[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.