University of Virginia Library

SCENE III

Nero'r Private Chamber in the villa at Baiae, looking directly upon the bay. Left, doors leading into the apartments. The water laps close up to the marble quay or terrace on which the action takes place. Right are seen prows of galleys at their moorings. Beyond is the curving shore of the bay, crowded with villas and temples. The scene is of extreme southern richness and serenity. Time noon
[Nero is pacing restlessly to and fro. Enter a servant.
Nero.
The lady Poppaea! Is she yet arrived?

Servant.
Sir, an hour since.

Nero.
[Impatiently.]
Then why is she not here?
[Exit Servant.
An hour since: yet she lingers while I ache
With passion. She comes not, still she delays.
To fly to her? No, 'twere unworthy of me—
And yet, and yet—Ah! I must go to her.

Enter slaves bearing Poppaea on litter
Poppaea.
[Standing aloof and veiled.]
Caesar, by thee thrice summoned, I am here.
What is your will?

Nero.
To have you at my side.

Poppaea.
Caesar, I am thy subject, and obeyed
Unwillingly.

Nero.
Unwillingly?

Poppaea.
I come
In loyalty: what service can I render?
If none, then suffer me now to depart.
I tremble to be seen with thee alone;
No whisper yet has touched me.

Nero.
So you come,
But out of loyalty.

Poppaea.
As fits thy subject.

Nero.
No, I am thine!

Poppaea.
Caesar, I will not hear,
I must not if I would—that you know well.

Nero.
You come in cold obedience?

Poppaea.
I have said so.
Yet—

Nero.
[Eagerly.]
Well—well—

Poppaea.
Nero—nay, Caesar—my lord.

Nero.
Nero, I'd have you say.

Poppaea.
That slipped from me—
Is't treason? I know nothing of the laws.

Nero.
You come because thrice summoned?

Poppaea.
In my mind
There lurked another reason for my coming.

Nero.
What then?

Poppaea.
A thought that like a captive bird
I have kept warm about my heart so long
I am loth to let it fly forth to the cold.

Nero.
[Approaching her.]
Tell me this thought.

Poppaea.
Then, Caesar, I have long
Brooded upon the music of thy verse.
It doth beset me—and, O pardon me,
If, little fool that I am, I longed to speak
But once alone with him who made it. Now,
What have I said? I will return forthwith.

Nero.
O not thy beauty moves me but thy mind!

Poppaea.
I think I have some little ear for verse.
There is one line—

Nero.
Yes—yes—

Poppaea.
Of burning Troy—
‘O city amorous red, thou flagrant rose’—

Nero.
A regal verse! But the arm extended thus
Toward doomed Ilium. Say on.

Poppaea.
My eyes
Are filled with tears.

Nero.
Remove thy veil and weep.

Poppaea.
[Starting back.]
For no man—save my husband—O my lord!
He is despatched to Lusitania.

Nero.
Know you not why?

Poppaea.
I know not—cannot guess.

Nero.
That he might stand no more between us two.

Poppaea.
O sir, he is my husband, and my way
Is with him wheresoe'er he go. My duty—

Nero.
But your inclining?

Poppaea.
That I will not say.
But Lusitania is henceforth my home.
Nero, I will speak truth: I'll not deny
There is some strange communion of the soul
'Twixt you and me: but I'll not yield to this,
No, nor shall you compel me, Caesar: I
Will follow Otho even to banishment.
There are more sacred things in my regard
Than mutual pleasure from melodious verse.

Nero.
Nothing, when soul meets soul without alloy.

Poppaea.
I fear you do forget I am a woman.
Dear to us before all are household cares.

Nero.
O to the average, not to thee.

Poppaea.
Farewell!

Nero.
You shall not go thus.

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.

Poppaea.
No?
Ah, but her child, and born but to obey.
And yet though wiser, mightier, than myself,
You shall not find in her a listener
So still, so answerable to your mood.
And, I will say it, you'll not find in her
One who has dived so deep into your soul,
Who sees—I cannot flatter—sees that greatness
Which she too long keeps under: were I you
I would be Caesar, spite of twenty mothers,
And seem the mighty poet that I am.
I'll go.

Nero.
You madden me—

Poppaea.
Farewell again.

Nero.
Poppaea, go not, go not. All the east
Burns in me, and the desert fires my blood.
I parch, I pine for you. My body is sand
That thirsts. I die, I perish of this thirst,
To slake it at your lips! You madden me.
[He seizes her cloak and she stands revealed.
Goddess! What shall I give thee great enough?
I'll give thee Rome—I'll give thee this great world,
And all the builded empire as a toy.
The Mediterranean shall thy mirror be,
Thy jewels all sparkling stars of heaven.
The orb of the earth—throw it on thy lap
But for a kiss—one kiss!

Poppaea.
But Agrippina?

Nero.
Agrippina?

Poppaea.
No—I'll not think of it!
I'll have no violence for my sake committed.
If by some chance unlooked for she should die,
If in some far, far time she should succumb
To creeping age—then—

Nero.
Then?

Enter Messenger hurriedly
Messenger.
Sir, urgent business—
The State demands you.

Nero.
[Furiously.]
Pah!—the State!

Poppaea.
O Nero!
Remember first the State—me afterward!

Nero.
Empress!

[He leads her out.
[He returns and stands as in a dream while the Councillors enter.
Burrus.
How long? How long, sir? Agrippina
Is drawing to her net the dregs of Rome,
Makes mutinous the rabble and the scum.

[Nero makes weary gesture.
Seneca.
And, sir, she has not scrupled to enroll
The ragged, shrieking Christians, who wash not,
The refuse of the empire, all that flows
To this main sewer of Rome she counts upon.

Tigellinus.
[Stealing forward.]
And, sir, if these things move you not—a letter.

Nero.
[Reading.]

‘I, Agrippina, daughter
Of Germanicus, of Claudius widow, of Nero
mother, hereby do declare that though I have
sat tame under private injuries, I will not forgo
my public privileges, nor consent to be banished
from high festival or ceremony. I purpose
then to be present at Baiae at Minerva's feast,
together with the Emperor, and will hold no
second place. This is my ancient right and
to that right I cleave.

The Augusta.’

Seneca.
This is her ultimate audacity.

Tigellinus.
And this our utmost opportunity.

Nero.
Sirs, seeing that the State demands this life,
Seeing that I must choose 'twixt her and Rome,
I do consent to Agrippina's death.
The State like Nature must be pitiless,
And I must ruthless be as Nature's Lord.
But I'll be no Orestes, I'll not lift
This hand against her: see you then to that!
It is enough to have conceived this deed.
The how, the when, the where, I leave to you.

Tigellinus.
She is delivered now into our hands,
And runs into the toils we had not set.
In Baiae no Praetorians are camped,
No populace inflamèd in her cause;
A solitary woman doth she come.
Caesar, receive her graciously and well.
Smile all distrust away and speak her soft,
While we devise for her a noiseless doom.

Anicetus.
Caesar, a sudden thought hath come to me.
A pleasure pinnace lies in Baiae Bay
Built for thyself: on this let her return
In the deep night after Minerva's feast,
Or supper given in sign of amity.
I will contrive a roof weighted with lead
Over the couch whereon she will recline.
Once in deep water at a signal given
The roof shall fall: and with a leak prepared
The ship shall sink and plunge her in the waves.
In that uncertain water what may chance?
What may not? To the elements this deed
Will be imputed, to a casual gust
Or striking squall upon the moody deep.

Nero.
Wonderful! This gives beauty to an act
Which else were ugly and of me unworthy.
So mighty is she that her proper doom
Could come but by some elemental aid.
Her splendid trouble asketh but the sea
For sepulchre: her spirit limitless
A multitudinous and roaring grave.
Here's nothing sordid, nothing vulgar. I
Consign her to the uproar whence she came.
Be the crime vast enough it seems not crime.
I, as befits me, call on great allies.
I make a compact with the elements.
And here my agents are the very winds,
The waves my servants, and the night my friend.

Burrus.
Suppose the night be clear, with a bright moon,
A calm sea.

Nero.
On the moon I can rely.
Last night I wrote to her a glimmering verse;
She is white with a wan passion for my lips.
The moon will succour me. Depart from me—
Trouble me not with human faces now.

[Exeunt Councillors.
[Meanwhile Poppaea appears behind in a gorgeous dress with white arms extended against the curtains.