SENECA.
Burrus was right. The more I think of it,
The time has come that one or both must go;
So the more dangerous first, then are we quit
1013At once of all our mischief and disgrace.
’Tis past belief that she who plunged in crime
To enthrone her son should now plot to dethrone him.
There is no bridle for a wicked woman.
Men may despise the venerable path
Of virtue, and refuse the wholesome laws
Of plain philosophy, but still they lean
1020Towards reason, even in their wickedness.
There’s an accountable consistency
Found in their actions; but if once a woman
Throw off, as men soon do, the first restraints
Of credulous childhood; if her nature lack
Tenderness, modesty, and that respect
To self which sees in self a thing to guard
From passion and caprice, and in the pleasure
Of fitness finds a law,—if she lack that
Or overpass it,—there’s no further bound:
1030All things are mixed together; virtue, crime,
Wisdom and folly. For they have a spirit
Of infinite wrong genius. Rule, I say,
Such women if you can; rule them with iron.
Enter Nero.
NERO.
Good-morrow, Seneca. Thou comest in time;
I need thy counsel.
Sen.I am here to give it.
Ner. Then tell me: Where I have been lately threatened,
Am I in danger? I will use thy judgment.
Is’t needful for my safety to remove
Britannicus?
Sen.I have well considered all.
1040You must dismiss your mother.
Ner.Not so, Seneca.
She now resigns all power and sign of empire,
And is content to live in quiet, retired
With few attendants and contracted state.
Ner.See, since she now concedes
All reasonable claims, my duty towards her
Patches our quarrel.
Sen.Whence this newborn trust?
Ner. She must remain. What of Britannicus?
Sen. He need not trouble you.
Ner.So said my mother.
I had thought differently, and even had made
1050Full preparation for his going hence.
Would’st thou too bid me think there is no danger?
Sen. None, if your mother goes.
Ner.But nay, she stays.
Sen. That makes him dangerous.
Ner.Thy reason, Seneca?
Sen. I well can guess, Nero, your mother’s vein
With you in private: but ’twould much divert
Your inclination from it, could you know
Her latest way with me.
Ner.What hath she said?
Sen. Will you now think she hath urged Burrus and me
To set our honoured oaths and firm allegiance
1060To you aside, as being unjustly sworn;
To undo all she has done, and bring Britannicus
Back to the people as Rome’s rightful heir?
Sen.True; but then she vows
Plainly that, rather than resign her power,
She will make known her crimes, nor spare herself,
If in the implication of her ruin
She may involve us too. Know you of that?
Ner. She could not mean it.
Sen.Certainly ’twas in passion
1070Spoken, and fury: but ’tis such a thing
As might be done in passion.
Ner.And what says Burrus?
Sen. He too would urge, as I, the Augusta’s exile.
Ner. Yet must she stay.
Sen.Nay, Nero, she must go.
Ner. I bade thee, Seneca, to counsel me:
Call’st thou this counsel? ’Tis in the exigence
Of such affairs that their necessity
Precludes the true decision: this thou’st taught me:
And that the man of counsel is but he
Who handles best the circumstance, most gently
Resolves the knot, not cuts it. In this difficulty
1081Is there no course?
Sen.I go not back from this;
If both remain there’s none.
Ner.Is my life threatened?
Ner.Then Britannicus must go, and shall go,
As first I purposed.
Sen.Whither will you send him?
Ner. Far out of hearing of his claim. ’Tis not
A trifling matter.
Sen.See now to the other extreme
How you o’erleap the mean from wrong to wrong!
Ner. Such wrongs the title of my power condones.
Shall I at the outset of a world-wide policy
1090Stick at a household scruple, and for fear
To do a private wrong forfeit the power
Which makes me Cæsar? See my glory trip
At a little ill because I will not level
My safety with the welfare of the world?
Sen. But what you must not, that you cannot do.
Ner. Rather what Cæsar must do, that he may.
Rome understands not empire yet: we learned
Something of Herod.
Sen.O the injustice, Nero!
The wrong! How! Will you sooner spill a life
1100So innocent, your creditor in kindness,
Than do disgrace to another, one so guilty
As to deserve, sinking all exigency,
The fearful penalty you now misplace?
Think twice.
Ner. Why, if I think of it again,
Is not thy error fourfold more than mine?
This need is granted to all tyrannies,
To slay pretenders, ay, and most of all
Those of the family: but for a mother,
The very Persian or the unrivalled Jew
1110Would shrink from her dishonour.
Sen. (aside). What to say?
Being out of kinship ’twere the lesser blot—
Yet there’s his innocence. Necessity
Cannot suborn morality so far
As such confusion,—nor the alternative
May yet be shunned,—and when the best is wrong ...
Ner. What thinkest thou?
Sen.Wait: it shall be my office
To find some better means.
Ner.’Twill be thine office
To show in such a speech as I may make
After his death, that, howsoe’er he died,—
Which you shall know no more than shall my hearers,—
1121’Twas for the general good.
Sen.Be counselled, Nero.
This is not my advice.
Ner.Thou offerest none
Which can be taken.
Ner.’Tis long.
Sen.The matter
Being very weighty, ’twill be looked for from you
To say thus much: but if it seem too long,
’Tis so composed that with these brackets here,
Skipped as you list, the speech is any length.
Ner. I thank thee. I shall need that other speech.
1130
Sen. I pray you may not need it. My advice
Is wait.
Ner.Is it? Stay—Seneca, dost thou think
My mother was in earnest when she urged
Treason on thee and Burrus? And dost thou think
She fooled me in saying that she made proposal
To Burrus but to sound his honesty?
Sen. Eh! with that tale she took you?
Ner.Is’t not true?
Sen. That true!
Ner.She was in earnest though in passion?
Answer me.
Sen. Ay, she was.
Ner.I pray thee leave me.
I shall not wait.[Exit Seneca.
1140I stand alone. Such officers as share
The functions of tyrannic government
Cannot be looked to for a policy
Of personal security; they lack
The motive that abates the fear of crime.
Britannicus must go, and ’tis my hand
Must aim his death. I have a medicine
Which he must drink for me, to save my life.
To-night shall do it. But for my other enemy,
My mother, who with such dissimulation
1150Won me, spite of foreknowledge of her deeds,
And judgment of her purpose—Ha! indeed;
Seneca’s laughing-stock! Now, what I do
Will much surprise her. If it kill her hope
And prove my temper towards her, ’twill be well.
[Exit.
SCENE · 2
Room in Domitia’s house. Enter DOMITIA and PARIS.
DOMITIA.
Come hither, Paris!
Thou art my freedman.
PARIS.
Ay, madam.
Par.Ay, madam.
Dom.Would’st thou now
Retrieve thy purchase money?
Par.Dost thou say
Thou wilt restore me that for any service
I can perform?
Dom.I do.
Par.But name the deed.1160
Dom. Dost thou remember Crispus Passienus?
Par. Could I forget thy honoured husband, madam,
That was my master?
Dom.Paris, thou hast a wife,
And thy wife hath a sister ..
Par.Ay.
Dom.How think’st thou
Thy wife would love her sister, if that sister
Supplanted her with thee, sowed seeds of hate,
Contrived divorce, and when thou wert divorced
Should marry thee herself?
Par.Madam, I know
Thy wrong, and share thy hate.
Dom.That was not all.
Par. Not all?
1170
Dom.Nay, listen, Paris: if I forget
My kinship in my hatred, I have cause.
I loved him, and have now no thought in life
But to avenge his murder.
Par.Why! can’st thou think?...
Dom. Think! do I think? I cannot speak of it.
If ’tis suspicion, be it so—and yet ...
Well, thou hast seen my heart—even were my sister
Kind I should not forgive: but seeing she works
Against me still to drive me from the court,
I put my strength with Cæsar, to disbarrass
1180The palace of this plague. Say wilt thou aid me?
Par. The favour Cæsar shows me binds me, lady,
To have no thought but his; and if his mother
Misses his love, ’tis not made up by mine.
Dom. I’d have thee on my side whate’er I do.
I have now contrived a scheme which hangs on thee
To bring it home.
Par.I will do anything
That will not touch my life.
Dom.She is hard to catch.
Late, when she plotted with Britannicus,
Though ’twas as clear as day, when brought to question
She quite out-faced us all.
Enter Servant.
SERVANT.
Dom.Admit him.[Exit Servt.
Paris, I’ll tell thee later of my plans.
Meanwhile keep close with Nero: let me hear
Aught he lets fall that might advance our matter:
Seleucus’ visit is a part of it;
I’ll speak with him alone.
Par.Madam, I go.[Exit.
Enter Seleucus.
Dom. How now, Seleucus? Foiled!
SELEUCUS.
I warned you, lady,
How impotent and vain an arm hath truth
Unhelped by art.
Dom.Thou did’st but well, and now
1200I shall lean more on thee. Hast thou persuaded
Poppæa of her fortune?
Sel.Ay, my lady,
I promised her two Cæsars.
Dom.Two! how two?
Sel. A secret that of art; our divination
Hath many such. The gods are favourable.
Dom. Talk not to me of gods. One was enough;
Yet the other matters not. Two Cæsars indeed!
Most favourable gods!—See, here I give you
Two hundred sesterces: but for that sum
Require another service.
Sel.I thank you, madam.
Dom. Locusta hath been seen with Nero.
Sel.Ah,1210
How knew you that?
Dom.Attend to what I say.
I fear ’tis for Britannicus: the Empress,
Ridding herself, cannot have quitted him.
If ’tis his death is aimed at—and ’tis for thee
To probe and reach the truth—then if ’tis possible
Thou must prevent it. Go, give him a message,
He must not sup with Cæsar if he is bid.
Find you the probabilities, and lay
The warning where is need.
Sel.’Twere a good office, lady.
Dom. Go quickly then. If thou do well in this,
1221I will reward thee well.
SCENE · 3
The room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA and MAID.
MAID.
Madam, the litter waits.
POPPÆA.
Give me my mirror, miss.
Why, see how slovenly thou’st done my hair;
’Tis out already.
Maid.With your pardon, madam,
’Tis very well. Nay, ’tis as firm as a rock.
You look your best to-night.
Pop.Where is the flower
I gave thee?
Maid.Here, my lady.
Pop.Put it in.
There, there. Ay, that will do. Now where’s my
cloak?[Exit Maid.
Enter Otho.
OTHO.
So then you are going?
Oth.You are always free
To have your way; but when your wish is mine,
It is twice yours. This time you know ’tis not:
And were I used to set constraint upon you,
Could it be said Otho e’er crossed his wife
With a command, it should be now: I’d say
This I forbid.
Pop.And why?
Oth.I entreat you, dearest.
Pop. I am pledged to go.
Oth.Go not.
Pop.There’s now no choice.
Oth. A light excuse would serve: a sudden sickness,
A cold, a headache. Do not go.
Pop.Why, look!1240
If you are not jealous, Otho! jealous, jealous.
You see not straight.
Oth.I see you smile on Cæsar.
Pop. And think you, then, I must have turned my love
Where I have smiled? that I would play you false
For the pleasure of it?
Oth.Why then sup with Cæsar?
Pop. A trifle hangs upon him I would wear,—
The world.
Think: to be Cæsar’s mistress for a year
Is not to rule the world.
Pop.I will be Cæsar’s wife.
Oth. Ah! look you then so high?1250
Pop. Who shall be called my rival?
Oth.Cæsar’s wife.
Pop. She hinders not.
Oth.Oh, thou would’st never dare it,
Did’st thou not love him.
Pop.What should I not dare?
Oth. Hast thou considered well the ambiguous style
Thou goest to take, and yet determined?
Pop.Ay.
Oth. ’Tis death, ’tis death. I speak now but for thee:
Not for myself. The cup Octavia drinks
To quit thy place thou too wilt come to taste.
Pop. That is my risk. The sport were tame without it:
1260The game can boast a sting.
Oth.Weigh well the danger:
Think of it thus; to live on a caprice
Whose jealousy is death; where for the reason
One seems to love thee will be ten to hate thee;
Where not to be beforehand with a treachery
Is to be victim.
Oth. And for this desperate venture wilt cast off
My love, our love?
Pop.What is love?
Oth.Art thou Poppæa?
Wer’t any else but thou that questioned thus,
My answer then were ready: I should say
1270Ask of Poppæa, ’tis the thing she knows;
Ask Otho’s wife what love is, she can tell.
And thou to ask! as if ’twere some strange matter
Wide of experience, and to ask of me
Who won thee for my teacher!
Pop.’Tis true the impeachment
I make of love is that he hath exhausted
His treasure rather than denied us aught.
Oth. Exhausted love! how mean you?
Pop.See! I am made
Of other stuff and passions besides love.
You cannot wish that all my life should move
1280Pent in this narrow circle, day by day
Keeping the pretty game up which I learned
When I was green: that I should ne’er do else
Than this one thing, and that so constantly
That even the habit and the practice of it
Are scarce employment; that I should grow grey,
And see the wide and seasonable field
Of life’s exertion and excitement fallow
With this one weed of love?
Oth.A weed, you say!
Pop. I have other motions in me. I’ve an itch
1290Men call ambition, and I see a prize
Looks worth the having.
Oth.’Tis not worth the having.
Pop. Why, what were I to thee, could’st thou be Cæsar?
Oth. Even all thou art; I have no itch to rule
Merely to see that game played out, and cry
At the end—what is ambition?
Pop.It hath no end.
Oth. ’Tis plain love hath an end.
Pop.Nay, as I love thee,
I still shall love thee. Only, Otho ....
Oth.What?
Pop. I thought your eye was open to perceive
The grandeur of my scheme.
Oth.Thou wert mistaken.
Pop. Upon what falls to-night, let us decide.1300
I have no secrets from you: if I prosper,
Desert me if you will, but blame me not:
For dared I combat Cæsar’s inclination
There were as much to lose. The thing I do
Will be your safety.
Pop.Nay, speak not so.
I shall do nothing base.
Oth.Thou must succeed.
Only before thou goest I’ll kiss thee once.[Kisses Pop.
1310Otho’s last kiss. Farewell.
Pop.Good night. I go.
Lesbia, my cloak! I shall have news ere morn.[Exit.
Oth. Gone! With a grace
As firm, as pleasant, gay and self-possessed
As that with which she hath come a thousand times
To meet me, kiss me, and call me hers, she goes
To change her husband .. gone! and not a sign
To show that leaving me was losing aught!
Fool that I was! To the soul I knew her vain,
Self-seeking, light, petulant at the breath
1320Of contradiction, and yet I trusted. What,
Asks she, is love. Ay, what? I love my dog;
He is devoted beyond reason, pitiful
In his dependence; he will scarce reproach me
With some short wondering sorrow, if I strike him—
I love my horse; he bears me willingly,
Answering spiritedly; with all his strength
Generous and gentle. But woman, if man love her,—
Seeing she is less devoted than the hound,
Less noble than the horse,—’tis that we deem,
1330That being human she can gauge the worth
Of our intensity, and in kind somewhat
Repay it: ’tis a delusion; spite of shew,
She hath not in her heart that which her eyes
Fondly declare. There is no passion possible
Which beauty can interpret or soft speech
Express, which was not mine; ay, by that title
O’er and o’er; yet I think no dog in Rome
Would leave the meanest slave that fed him once,
As hath this woman left the man that loved her.
[Knocking.
Enter Lucan and Petronius.
LUCAN.
Ha! here he is. We have come to fetch you, Otho.
Oth. I do not go to-night.1341
PETRONIUS.
Not go! What is’t, man?—ill?
Oth. My wife has gone, therefore I do not go:—
You see the matter, maybe have foreseen it;
I was too blind. Spare me your condolence;
I do not wish even sympathy. You know
I loved her, but ’tis over. Let me give you
Such knowledge as I wish my friends to have,
Else might they mistake somewhat. See! she is gone
1350To-night against my wish: ’tis nothing more:
But this will lead to much. I let my house;
Sell you my wine, Petronius, if you wish it,
And take—I shall not want for interest—
The Lusitanian proconsulate.
Luc. You go from Rome?
Oth.I do.
Petr.Break not with Cæsar.
Oth. I’ll take employment.
Petr.Jove! I think you’re wise,
Otho; you’re wise. I’ve half a mind myself
To give my friends the slip. But as it is,
Well..come, I’ll take the wine; what is your price?
1360
Oth. The price I gave.
Petr.A bargain. I shall send for it.
Luc. (to Otho). Otho, I will not go. Although thy wrong
Cannot be stayed, yet would I rather die
Than sit and smile on it.
Oth.I thank thee, Lucan.
I’d ask thee rather look upon the matter
As on a thing of course: I think it is.
Go, take no note of it.
Luc.If ’tis thy wish.
Oth. It is. Good night.
SCENE · 4
A room in the Palace. Enter AGRIPPINA.
AGRIPPINA.
Thus must it be then. I must be cast out,
Turned from the palace, lodged in a private house,
1370Retired, reduced, forgotten, like any relic
Of barbarous royalty, caged out of reach
Of good or ill; my state just so much show
As has no meaning. Now may some god of mischief
Dare set me in the roll of puny spirits.
Ah!—Hath this my seal, seemeth it? O may my foes
Be fooled so far to think that guile will stay
First in catastrophe. Nay, if I crouch,
’Tis but to plant a foot whence I may bound
With braver spring.—I am clear; the right’s my hope.
1380Right against blood hath still been honourable.
Men love the name of Brutus. The first Brutus
Slew his own son; the last his Cæsar. Ha!
’Tis madness; nay, that’s not my thought, not that.
’Twould fright the world that there should be a woman
Who could slay Cæsar and son in one. Nay, nay,
That lies beyond all fate. Yet, short of that,—
O blood, thou sacrament and bond of nature,
Look to the strain: summon thy best allies,
Thy yearnings and thy shudderings, thy terrors
And dreams of dread; marshal the myriad fingers
1391Of scorn and hate: else, O thy rottenness
Will out. Indeed I think thou’rt a weak thing,
Bred of opinion; when I would have trusted thee,
Hath not that other rivet of thy chain
Snapped at the mutual end? Thy boasted anchor
Drags on the bottom, and my ship drifts on
To the rocks, to the rocks: missing that hold, the sense
Is dizzy with madness; ay, and whither I go
Is hidden; nor aught I know, save that the future,
1400Whate’er it be, I shall do much to make.
Enter Britannicus.
Ah! ah! ’tis thee.
Speak softly, for these walls have ears.
BRITANNICUS.
Thou thinkest
That Cæsar watches me.
Agr.To-day thy spies
Are mine, but must not hear.
Br.Hast thou seen Burrus?
Agr. He is thine enemy: no hope from him.
Br. I would not have this spoken of as my hope.
Agr. True, boy. I mentioned not thy name, and Nero,
Being now persuaded thou art innocent,
Forgives thee. Let the risk I ran for thee
1410Be earnest of more good.
Br.I thank thee for it.
Agr. ’Tis nothing, this. Thou yet shalt reign.
Br.I pray thee
Draw me not into thy deep-plotted schemes
That rush on guilt. If I have hope or wish,
’Tis but to live till the divorce be writ
’Twixt Cæsar and my sister: that is not long
To wait; and then her exile, which must follow,
If I may share, I think some days of peace
May be in store for both. That is my hope,
Not Rome, nor empire, but some tranquil spot
1420Where innocence may dwell, and be allowed
To be its own protection.
Agr.Are you that fool?
Br. I would none doubted it.
Agr.Can it be possible
That thou, who in thy veins hast the best blood
Of Rome, should’st own so beggarly a spirit,
And being the heir of all the world should’st wish
Only to hide thy claim, so thou may’st live
The life which broken-hearted slaves, and men
Diseased and aged scarce prize?
Agr.Nay, then I have more to say.
Br. I too might say somewhat. Is it not strange,
1431Thou being a lady, should’st possess a heart
So fond of wrong, and blood, and wrathful deeds?
Agr. Ah, ah! Thou thinkest that thou know’st me rightly,
And yet would’st dare to taunt me, and to thwart
My stablished purpose? Child, I say, remember
The deeds thou castest in my teeth, and think
Whether it were not much better now at last
To side with me, and take the help I proffer.
I have sworn to set thee on the throne; think twice
Ere thou oppose my will.
Br.Did’st thou not say1440
Thou had’st persuaded Nero of my innocence?
Agr. Say I was wrong.
Br.Nay, thou wert right in that,
Wrong now returning on disclaimed ambition.
Agr. Art thou content to see thyself deposed,
Thy sister thus dishonoured ....
Br.Say no more.
Agr. Consider!
Br.Nay, I’ll not consider.
Br.No more. I will not join thee.
Agr. Then hear me, child. Whether thou join or not,
1450Whether thou wilt be Cæsar, or refusest,
Thou shalt be Cæsar. If thou wilt not plot,
It shall be plotted for thee: in my hands
I hold thy life, and guard it but for this,
To make thee Cæsar. Ay, and if thou shrinkest
When the day comes, I’ll have a doll made like thee;
My men shall carry it about, and style it
Britannicus, and shout to it as to Cæsar.
I say thou shalt be Cæsar, think it o’er.
Dare not refuse me: ’tis not yet too late;
1460To-morrow I will speak with thee again.
Now to thy better thought.[Exit.
Br.O murderess!
And for this last turn must I thank my folly,
That partly trusted her. Now would to heaven,
If live I must, that I might change my lot
With any man soe’er, though he be chosen
And picked for misery. Surely there’s none
In all the empire can show cause to stand
And weigh his woe with mine. Find me the man,
If such there be, that hath an only sister
1470’Spoused to a murderer and adulterer,
Who hates her virtue, since it shames pretext
To cast her off: or, if such man be found,
Hath he for mother one that slew his father,
And threats him with like death? or if all this
Be matched in one, hath he no remedy?
Is his speech treason? Is his silence treason?
Is he quite friendless, helpless?
Forbidden to budge a foot from the dread focus
Of crime and anguish? ’Mongst his lesser wrongs
Hath he this brag, that he hath been robbed, as I,
1481Of the empire of the world? O happy hinds,
Who toil under clear skies, and for complaint
Discuss long hours, low wages, meagre food,
Hard beds and scanty covering: ye who trail
A pike in German swamps, or shield your heads
On Asian sands, I’d welcome all your griefs
So I might taste the common nameless joys
Which ye light-heartedly so lightly prize,
And know not what a text for happiness
Lies in a thoughtless laugh: what long, impassable,
1491Unmeasured gulfs of joy sunder it off
From my heart-stifling woe.
Enter Octavia.
OCTAVIA.
Brother, a request you must grant.
Br.Anything,
Dearest, to thee.
Oct.Sup not to-night with Cæsar.
Br. I must. Yet what’s thy reason? Thou art moved
Strangely beyond the matter.
Oct.Read this paper.
Br. (reads). Britannicus, sup not to-day with Cæsar.
How came you by it?
Oct.’Tis from Fulvia,
The maid that loves Seleucus; whence ’tis his.
Br. Most like; I know the turbaned mountebank
1500Keeps an old kindness for me. Yet nay, nay—
If this should now be found—nay, he’s too shrewd
To put himself in writing.
Oct.He might dare
With Fulvia.
Br.Nay. I cannot think ’tis his.
And were it, what’s his credit? I do not trust
These fellows far. They trade in mystery,
And love to thicken water,—and if there be
A plot to poison me, to-day’s occasion
Offers no easier vantage than to-morrow’s.
My safety lies elsewhere.
Oct.O do not go.
1510
Br. Fear not, Octavia, I am very careful,
And eat but sparingly of any dish,
Nor aught but what goes round. To stay away
Might show suspicion, and could serve no end.
Oct. Brother, be warned, go not to-night;
to-morrow
We may learn more. I beg ...
Br.Nay, urge me not,
Since with this warning I am doubly safe.
Oct. Oh, I dread Nero’s anger; ’tis most certain
That ill will come of it.
Br.Nay, fear him not.
1519Let us go sup. I will use all precaution,
Thou may’st be sure, since for thy sake I do it:
And while thou livest I shall have both reason
And wish to live. Have care, too, for thyself;
SCENE · 5
Supper-room in the Palace. All are reclined at two tables, thus:
| Agrippina, Nero, Poppæa. | A gentm., Octavia, A lady. | ||
| Tigellinus, | A gentm. | Britannicus, | Paris. |
| A lady, | Domitia. | ||
| Petronius, | Lucan. | ||
| Waiters, tasters, etc. Some are talking. | |||
NERO.
I will propose a question to the table:
Which of the arts is greatest? Lucan, these sausages
Are something new: try them.
POPPÆA.
You question, Cæsar,
Which of the arts is greatest? I would answer
The one which Cæsar honours.
TIGELLINUS.
But if Cæsar
Should honour more than one?
Ner.If any man
Could prove one art beyond contention first,
I would reward him excellently. With me
To know the best and follow it are one:
Success being easy in all, my difficulty
Lies in distraction: show me then the best,
I’ll perfect that.
Pop.What! Cæsar give up singing?
Ner. For better things.
Tig.Which be the arts?
Petr. (to servants).Here, vermin,
This wine’s half-way to vinegar.
Ner.Who will name
1540The arts? There’s sculpture, painting, poetry,
Singing ..
PARIS.
And acting.
Ner.Well, what more?
Tig.Horse-racing.
Pop. (across). Ruling I think’s an art.
AGRIPPINA (across).
And making love.
Ner. ’Tis of the fine arts we would speak.
(To servants) Ho! fellows,
Pour out the wine! Ah, here’s a lovely mullet.
Has this been tasted?
TASTER.
Ay, Cæsar. ’Tis stuffed with truffles.
Ner. A mullet stuffed with truffles. Now, Poppæa,
Will not this please?
Pop.I thank you.—(aside) Prithee, bid
Lucan to speak for poetry.
BRITANNICUS (to servant).
Nay, the mullet.
Ner. Lucan, what say you for your art?
LUCAN.
I claim
1550The first place for it, and I say ’tis proved
Nobler than any plastic art in this;
It needs not tools nor gross material,
And hath twin doors to the mind, both eye and ear.
Nay, even of drama Aristotle held,
Though a good play must act well, that ’tis perfect
Without the stage: which shows that poetry
Stains not her excellence by being kind
To those encumbrances, which, in my judgment,
Are pushed to fetter fancy.—Then hath our art
1560Such strong and universal mastery
O’er heart and mind, that here ’tis only music
Competes, and she is second far in scope,
Directness, and distinction.
Ner.You think that?
Luc. Ay, Cæsar.
Ner.Do you! you who have ever been
More gracious to my voice than to my pen!
Am I a better singer then than poet,
Think you?
Luc.Nay, Cæsar; but ....
Ner.Ha! then you are envious.
You would not have me write because, forsooth,
You write yourself. Now, by the god, I swear
1570Thou shalt not publish nor recite a verse
Within my empire till I give thee leave.
One man to keep the muses to himself!
Monstrous!
Pop.And serve him right.
Luc. (aside). Monstrous indeed!
Ner. (to servants). Heat me some wine.
Come, lords, ye drink not. Eh! what have we here?
Servant. Cherubim, Cæsar.
Ner.What is Cherubim?
Petr. The gods of the Jews.
Ner.Hoo! let us eat their gods.
They are much like pheasants.
Petr.Cæsar, there’s one art
Has not been mentioned; though I think at table
1581It should not be passed o’er.
Ner.What art is that?
Petr. I shall contend it is the first of all.
Ner. Name it.
Petr.It hath no name. It scarce exists.
I think the goddess never walked the earth.
Par. Ranks she with poetry?
Petr.I avouch above.
Par. Cæsar, if this be proved, thou must rescind
Thy poet’s sentence.
Ner.Let him prove it first.
Petr. I see in other arts some wit or fancy
Extrinsical to nature. I can find
1590No ground of need in any, save maybe
In architecture,—which ranks not so well
As to be mentioned by you.—Now, if I
Show you an art whose matter every day
Is life’s necessity, which gives more scope
To skill than any other, which delights
Among the senses one which the other arts
Wholly neglect, would you not say this art
Hath the first claim? See, I could live without
The joys of harmony, colour, or form,
1600But without this it were impossible
To outlast the week.
Par.Oh! Cookery.
Several.Cookery, cookery!
Petr. There’s the mistake I gird at. None of you
But thinks this art I speak of, which includes
Pleasures of entertainment, ease and elegance,
The mind’s best recreation, the satisfaction
Of the body’s nearest needs, the preservation
Of health, and with all this, the gratifying
Of that one sense, which above all the senses
Is subtle, difficult, discerning, ticklish,
1610And most importunate,—that this great art
Is a cook’s province.
Ner.True, Petronius, true;
There’s room for bettering these things.
Petr.Why, wine—
Just think of wine. A hundred vintages
Lie in my cellar; by my taste I tell
Each one; are eye or ear so delicate?
Par. Here’s half a case already.
Petr.Then again,
Look on this side. You bid your friends to supper:
That is a promise; and hath all your life
1619An hour more suitable for skilful kindness?
They come perturbed, fatigued, hungry and thirsty;
Nature exhausts them for you, drains them empty
To take all kinds of pleasure; their grated nerves
Ask music, their wearied limbs soft cushioned couches,
Their harassed mind wise cheerful conversation,
Their body’s appetites fawn at the word
Of food and wine: and yet we see these things,
Which should be studied, ordered, suited, measured,
All jumbled in confusion, till a feast,
Instead of relaxation and renewal,
1630Becomes, I say, for body and for mind
The worst discomfort and the stiffest trial
That life can show.
Par.Bravo! bravo!
Ner.For one,
I am converted. Thou shalt be henceforth
Arbiter of my table.
Br. (to servt.) ’Tis boiling hot;
Taste it.
Ner. (to Petron.) Accept you the office?
Petr.This would make me
A Cæsar above Cæsar.
Ner.In the province
Of imperial æsthetics.
Servt. to Brit.Pardon, your highness,
I will add water to it: ’tis yet unmixed.
[They pour in the poison.
Petr. ’Twill be a tyranny. For look, I hold
1640Man’s stomach is not to be trifled with.
Not only should your table give delight
Even to the ravishment of every palate,
But since the end and final cause of food
Is not to breed diseases in the flesh,
Nor heat the spirits more than they can bear,
But rather to build up and comfort health,
I’d order first that there be served at table
Nothing but what is wholesome.
Br. (after drinking nubile Petr. speaks). Ah!
[Falls back.
Oct. The wine, the wine!
Br.Ah![Dies.
Oct. He is dead. O dead! O dead!1650
Lucan, Petronius and Paris go to Britannicus.
Domitia follows.—All rising.
Agr. What is this?
Ner.He hath a fit.
Petr.He doth not breathe.
Oct. (has come round to front). Alas, alas! my brother; he is dead.
Ner. Nay, sit you down; look not aghast, I say.
He hath the falling sickness, and will oft
Faint on a sudden, as ye see. He lies
An hour as dead, and then awakes again
With nought amiss. Best take him out in quiet.
(To servants.) Carry him from the room.
Luc.Lift you his feet, Petronius.
We two will take him.
Ner.Let him be, I say.1660
His servants will attend him. Return to table:
We cannot spare you.
Par. (to Oct.)Honoured lady, be hopeful:
For hath your noble brother e’er been taken
Like this, he may recover.
Oct. (to Par.)Never—
Never! O never! he is dead! I knew it![Going.
Ner. (to Oct.) Heh, sit you down. What could you do, I pray?
He will come round.
Oct.Oh! I will follow him.
[Exit with servants who are carrying Brit.
Petr. (to Par.) How happened it?
Par. (to Petr.)He drank a draught of wine
Fresh mixed, and then fell back just as you saw.
What think you?
Petr. (to Par.) Think you ’twas aught?1670
Par. (to Luc.)What think you?
Luc. Impossible.
Ner. Come, sit you down, aunt: come, Petronius,
Lucan, be seated. Let not the horrid sight
Unwhet your appetites.
Petr. (to Luc.)That was no fit.[To Par.
He is dead. What if ’twere poison? Where’s the drink?
Par. ’Twas hurried out.
Luc.O God!
Ner. (to servts.) Serve out the wine.
We all must need a bumper; ’tis most natural.
I have known the mere revulsion to provoke
1680In a strong man a seizure similar
To that which frighted him.
Par. (aside). ’Twould not amaze me,
Had he such drink to cheer him.[All refuse drink.
Pop. (to Nero).I will not drink.
Ner. From my cup.
Pop.Well, from thine.[Drinks.
Luc. (aside).He is self-betrayed.
Ner. Where were we?
Petr.At the point where Cæsar made me
Arbiter of his table. I shall ask
To inaugurate my office.
Ner.Do so, Petronius.
Petr. Then know you are all dismissed. Let all go home,
And for the prince’s safety offer up[All rise.
What vows ye may unto the gods. Myself,
I set the example, and go first. Come, Lucan.[Going.
Ner. Eh! eh! yet thus ’tis best. Good night, Petronius,1691
Thou hast spoken well; may the gods hear thy prayers.
I wish you all good night.
In disorder of going curtain falls.