POPPAEA. Caesar, chain me here,
But in neglected duty I shall pine.
NERO. [Angrily striding to and fro.] Ah!
POPPAEA. And imagine that he did not live—
That I were free to indulge this panting soul—
Still there are bars between us none can break.
NERO. You mean my wife Octavia?
POPPAEA. Well—and yet
Not she, perhaps.
NERO. Who then? What other bars?
POPPAEA. Your mother Agrippina.
NERO. Still my mother!
POPPAEA. She would not bear it: would command her son
To leave me: a younger woman has no hope
Against her.
NERO. I am not her lackey.