DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
| NERO. | ||
| BRITANNICUS | stepson to Agrippina. | |
| BURRUS | praetorian prefect. | |
| SENECA | tutor to Nero. | |
| LUCAN, the poet, nephew to Seneca | }friends of Nero. | |
| OTHO | }gentlemen of Rome | |
| PETRONIUS | ||
| PALLAS | master of the imperial household. | |
| TIGELLINUS | successor to Pallas. | |
| THRASEA, a Stoic | }honest senators. | |
| PRISCUS | ||
| ANICETUS | an admiral. | |
| PARIS | a player, favourite of Nero. | |
| SELEUCUS | an astrologer. | |
| Messengers, Servants, &c. | ||
| AGRIPPINA AUGUSTA | mother to Nero. | |
| OCTAVIA | wife to Nero, sister to Britannicus. | |
| POPPÆA | wife to Otho, loved of Nero. | |
| DOMITIA | sister-in-law to Agrippina. | |
| FULVIA | attendant on Agrippina. | |
| Maids, &c. | ||
Scene. The first four acts are laid in ROME; the fifth is at BAIÆ.
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| NERO |
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| ACT · I | ||
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SCENE · 1
On the Palatine. THRASEA & PRISCUS.
THRASEA.
IF you ask my advice then, it is silence. You are yet new to the senate, and must learn to give your opinion with least offence.
PRISCUS.
Can you mean this?
Thr. Yes—it is my serious advice.
Pr. Now, unless it were the silence of Brutus ...
Thr. Hush, hush! Were this repeated, there is no greater peril than that word of yours.
Pr. But to you I know I may speak freely.
10Thr. What know you of me?
Pr. I know Thrasea is brave, and resents his country’s wrongs; that he has insight to see that liberty was never more outraged than now.
Thr. Believe me, sir, this tale of things being at their worst is common to all times. Your judgment has gone astray upon a contempt for Cæsar’s follies, or a hatred of his mother’s crimes. Measure Nero but by what he has already done, and you may even find cause for congratulation.
Pr. We shall be ruled like the Britons by a Queen.
Thr. O nay. It is not possible that Nero will suffer Agrippina’s ambition to take such a place. ’Tis already a quarrel between them, and Seneca declares for him.
Pr. Then, I ask you, may there not be found in this quarrel an opportunity to bring in Britannicus? Now he is of age, he can no longer be held disqualified.
28Thr. There is no question of qualification or of claim.
Pr. How so? The late emperor Claudius in his will mentioned Britannicus for his successor, as being his own son ....
Thr. May be. But then, sir, his empress made away with both him and his will; and the Roman people chose for Cæsar the son of the murderess, rather than the heir of the idiot they were glad to be rid of. Since which day Nero is as truly our Cæsar as Britannicus could ever have been. Those who swore to Nero will remain by him; as ’tis well they should, else were no stability.
39Pr. Shall we then do nothing?
Thr. You take things by the wrong handle. Let us make the best of what we have. Our Cæsar is the pupil of a philosopher and guided in everything by his master’s counsels.
Pr. You are very tolerant and hopeful.
Thr. Try and be so too, and I shall wish to see more of you. If you will visit my house, you will indeed be most welcome and may find congenial company. Only no more of Brutus.
Pr. Thank you for your kindness, if it is an earnest of your confidence—On another occasion ... 50
Thr. O we will find many. (Shouts heard.) What is that? (More shouts.) It must be Cæsar: he is coming this way. Be not seen talking with me: go you that way: I will remain. Farewell.
Pr. Farewell, Thrasea.[Exit.
Thr. Young blood, hot blood and true:
Yet is his energetic patriotism
Useless,—nay, like a weapon out of date,
Looks not to be a warlike weapon more.
I think in me it had been truer wisdom,
Knowing the forces of this drowning time,
To have said outright—Good, honest Priscus,
Be good no longer, let thine honesty
Rot, it can stead thee nothing; there’s no man
Will be the better for it; there’s no field
Where thou canst exercise it, not a place
In all the world where in secure possession
Thou mayst retire with it: cast it away;
For ’tis a burden far beyond thy freight.
If thou wilt swim at all, swim with the times,
An empty bottom on a shallow tide:
Be that thy seamanship—No; I am bold to say
Our virtue hath the topmost vaunt of honour;
Seeing we are true to it in spite of shame,
When its incompetence before the world
Gives it the lie; nor can the fawning curs,
That bask in Cæsar’s sunshine, when they mock us,
Dream that we wish them other than they are.
I give them joy. See here is folly’s king,
The hare-brained boy to whom injurious fortune
Has given the throne and grandeur of the world:
Now if I bow my head ’tis in thy game,
Ridiculous fate; and my soul laughs at thee.
[Retires aside.
Enter Nero, Otho, Lucan, Tigellinus, and Paris.
NERO.
This is the place: enlarge it on this side
To take in all the hill. That house of Rufus
That blocks the way must down, and all the piles
On the south slope. Now say, is’t fine or no?
LUCAN.
Magnificent.
OTHO.
It shows the mind of Cæsar.
TIGELLINUS.
Splendid.
Ner.At least the best: we still regret
A better than the best; and I can see
These possibilities. Think if the hill
Were raised some hundred feet, till it o’ertopped
The Capitol—eh! lords. And so ’twere best;
But still ’twill pass for good.
Luc. ’Twill be a palace
For site and size the first in all the world.
Ner. To kill the Jews’ brag of Jerusalem?
Oth. I think it.
Ner.You, my friends, who know my scheme,
May mete and judge my general scope in this,
A sample of my temper coined and uttered
For the world’s model, that all men’s endeavours
May rise with mine to have all things at best,
Not only for myself but for the world;
Riches and joy and heart’s content for all.
It may be done, and who should do it but I?
See now my years at best, my youth and strength
With form and gifts agreeing, and my power,....
Know’st thou my power?—Oh! Otho, I tell thee
The Cæsars which have been have never known
What ’tis to be full Cæsar. Dost thou think?
There’s nothing good on earth but may be won
With power and money; and I have them both;
Ay, and the will.
Oth.Much may be done, no doubt.
Ner. Much! Why there’s nothing, man, may not be
done.
The curse of life is of our own devising,
Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness.
He wounds his happiness against a cage
Of his own make, and only waits the word
For one to set his door open,—and look,
Having his liberty is he not glad
As heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance
Sends him a liberator, ay, and one
Not to cajole or preach, but, will or nill,
Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage,
With all who would hang back and skulk therein,
How shall he not be happy?
Luc.This shall be
The world’s last crown, by man with utmost power
Endowed to drive him to the good he shuns.
Ner. Ay. Be all human hopes summed up in mine
And reach their goal. I say there shall be peace,
There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content:
The god on earth shall work the good whereof
The folly of man hath baulked the gods in heaven:
And good that men desire shall be as common
As ills they now repine at. When I say
There shall be justice, see, even at my word
Injustice is no more.
PARIS.
The house of Rufus,
Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace.
Ner. Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar,
And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire
Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that,
Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes.
Is not this more than justice?
Par.Ay, ’tis power.
Ner. Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit,
To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last night
Sang I divinely? Wert thou envious
When I put on the lion’s skin, and did
The choice of Hercules?
I wished that I had asses ears to hear;
Mine are not long enough.
Ner.Plague on thy jesting.
See static virtue stalks with folded arm
To set thee down.[Thrasea comes forward.
Thr.Hail, Cæsar!
Ner.Thy opinion,
Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou think
If I extend my palace to take in
The hill whereon we stand?
Thr.The plan no doubt
Is worthy of the site, and for the site,
Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome.
Ner.Well said.
Stay. I would ask my fellow senator
Wherefore he left the house three days ago
Without his voice or vote.
159
Thr.I judged the time
Unmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senate
Was of one mind: a vote was of no count.
Ner. Thou show’dst a sense against us in not voting.
Thr. That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.
Ner. Well, I would have thee speak. We are not full
Without thy voice: nay more, such conduct makes
The senate but a name; for times have been
When silence was well justified by fear.
Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill
On those that grudge their approbation.
Thr. Cæsar commands my service and my praise;
I shall not lack.
Ner.We look for much from thee.
Thr. Long live your majesty.[Exit.
Ner.There’s something good
In that man, Otho; spite of his dry mien
And Stoic fashion.
Oth.Nay, I like him not.
He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old Seneca
Is stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him,
You find he yields, shows softness here and there.
This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule.
Ner. Do you despise divine philosophy?
180
Oth. Well, as I take it, all philosophy
Is questionable guessing, but the sense
A man grows up with bears the stamp of nature.
Ner. How mean you that?
Oth.At best this fine-spun system
Is but a part of man’s experience
Drawn out to contradiction of the rest.
’Tis a fool’s wisdom.
Luc.’Tis a form of pleasure.
Oth. True. Though there be no theory of life
That’s worth a button, yet the search for one
Seems to content some men better than life.
Ner. Call him not fool, Otho!
Oth.Unless I wrong him,
I speak as well of him as he of me.
Or if he say nothing, his guarded manner
Covers, be sure, a more unkind contempt.
Par. (apeing Thr.). That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.
Tig. Ha! ha! Excellent!
Ner.Paris would make a senator.
Oth. Well, give me life.
Ner.Ay, that is wisdom. Live.
Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-night
I have time well disposed: we sup with Actè;
She will inaugurate the new pavilion,
And after, there are masks and clubs provided.
Thou’lt join us, eh!
Oth.With all my heart.
Ner. (to Tig. and Luc.).And you.
And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes,
And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now.
[Exit Paris.
Good news for them I think; pleasure in store.
We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho,
You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a woman
Oth.I say no.
Ner. I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised,
Who knew no better; I mean the perfect art
Which makes each moment feverous.
Oth.I know none.
Ner. ’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envy
Grudged me the word.
Oth.Nay, Cæsar.
Ner.O, I know
Thou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.
Oth. Say, my good fortune, Cæsar.
Ner.Now if thy boast
Be true as it is rare, thy lady’s presence
Would add much spirit to our gaieties.
I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-night
Thou bring her.
Oth.In this thing, for friendship’s sake,
Hold me excused.
Ner.Nay, no constraint; thy wish
Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have,
And least to thee, my pleasures a command;
But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.
SCENE · 2
A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS.
BRITANNICUS.
Why art thou weeping, dearest? Has Nero been
Again unkind?
OCTAVIA.
Most unkind.
Br.Weep not so.
Octavia, weep not so.
Count but my tears as thine, so shall my pity
Comfort thy wrongs. Nay, wert thou not my sister,
How must I feel to see so base a rival
Honoured before thyself in Cæsar’s palace!
Why even his mother could not grant him that
Unmoved, but wept with rage: while he himself,
I saw, was touched with shame.
Oct.Hush, hush! nay, ’tis not that;
I mind not that: at least they tell me now
I must not mind; and since he never loved me
It matters little. ’Tis not that at all.
Br. Then something fresh; what more?
What hast thou said or done, Britannicus,
That so could anger him?
Br.Ah! is’t with me then
He is angry? Dost thou weep for me?
Oct.For both.
Br. Now tell me all, sister.
240
Oct.O, ’tis the worst.
Here as I sat this morning strode he in,
More fired with rage than ever I have seen him,
More like his wicked mother, when her fury
Has made me tremble. All he said I heard not,
But this, that I, his wife, had turned against him
To plot with thee, and led thee on to boast
That being of age thou wert the rightful heir,
And more: what is his meaning?
Br.’Tis his spite
To seek my fault in thee.
Oct.Nay, that were nothing.
Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome.
He dare not face the truth. He cannot brook
Thy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt go
And leave me in my prison.
Br.’Twas last night
I vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought
’Twould be as soon forgotten.
Br. It was the feast of Saturn,—and as it chanced
(Or rather, I should say, ’twas so arranged
To please him, at his own desire) he drew
The lot of king of the feast, and when the company
Were drunk he used his silly privilege
To have me be their fool.
Oct.Didst thou rebuke him?
Br. It happened thus. When all the guests in turn
Had answered to their forfeit, as his humour
Prescribed to each, he turned on me, and bade me
Show them a tragic scene, foreseeing how
The incongruence of time and place, the audience
Of drunken sots would turn my best to worst,
And smother passion in a sea of laughter.
But, for the wine I had been constrained to taste
Had mounted to my head, I felt at heart
A force to wither up their sottish jeers,
And ere I knew my purpose I was sitting
Upright upon the couch, and with full passion
Singing the old Greek song thou saidst so well
Suited our fortunes.
Oct.O, would I had been there!
They could not laugh at thee.
Br.They did not laugh.
The sadness and the sweetness of the music,
After their low hoarse songs, startled to sense
Their sodden, maudlin brains: they listened all
To the end, and then with daunted appetite
Sat in constraint and silence.
Oct.Oh! well done!
And what said Nero?
Br.He but smiled until
The tale tells how the poor child disinherited
Was put to death by his usurping brother;
Then his eye sank; and last, when Paris rose
At the end and praised my acting, he grew wild,
And said the feast was o’er, and bade us go.
Oct. Alas! ’twas done too well.
Br.I mind it not:
I wear no mask: and manifold occasion
Will oft surprise our closest guard, provoking
Unbidden motions that betray the heart:
’Twere vain to seek to quell them: they are like our shadows,
Which, if the sun shine forth, appear and show
Our form and figure. Such haps cannot be helped.
Enter Agrippina and attendants.
ATTENDANT.
The Augusta, your royal mother.
AGRIPPINA.
Good day, my son.
Br.Good morrow, mother.
Agr. Octavia still here! Child, why, know you not
’Tis long past noon, and Dionysius
Waits in the library? Begone, begone!
What! crying? Here’s a picture to recover
A husband’s favour!—Fulvia, attend my daughter
Into my tiring-room, and treat her eyes
To hide these scalded rings: and then, Octavia,
Go to the library, talk thy full hour;
Thy Greek is shameful. The rest go.
[Exeunt Octavia and attendants.
My son,
I’d speak with thee.
Br. My mother’s pleasure?
Agr.Thou art my pleasure, child.
Fear me no more. I can be kinder to thee
Than ever I have been to my own true son.
Br. I thank your majesty.
Agr.Nay, now ’tis spoilt.
Best call me mother. Thou hast need of me.
I have heard all; what happed last night at supper.
Thou hast offended Cæsar.
Br.He does wrong
To use the freedom of the feast to insult me,
And then resent my freedom in repelling
His right-aimed insult.
Agr.True; the liberty
Should cover it: but in thy veins there runs
That which outcries thy speech; which, wert thou dumb,
Would speak thee guilty, and being tongued proclaims
Thy needful sentence. ’Twas done bitterly.
I know thy song. Dost thou believe, Britannicus,
That I could give the tale another ending?—
—Suppose, I say, I read it in some book
Writ differently: how that the proud usurper,
Owing all to his mother—dost thou follow me?—
How, when he came to power, instead of sharing
With her who had toiled for him, and in her love
Had parted from all praise, looking to reap
In him the fuller recompense of glory,
How he, when time came he should make return,
Denied her even the common duty owed
By son to mother, set her will aside,
Laughed at her, added to her shames, reproached her,
Mocked her with presents taken openly
Out of her treasures,—as to say outright,
All now is mine, thou hast no claim at all;
See what I choose to give, thank me for these—
Held her as nothing, hated her, brought in
His strumpet to her chamber,—that was the sum—
And she then, when she saw her love derided,
I say, repented, came to the boy she had wronged....
Br. I know, I know.
Agr.Then, if thou knowest, say;
What said he, when she told him she would turn
Her love on him, would set him in the place
Whence she had thrust him out? What said he?
Br.Nothing.
Agr. Nothing!
Br.Nay, I remember he said thus:
Wronged have I been by all, and none can right me;
All hath been false to me save sorrow only;
Justice and truth forsworn: There is no word
That I dare speak; yet if thou stoop to insult me
My tongue will show my wrongs are not forgotten.
Agr. My dearest boy, believe me.
Br.The last time
Thou call’dst me thus ’twas when my father died.
I thought then ’twas in kindness, afterwards
I found the meaning.
Agr.Yea, I confess I wronged thee;
That is my meaning now: had I not wronged thee,
My speech would have no sense at all: ’tis this
I come to urge: in this thou must believe me.
Canst thou not see, had I no pity in me,
No true remorseful pangs, yet still my wrongs
Would move me thus? Though thou trust not my love,
Read in these tears of anger and despair
The depth of my set purpose, my revenge.
Br. I partly do believe thee.
Agr.Believe me wholly,
And my revenge is thine.
Br.Nay, think not so.
There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it.
What are my private wrongs to Rome? If Cæsar
Stablish the empire, where’s the citizen
Will take exception that he hath wronged his brother?
Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rights
To theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar.
Agr. O could’st thou see this offer as thy last
And only safety thou would’st not refuse me.
Br. I rather hope to be forgiven the thing
I never thought, than win by doing it.
Agr. Thou wilt not join with me?
Br.There’s nought to join,
Save to thy will to right me I might join
A hope of justice, to vain will vain hope.
Agr. Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot long
Be Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar,
She might be matched with any excellence.
Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word.
Br. Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt true
There is a way. This matter’s full presentment
Hath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thought
And held no purpose in it; there’s one way:
Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speak
With Burrus, he is plain and honourable,
And if he think there’s gain in the exchange,
And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name,
The sense of right, the promise of a largess,
Will win them to a man. The senate follows:
In a day, an hour, without a drop of blood
My wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus?
Agr. I dare not.
Br.Then do nothing. Or if thou canst,
Assure thy son that from my helpless state
And suffering spirit he has nought to fear.
Agr. Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult,
I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke,
But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much.[Exit.
401
Br. Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder
Falls on itself: that in the guilty breast
The implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tusk
The bleeding strings of nature: and in this woman
Of no remorse hath fated vengeance stirred
Her heart to hate her son. O, I did wrong
Yielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me,
That he should rule my fate is my best safety.
For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.—
These days have brought much change and food for
fear.
