SENECA. A dimness and no more.
BURRUS. And silence.
NERO. Hush!
How wonderful this waiting and this pause.
Could one convey this in the theatre?
This deep suspense, this breathlessness? Perhaps.
The air weighs on the brain——what sound was that?
TIGELLINUS. Nothing, sir.
NERO. In this thrill a leaf would thunder.
[A pause.
I never noted so exactly how
The shadow of that cypress falls aslant
Upon the dark bank yonder.
BURRUS. Would it were over!
NERO. Feel you no shuddering pleasure in this pause?
But me this fraught expectancy allures;
The tingling stillness, for each moment now
The crash, a cry, may come, but it comes not.
TIGELLINUS. Anicetus, have you bungled?