TIGELLINUS. Ah, be not laughed at, sir, be it not said
Nero is tied unto his mother's robe.
Be brilliant, cruel, lustful, what you will,
But not a naughty child, rated and slapped.
Poppaea too, she will not suffer you
With her to indulge your fancy.

SENECA. Caesar, rise!

BURRUS. Rise—rise, and reign!

TIGELLINUS. And be no more a doll
That dances while she pulls the string behind.
Then young Britannicus!

NERO. O nothing!

TIGELLINUS. Yet
He is winning on the people: he hath charm,
His voice is sweet.

[NERO starts.

Caesar, I judge it not,
But speak the common drift; and his recital,
So I am told, has for accompaniment
Gesture most eloquent.

[NERO is more and more roused.

His poems, too!