BURRUS. Tigellinus!
TIGELLINUS. I
Come from the theatre. For three hours have sat
In the first bench, and feared to wink or cough.
The Emperor sang, and had for audience
The flower of Rome. In torment did we sit,
Nobles and consuls, captains, senators,
Bursting to laugh and aching but to smile.
Higher and higher rose the Emperor's voice,
But no man ventured to relax his lips.
And all around were those who peered or crept,
Inspecting each man's face, noting his look.
To sigh was treason and to laugh was death,
And yet none dared be absent: how were you
Excused?
BURRUS. I pleaded the old wound.
SENECA. And I
Reception of the Parthian and the Briton.
TIGELLINUS. I
Say not so much against his moody freaks,
But to be called from bed to hear him sing—
O, I must have my sleep at night—well, well—
To graver things. Still the conspiracy
Of Agrippina swells: she aims to make
Her son a toy, a puppet, while she pulls
Unseen the secret strings of policy.
SENECA. Is't not enough to bear upon her back
Stripped continents? To clasp about her throat
A civilisation in a sapphire, or
That kingdoms gleam and glow upon her brow.
Now doth she overstar us like the night
In splendour. Now she rises on our eyes
Dawning in gold; or like the blaze of noon
Taketh our breath on a sudden; or she glides
Silent, from head to foot a glimmering pearl.
But this is woman's business: 'tis not so
To listen screened to the ambassadors,
To ride abroad with Nero charioted,
Or wear her head upon the public coins.
TIGELLINUS. And she intends this very day to hear
The Briton, seated by the Emperor's side.
Otho has joined her too.
SENECA. But from what cause?
TIGELLINUS. He is married.
BURRUS. Ah, Poppaea!