ Well, I’ll not be civil to his buffoon any longer.

_Se^{o.}_ A gentleman must draw the line somewhere.

_Sce._ Hark, then! Shall we unite in some plan of lordly revenge?

_Se^{o.}_ I care not; I’d as lief run him through and have done with it.

_Sce._ Are you in earnest? Mean you what you say? Would you join the patriots?

_Se^{o.}_ I care not.

_Qu._ Could we not raise a quarrel between Tigellinus and Vatinius?

_Sce._ Poison the brutes both.

_Se^{o.}_ All three of ’em, damn ’em!

_Qu._ Hush thou! here they come.

_Enter Nero, Tigellinus and Vatinius._

_NERO._

Ha! Here’s my Quintian! 725
The pale Parnassian reptile, that hath ne’er
Moistened his leathery tongue in Hippocrene....
Nay, laugh not so immoderately, I fear
Your sides may split.

_TIGELLINUS._

O no, thou god of the world,
Thou hast practised them too well.

_Qu._ And I, your majesty,
Am proud to move your jovial lips to smile.

_VATINIUS._

We all believe it, while thy writhing grin
Makes us such sport.

_Qu._ (_aside_). Curse on this ugly brute!

_Ner._ Mind him not, Quintian; we are in good spirits.
We have worked all night like firemen, and saved the palace
If not the city. Ha! Senecio, tell us,
How stands it with thy house?

_Se^{o.}_ Permit me, sire,
To thank you for the imperial favour shewn
To my poor dwelling.

_Ner._ Thank Vatinius:
’Twas his idea.

_Se^{o.}_ Then, sir, I thank thee humbly,— 740
(_Aside._) Till I can kill thee.

_Vat._ The emperor and I
Are glad to serve you; we are very free
To all the race.

_Ner._ ’Tis true:—Senecio,
Thou wilt remember well the merry nights,
When I and thou and Otho inaugurated
My reign with freaks of license: since that time
What steps we have made! I laugh when I recall
Those timorous revellings in the dark, and how
’Twas deemed a scandal Cæsar should be seen
Horse-racing. What misgivings when I first
Opened my circus on the Vatican!
But what applause! Then I saw Rome was with me,
Nor ever have doubted since: in other games
Outrunning popularity, till now,
—My thanks to Tigellinus—there’s scarce one
Of all the noblest houses that can brag
It hath not sent some actor to the stage,
Or wrestler to the theatre: and I crowned
My triumph in Naples, when ye saw, ye heard,
Ye applauded.—Would it be believed that when
I came to the throne I might not, in my palace,
Sing my own song at supper?

_Se^{o.}_ Glorious Cæsar,
The Gods deny you nothing.

_Tig._ Thyself a god,
By destiny their peer.

_Vat._ Perfect Apollo!
In music equal, and in medicine ... (_Acts taking poison_).

_Tig._ (_hastily_). Above all gods in this, that full success
Attests thy wisdom.

_Ner._ Well, and is’t not sense
To seek for happiness the natural way?
Not by the notions of philosophers,
Who fashion theoretic right and wrong 770
From books; or if they judge mankind at all,
Judge by themselves, who are unlike the rest,
Scarce human. ’Tis the soundest principle
To follow nature; and what nature is
I well perceive. I judge all by myself:
The appetites are universal gifts:
Cæsar will never stoop to flatter Cæsar
By such pretence of difference, nor withhold
From others what himself loves. I believe
That no man in the world worth calling man
Is what philosophers term pure and good;—
Nor woman either. All would gratify
The strong desires of nature, and all shall,
While I am emperor.

_Tig._ Blessed be the god,
Who first named thee for rule.

_Sce._ We all admire.

_Ner._ Is it not sense?

_Tig._ ’Tis commonsense.

_Vat._ I wonder
None ever thought of it before.

_Ner._ Tut! fool;
That is the greatness: ’tis the common thing
For man to beat about. True genius
Is but simplicity: all great inventions
Seem first devices.

_Tig._ ’Tis a revolution.

_Ner._ Just so: in ethics as in politics.
I let the world wag as it will; and if
The world mistake its will, then I am Cæsar
To wag it.

_Vat._ Here’s a flaw, good wag; you judge
The appetites of all men by your own:
The standard is too high.

_Ner._ We’ll see to that;
By one experiment I’ll strangle doubt.
This is my plan. I mean to hold a fête,
Say at Agrippa’s pool:—the folk will need 800
Some such diversion when the fire is o’er:—
Thither I’ll draw all Rome, with novel shows,
Sea-fights and monsters; round about the water,
Along the bank, I shall have wine-booths set,
Brilliant with luxury and enticement, wine
Gratis; and to all comers night and day
They shall stand open. Now I’ll have these booths
Kept by the Roman ladies:—that’s my plan.
They shall have license, everything permitted
But interference. We will watch our Trojans,
How they conduct themselves.

_Vat._ This is simplicity.

_Ner._ (_aside to Tig._). And mark the disaffected.

_Tig._ (_aside_). Here’s a trap
To catch all but the vermin.

_Sce._ A grand invention.

_Ner._ The details, my good master, are for you:
Our three friends here may help.

_Sce., Se^{o.} and Qu._ (_bowing_). Our humble thanks.

_Enter a Servant._

_Ner._ (_to Servant_). What is it?

_SERVANT._

Lord Seneca is in attendance, sire.

_Tig._ (_to Ner._). Send the old man home to his wife.

_Ner._ What can he come for?

_Vat._ Is’t not the hour for lessons?

_Ner._ Now what say you
To have him in, and make him of your council
For the ordering of the fête (_To Serv._) Go shew
him here. [_Exit Servant._

_Tig._ (_aside to Nero_). Jest not with this man, Cæsar;
Thrasea and he
Are your worst enemies.

_Ner._ Mighty enemies!

_Tig._ If there were no pretenders.

_Ner._ What do you mean?

_Tig._ (_apart with Nero_). My only pleasure is thy service, Cæsar:
If ’tis thy will that Tigellinus die,
I’ll be thy sacrifice and welcome death.
The mob shall tear me, as they tore Sejanus,
And tread my mangled corpse on Tiber’s steps:
But pardon Nature’s shudderings, they come
At sound of these men’s names.

_Ner._ Why, know you not
I am reconciled with Thrasea, since I put 831
His motion to the senate? While he lets me
Go my way, he goes his.

_Tig._ And Seneca?

_Ner._ Pooh!

_Tig._ Cæsar said well these men were not to fear,
If there were no pretenders.

_Ner._ What pretenders?

_Tig._ Sylla and Plautus are the first to name.

_Ner._ Both are retired from Rome.

_Tig._ And whither, Cæsar?
Mark you that Sylla is retired to Gaul,
Fire to the tinderbox: those doughty legions
Forget not how they crossed the Rubicon.
And where is Plautus? close by Corbulo,
Whose army is a créature of díscipline,
To serve him as his fingers....

_Ner._ Corbulo, now! my prince of generals,
Rome’s trusty dexter arm.

_Tig._ Trust not that giant!
Nature packed not his mighty body full
Of intrepidity for nought. I well
Remember when I sat by him at supper,
The day he took his baton; how his triumph
Was undisguised; and whén Cæsar was mentioned—
You happed to have won a horse-race....

_Ner._ And what said he?

_Tig._ No word, else had I told it; he but hemmed:
But the couch shook. In his big iron chest
A thunder rumbled, such as Jove might make
If he found Juno faithless.

_Ner._ Ha, ha, ha!
He’ll crunch us, think you, master? But this Sylla
Is poor as a rat: and Plautus, if he is wealthy,
Lives moderately.

_Tig._ Poor men are poor in scruples:
And rich men that live moderately, be sure,
Hide some rich purpose.

_Ner._ Had these men a purpose,
It would be bruited.

_Tig._ It is bruited.

_Ner._ Ha! 861
That’s so?

_Tig._ ’Tis also hoped that, being a pair,
The one may fight the other and both be slain.

_Ner._ That is a trouble we can spare them, master:
That were a pity.—I thank you, Tigellinus:—
Take you the order for their deaths; but mind,
Secretly, secretly. Here’s Seneca.

_Enter Seneca._ (_Scevinus, Senecio and Quintian still stand aside._)

_Tig._ (_aside_). Two of my foes wiped out; now, Mister Seneca,
I take you next.

_Ner._ Good Seneca, what wouldst thou?

_SENECA._

Cæsar, I ask
A private interview.

_Ner._ ’Tis private here:
This is my privy-council.

_Vat._ Rome’s triumvirate.
Ha, ha! we rule the world! (_Tableau._)
(_Gesturing._) Come, trust thy secret
In Cæsar’s ear, my lord.

_Se^{o.}_ (_aside to Sce._). Let us make up
To Seneca by going out.

_Sen._ As Cæsar wills.

_Sce._ (_to Nero_). Cæsar’s august permission!
We are not stoics.

_Ner._ I understand you, sir:
You may withdraw.