University of Virginia Library

Scæ. I.

Nero, Poppea, sitting in State.
Nero.
Let not my Crown and self thy wish confine:
Ask what thou wilt; by all the Gods, 'tis thine.
Be studied in't, and Ile applaud thee for't:
Mean while, behold the pleasures of our Court.

[Dance &c.
Enter Britannicus, Mad: and Cyara.
Pop.
O, my dread Lord, for these let me implore.

Nero.
Live, wretches, and this Excellence adore.

Brit.
Stay me not? by the Gods, I'le break your hold.
So sad a story, Orpheus never told,
When his harmonious sighs pierc'd Pluto's gate;
But I ban Heav'n, curse the Great Gods, and Fate.
And yet I will not speak, the theam's too stern;
Here Hell it self might witty horror learn.
Some whirl-wind snatch me headlong through the Ayr,
Wrapt round with clouds invelop'd in despair,
That I from Earth may hide this dismal deed:
Honour is stabb'd, and all the Virtues bleed.
Cyara's faln, Octavia too is gone;
In Death's damp vaults she wanders all alone:
I saw her Soul dive strangely through the ground,
In her own blood that spark of Heav'n was drown'd:
Treason against the Gods he did conspire;
Oh Traytor, worse than he that stole their fire!

Nero.
Who was that Traytor, Prince?

Brit.
I know not, Sir,
Unless that Dog that was her Murderer.

Nero.
Who was that Dog?

Brit.
Why, Cerberus I guess;
No Savage else could hurt such gentleness.
Such meekness would wilde Panthers fury charm,
And hungry Lyons of their rage disarm;
Ev'n o're their prey, it would the conquest get,
Quell their swoln hearts, and cool their bloody heat.

Nero.
Madman begone.

Brit.
This madman is a Prince.

Nero.
I say again, forbear this insolence,
Or thou shalt wish thou wert a Beggar born:
At once, thou mov'st my pity and my scorn.

Brit.
'Twas you that kill'd my Sister.

Nero.
Ha! thou ly'st:
Stand not my rage; for, if thou dost, thou dy'st.

Brit.
Then I will sit, and hear your Thunder roar;
Such humble shrubs it hurts not, but flyes o're.

Nero.
But you shall find, for once, 'twill condescend:
I pity thee, and will thy sorrows end.

Cya.
Hold; by the Gods, I do conjure you, stay:
First through my bosom force your bloody way.
In policy you ought his life to spare;
For, if you let him live, Heav'n will forbear
To punish you, nor will due vengeance take;
The just good Gods will spare you, for his sake.

Brit.
How the Boy prattles! 'tis a pretty Boy!
Cyara's Image! how that damps my Joy!
What mean these two, by such an antick form?
Here's a soft calm, and there a blustring storm.
My Painter so shall draw me day and night:
Here horrid darkness stands; there, gaudy light:
There, cruelty, like the red Sea appears;
Here, melting mercy flows in pitying tears.
Exquisite Emblems! perfect good and evil:
A Heav'n, a Hell, an Angel, and a Devil.

Nero.
If I gaze long, I shall my nature lose:
Mid'st of my full carreer, I stop and muse.
Whence does this poor unworthy pause proceed?
Can I repent my rage? No, he shall bleed.

Cya.
Hold Sir, you cannot strike.

Nero.
How? cannot, Boy?

Cya.
Alas, I ly'd; I know you can destroy:
You can do all things, Sir, both drown and burn;
Nay, the whole World to its first Chaos turn.
You are a God to damn, a King to kill:
You can do all things, if had the will.
But you are kind, and soft; I know you are;
Your eyes are Noble, and delight to spare.
O Heav'n! how Men will lye! nay, now I find
You have a gentle, Great, and GOD-like mind.
The Prince is Mad, and you are pleas'd to see't,
Nay, pardon all,—O let me kiss your feet.
You'll win all hearts, by such kind acts as these;
With my warm tears I'le bath your sacred knees.

Nero.
Shall I be branded with the name of good?
Begone, thou soft invader of my blood;
Mercy and I, no correspondence have;
Pity's a whining tender-hearted slave:
Fury I love, because she's bold and brave.
As I scan things, Virtue's the greatest crime:
Stand off; or I will pass through thee, to to him.

[kills her.]
Pop.
Hold, Cæsar, now I take you at your word;
If you will keep your promise, sheath your sword.

Nero.
'Twere less to give the world, than let him live;
Yet your commands with Joy I do receive.

Brit.
What barbarous hand has done this horrid deed?
Oh, my dear Boy, look up; thou dost not bleed.
Stop, stop, thou bloody Spring; my hair perforce
Shall bind thee, and damn up the Scarlet source:
I will my self thy kind Phisician be;
When I was sick, thou still wert so to me:
At my bed side, strict watch all night he'ld keep,
And, with his Songs, rock my dull cares a sleep.
His cheeks are pale! Roses, look forth again,
And smile for Joy your pretty Rival's slain.
Fate wove thy thred of life too fine to last.
All's lost at once! O Sad! O desp'rate cast!
Thus, in my arms, I'le bear thy beauty's hence;
No guilty hand shall touch thy innocence:
Thus, arm in arm, we in one grave will lye;
Wretched we liv'd, but happy we will dye.

[Exit with Cyara.]
Pop.
What means my trembling heart by this surprize?
Why do I sigh? why do these blushes rise?
Before my soul, a mournful Troop appears;
Hopes stifled in their birth, starts sudden fears
Languishing Joys, and solitary tears!
I love him; 'tis too plain Just Heav'n has sent
On my inconstancy this punishment
I've gone too far to think of a return;
I must enjoy him: O my heart does burn!
My blood boils high, and beats with strange desires:
'Tis just that madness mingle with such fires.

[Exit.
Nero.
Thou hast a Wit; some sudden means contrive.

Pet.
Believe me, Sir, this night he sha'nt survive.

[Exit Nero &c.
Solus.
Contrivance gives a mischief gloss—'tis fine:
I ha't—my kinsman Burrhus fills his wine;
By nature bloody—then the pow'rful charm
Of gold, a present gain, no future harm,
Safe in the Emp'ro'rs favour he shall live:
All this well weigh'd, my black design must thrive.
Nature has not been overkind to me;
Her limber Sons and I cannot agree:
She is my Stepdame; but my comfort is,
To pay her home, this night her darling dyes.

Exit.