 | Nero |  |
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ACT II
Scene.—The same, but signs of excessive luxury and profusion. Rich carpets, gilded pillars, etc. As the scene opens, strange oriental music is heard, with singing. Girls enter slowly and place wreaths round the various statues of Nero, who is depicted now as Apollo singing, now as a charioteer.[Acte is reclining on a couch. The time is broad noon. A faint exotic odour pervades the palace.
1st Maiden.
O Lydia, I am drowsing, and my hands
Can scarcely wreathe the Emperor as Apollo.
2nd Maiden.
Ah, crown this carefully! To-day he sings
In public; as Apollo will return
So crowned, so garbed.
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How is that wreath disposed?
2nd Maiden.
Excellent!
3rd Maiden.
O please tell me how to droop
These scarlet flowers.
2nd Maiden.
About the lyre then, thus.
4th Maiden.
This bust now of the Emperor as a boy?
1st Maiden.
O, covered with white flowers and birds of spring.
5th Maiden.
This charioteer: with green I have dressed that.
3rd Maiden.
Yes, for the Emperor's colour is the green.
1st Maiden.
Now all the busts are wreathed.
2nd Maiden.
What more to do?
1st Maiden.
All is arranged. How heavy are my eyes.
3rd Maiden.
And this low music on my spirit hangs.
4th Maiden.
And the faint odour steals upon my hair.
1st Maiden.
[Moving up and leaning out.]
See, all the city is a solitude.
2nd Maiden.
All Rome is gathered in the theatre
To hear the Emperor sing.
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O, I should sleep
On such a noon, in such a throng.
1st Maiden.
That sleep
Would have no wakening, if your eyes but closed
While Caesar sang.
4th Maiden.
To-night there is a feast.
Have you remembered?
3rd Maiden.
Yes, the dancing girls
From Egypt are arrived.
1st Maiden.
We are to strew
Down from the ceiling flowers upon the guests.
[They reclining in various attitudes about the seats and pillars.
Enter Seneca and Burrus
Burrus.
Ah, Seneca, five years since Nero climbed
The throne: and in this very chamber, now
So changed, this odour—pah! This was the place,
Grim, bare, for military virtues apt.
Seneca.
And he how changed! The boy who dreamed so high
Of mightiest empire and unmeasured peace,
All I had taught him lost; by flattery sapped,
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He sings and struts with dancers and buffoons.
Acte.
[Starting up.]
And you, when have you two dissuaded him?
Or when forbidden? Do you teach him shun
Languor or luxury? You lure him thither.
Seneca.
'Tis true that we have not dissuaded him,
But out of high deliberate policy
Have suffered him to tread the path of folly
Rather than mischief. We have ruled the world
With wisdom these five years while he has played.
Acte.
What of Poppaea, Otho's wife. Have you.
Restrained that madness? Rather have you not
Screened it and fed it?
Seneca.
With the same design;
Better that he should vent his madness thus
In pastime to the State not perilous,
Amuse himself with her rather than Rome.
Acte.
A woman without pity, beautiful.
She makes the earth we tread on false, the heaven
A merest mist, a vapour. Yet her face
Is as the face of a child uplifted, pure;
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Or earthquake rather than that gentle bosom
Rising and falling near thy heart. Her voice
Comes running on the ear as a rivulet;
Yet if you hearken, you shall hear behind
The breaking of a sea whose waves are souls
That break upon a human-crying beach.
Ever she smileth, yet hath never smiled,
And in her lovely laughter is no joy.
Yet hath none fairer strayed into the world,
Or wandered in more witchery through the air,
Since she who drew the dreaming keels of Greece
After her over the Ionian foam.
Burrus.
Better an Emperor fooled than Rome undone!
Acte.
Though all unite to drive him to his doom,
Yet I will not forsake him till he die.
[Exit Acte.
[Meanwhile there is an uneasy movement among the Girls, as at the approach of something sinister. Tigellinus enters, gasping.
Tigellinus.
[Looking after Acte.]
She is a Christian!
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Tigellinus!
Tigellinus.
I
Come from the theatre. For three hours have sat
In the first bench, and feared to wink or cough.
The Emperor sang, and had for audience
The flower of Rome. In torment did we sit,
Nobles and consuls, captains, senators,
Bursting to laugh and aching but to smile.
Higher and higher rose the Emperor's voice,
But no man ventured to relax his lips.
And all around were those who peered or crept,
Inspecting each man's face, noting his look.
To sigh was treason and to laugh was death,
And yet none dared be absent: how were you
Excused?
Burrus.
I pleaded the old wound.
Seneca.
And I
Reception of the Parthian and the Briton.
Tigellinus.
I
Say not so much against his moody freaks,
But to be called from bed to hear him sing—
O, I must have my sleep at night—well, well—
To graver things. Still the conspiracy
Of Agrippina swells: she aims to make
Her son a toy, a puppet, while she pulls
Unseen the secret strings of policy.
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Is't not enough to bear upon her back
Stripped continents? To clasp about her throat
A civilisation in a sapphire, or
That kingdoms gleam and glow upon her brow.
Now doth she overstar us like the night
In splendour. Now she rises on our eyes
Dawning in gold; or like the blaze of noon
Taketh our breath on a sudden; or she glides
Silent, from head to foot a glimmering pearl.
But this is woman's business: 'tis not so
To listen screened to the ambassadors,
To ride abroad with Nero charioted,
Or wear her head upon the public coins.
Tigellinus.
And she intends this very day to hear
The Briton, seated by the Emperor's side.
Otho has joined her too.
Seneca.
But from what cause?
Tigellinus.
He is married.
Burrus.
Ah, Poppaea!
Tigellinus.
Jealousy
Hath driven him into Agrippina's snare.
Fury at Nero's madness for his wife.
Now what if we could raise Poppaea up
As Agrippina's chief antagonist:
We match the mistress 'gainst the mother—pit
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'Gainst old ascendency, the noon of beauty
Against the evening of authority,
The luring whisper 'gainst the pleading voice,
The hand that beckons 'gainst the arm that sways,
And set a woman to defeat a woman.
To Nero I have whispered that she dotes
Upon his poems, on his rhythm hangs,
And cannot sleep for beauty of his verse.
Seneca.
This day must Nero leave his mother's lap,
And stand up as an Emperor, and alone.
[Trumpet.
Burrus.
Hark! Caesar is returning.
[Sounds heard of Nero approaching amid cries of ‘O thou Apollo!’ ‘Orpheus come again!’ Then enter Nero with a group of satellites, Tigellinus, Otho, and professional applauders and spies. His dress is of extreme oriental richness, and profuse in jewels: his hair elaborately curled. He carries an emerald eye-glass, and appears faint from the exertion of singing, from which contest he has just come.
Nero.
This languor is the penalty the gods
Exact from those whom they have gifted high.
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[Coming forward.]
Sir, late arrived from Parthia and Britain—
Nero.
[Starting up.]
A draught!
[Much hurry, zeal, and confusion among courtiers.
This kerchief closer round my throat!
[They tie a kerchief round his throat.
Was I in voice to-day? The prize is won,
But I would be my own competitor
And my own rival. Was I then in voice?
Chorus.
O Memnon struck with morning, nightingale,
Ghost-charming Orpheus, O Apollo—god!
Satellite.
O Caesar, I am one who speaks right out;
If it means death, yet must I speak the truth.
Thy voice was harsh.
Nero.
Was it so, friend?
Satellite.
Harsh and uncertain. Had it been another
Who sang, it would have ravished every ear,
But thee must I remember at thy best,
And what in others we count excellence
In thee we count a lapse, and falling off.
Nero.
There's a good fellow!
Seneca.
Caesar!
Nero.
But a moment!
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[Stealing forward.]
Licinius smiled, sir, at thy final note.
Nero.
Nothing! an artist must bear ridicule.
Were I incensed, I were ridiculous
Myself.
1st Spy.
Shall nothing then be done?
Nero.
Nothing!
2nd Spy.
[Stealing forward.]
Sir, Labienus, in thy second song
Coughed twice.
Another Spy.
[Cringing.]
Nay, Caesar, thrice.
2nd Spy.
What punishment?
Nero.
None! Interruption must I learn to bear.
What patience must we own who would excel!
Anger I never must permit myself,
Or ruffling littleness to this great soul.
3rd Spy.
[Creeping forward.]
Sir, Titus Cassius yawned while thou didst sing.
4th Spy.
Nay, Caesar, worse, he slept, and must he live?
Nero.
[Gently.]
No! he must die: there is no hope in sleep.
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To be a joy to men: and witness you
Who stand around: if ever a small malice
Hath governed me: what critic have I feared?
What rival? Have I used this mighty throne
To baulk opinion or suppress dissent?
Have I not toiled for art, forsworn food, sleep,
And laboured day and night to win the crown,
Lying with weight of lead upon my chest?
Ye gods, there is no rancour in this soul.
[Thunder.
Silence while I am speaking. He must die,
Because he is unmindful of your gifts
And of the golden voice on me bestowed,
To me no credit; and he shall not die
Hopeless, for ere he die I'll sing to him
This night, that he may pass away in music.
How foolish will he peer amid the shades
When Orpheus asks, ‘Hast thou heard Nero sing?’
If he must answer ‘No!’ I would not have him
Arrive ridiculous amid the dead.
Seneca.
Caesar, the Parthian and the British chiefs.
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I cannot, sirs, so suddenly return
Unto life's dreary business, or descend
Out of the real to the unreal: from that
Which is to that which is not. Leave me still.
From art to empire is too swift a drop.
Otho.
Now what to do? Still drags the o'erlong day.
We have driven, we have eaten, we have drunk.
But all the brilliance is a burden still.
Anicetus.
No cloud upon the noon of this despair.
O for some edge, some thrill unknown!
Lucan.
Remorse?
[Nero shakes his head.
Seneca.
Jealousy then?
Nero.
No, no—we have outlived
All passions: terror now alone is left us.
I have within me great capacities
For terror: fear, the last, the greatest passion!
Otho.
Can one rely on death for something new?
Some other life perhaps.
Seneca.
The gods forbid!
The Power that sent us here would lead us there.
One sample is enough.
Lucan.
Death's a dull business,
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‘When I am dead, let fire devour the world.’
[Nero starts at these words and comes among them.
Nero.
Nay, while I live! The sight! A burning world!
And to be dead and miss it! There's an end
Of all satiety: such fire imagine!
Born in some obscure alley of the poor,
Then leaping to embrace a splendid street,
Palaces, temples, morsels that but whet
Her appetite: the eating of huge forests:
Then with redoubled fury rushing high,
Smacking her lips over a continent,
And licking old civilisations up!
Then in tremendous battle fire and sea
Joined: and the ending of the mighty sea:
Then heaven in conflagration, stars like cinders
Falling in tempest: then the reeling poles
Crash: and the smouldering firmament subsides,
And last, this universe a single flame!
[Otho, seeing the steward and musician, who have entered, speaks.
Otho.
Nothing is left us but to eat and drink.
[Takes bill of fare which the steward passes to him.
Nero.
The feast!
[Takes bill of fare from Otho.
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To please the palate only is not art,
But we should minister to the eye and the ear
With colour and with music. Introduce
The embattled oysters with a melody
Of waves that wash a reef—whence do they come?
Steward.
From Britain, sir.
Nero.
Perhaps an angrier chord
Of island surf might be permitted then.
From Britain? Now I see thy uses, Britain.
Britain is justified: she gives us oysters,
And therefore Claudius invaded her.
Sausages upon silver gridirons?
Steward.
Yes.
Nero.
Dormice with poppies and milk honey? There
A slumberous music, heavy lingering chords.
Ah! slices of pomegranate underneath.
Snow—purest snow of course.
Steward.
'Twas not forgot.
Nero.
Then glorying peacocks: here a sounding march,
Something triumphal—even a trifle loud.
And, ah! the mullets! You remembered them?
Steward.
O Caesar, yes.
Nero.
Let these be introduced
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Slow-dying mullets within crystal bowls,
Dying from colour unto colour: now
Vermilion death-pangs fading into blue—
A scarlet agony in azure ending.
There we have colour! And at last the tongues
Of nightingales—the tongues of nightingales?
O, silence with the tongues of nightingales.
[He dismisses Steward.]
Tigellinus.
Sir, grant us three a moment's audience.
[Nero dismisses friends and satellites with gesture.
Seneca.
Your mother, sir, this very day intends
To hear the British chiefs in audience,
Sitting beside you. Know then that the world
Will not endure to have a woman's rule.
Burrus.
No, nor the army.
Tigellinus.
And thy mother laughs
In public at thy verse.
Nero.
She has no ear.
I pity her—remember what she loses.
Tigellinus.
Ah, be not laughed at, sir, be it not said
Nero is tied unto his mother's robe.
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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 poem, too!
Nero.
[Breaking the silence.]
His poems! Why, why, not a line will scan
To the true ear; and what variety,
I ask you all—what flow, or what resource
Is shown? A safe monotony of rhythm!
[He paces to and fro angrily.
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Caesar, I cannot speak to such a theme.
Merely Rome's mouthpiece.
Nero.
And his gesture, why,
'Tis of the Orient, and gesticulation
More happily were called; never a stillness,
Never repose, but one wild whirl of arms.
Tigellinus.
I spoke not of fulfilment, but of promise,
The artist's dazzling future.
Nero.
A sweet voice!
Rome hath no critics! I would write a play
Lived there a single critic fit to judge it.
Whether a dancing-girl kick high enough—
On this they can pronounce: this is their trade.
With verse upon the stage they cannot cope.
Too well they dine, too heavily, and bear
The undigested peacock to the stalls.
Tigellinus.
Should Agrippina on a sudden change
Her front, and clasp hands with Britannicus?
Nero.
Your words awaken in me a new thirst.
Seneca.
Sir, hear the Parthian and the British chiefs.
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[Going to the throne.]
Summon them!
[Exit Seneca.
Think not, though my aim is art,
I cannot toy with empire easily.
The great in me does not preclude the less.
[Re-enter Seneca with Parthian and British Ambassadors, followed by the Court. Seneca brings forward the Parthian Chiefs, when Agrippina enters magnificently dressed and begins to mount steps of throne. Nero with courteous decision brings her down.
Mother, this is man's business, not for thee.
You jar the scheme of colour—mar the effect.
Parthian.
Caesar, we starve: all Parthia parches: all
Our crops sun-smitten bleach upon the plains.
We ask thy aid.
Nero.
And ye shall have my aid
Even to the fullest: further, I will open
The imperial granaries for your people's wants.
Parthian.
Caesar, we thank thee: and if ever thou
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That aid thou shalt find ready at thy side.
[Exit.
British Chief.
Ceasar, the tax that thou hast laid on us
Remit, we pray thee, else we rise in arms
And will abide thy battle.
Nero.
So! You dream
That Caesar being merciful is weak.
I who can succour, I can strike; I'll launch
The legions over sea, and I myself
Will lead them, and the eagles will unloose
Through Britain—I who sit on the world's throne
Will have no threatening from Briton, Gaul,
People or tribe inland or ocean-washed.
The terror of this purple I maintain.
You are dismissed.
[Nero, spreading his hands, dismisses the Court, and comes down to his mother.
Nero.
Now, mother!
Agrippina.
I will speak
With you alone, not compassed by these men.
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To me you owe the height where now you stand.
Who took you, schoolmaster, from exile? Who
Unstewarded you, Burrus? If I have made,
I can unmake—Now leave me with my son.
[To Tigellinus.]
You are self-made. Gods! I'd no hand in that!
[Exeunt Seneca, Burrus, and Tigellinus.]
Nero, have you forgot who set you there?
Nero.
Not while I hear it twenty times a day.
Agrippina.
You should not need that I remind you of it.
Nero.
A kindness harped on grows an injury.
Agrippina.
Are you the babe that lay upon my breast?
Nero.
I was: but I would not lie there for ever.
Agrippina.
Have I not reared you, tended you, and loved you?
Nero.
Yes, but to be your puppet and your toy.
Agrippina.
Boy, never since I first looked on the sun
From man or woman had I insolence,
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Nero.
I speak no insolence—you weary me!
Agrippina.
Gods! you have hit on a new thing to tell me.
[Coming to him.]
Does your heart beat? Are you all ice and pose?
Has nothing gripped you—is there aught to grip
In you, pert shadow? Have you e'er shed tears?
Nero.
For legendary sorrows I can weep:
With those of old time I have suffered much,
And I, for dreams, am capable of tears;
But not for woe too near me—and too loud.
Agrippina.
O wall of stone 'gainst which I beat in vain!
Nero, I will do much to win you back
For your own sake: and though it hurts me sore,
Your passion for Poppaea I will aid.
When did a mother yield herself to this?
Nero.
When had a mother such a lust for rule
That she could even yield herself to this?
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[Clasping his knees.]
Child, I have done with scorn, with bitter words,
With taunt, with gibe. Now I ask only pity—
A little pity from flesh that I conceived,
A little mercy from the body I bore,
And touches from the baby hands I kissed.
Nothing I ask of you, only to love me,
And if not that, to bear with me a while,
Who have borne much for you: no, Nero, child,
I will not weary you, I yearn for you.
Forgive me all the deeds that I have done for you,
Forget the great love I have spent on you,
Pardon the long, long life for you endured.
[Nero is moved and kisses her, then speaks with effort.
Nero.
Mother, if I have seemed to be forgetful,
Or cruel even, impute it not to me
But to the State.
[Agrippina starts.
'Tis thought that neither Rome,
The provinces, nor armies, will endure
To see a woman in such eminence.
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To Antium a while, and leave Rome free.
Agrippina.
[Starting up.]
Leave Rome! Why, I would die as I did step
Outside her gates, and glide henceforth a shadow.
The blood would cease to run in my veins, my heart
Stop, and my breath subside without her walls.
All without Rome is darkness: you will not
Despatch my shadow down to Antium?
Nero.
We were remembering your toils, your age.
Agrippina.
My age! Am I old then? Look on this face,
Where am I scarred, who have steered the bark of State
As it plunged, as it rose over the waves of change?
I was renewed with salt of such a sea.
Empires and Emperors I have outlived;
A thousand loves and lusts have left no line;
Tremendous fortunes have not touched my hair,
Murder hath left my cheek as the cheek of a babe.
[At this moment Burrus, Seneca, and Tigellinus return, hearing the scene;
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Agrippina.
My age! Who then accuses me of age?
Was this a flash from budding Seneca,
Or the boy Burrus' inspiration? Say?
Do I owe it to the shrivelled or the maimed?
Seneca.
Empress, it is determined you retire.
And you will better your own dignity
And his assert, if you will make this going
To seem a free inclining from yourself.
Agrippina.
Bookman, shall I learn policy from you?
Be patient with me. Nero, you I ask,
Not schoolmasters or stewards I promoted.
Is it your will I go to Antium?
Speak, speak. Be not the mouthpiece of these men:
Domitius!
Nero.
Mother, 'tis my will you go.
Agrippina.
Then, sir, discharge me not from your employ
Without some written commendation,
That I can tire the hair or pare the nails,
That those who were my friends may take me in!
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Lady!
Agrippina.
O, lady now? Mother, no more!
Nero.
[Pacing fiercely to and fro.]
Beware the son you bore: look lest I turn!
Chafe not too far the master of this world.
Agrippina.
See the new tiger in the dancer's eye:
'Ware of him, keepers—then, you bid me go?
[A pause.
Then I will go. But think not, though I go,
My spirit shall not pace the palace still.
I am too bound by guilt unto these walls.
Still shall you hear a step in dead of night;
In stillness the long rustle of my robe.
So long as stand these walls I cannot leave them.
Yet will I go: behold you, that stand by,
A mother by her own son thrust away,
Cast out—ha, ha!—in my old age, infirm,
To totter and mumble in oblivion!
Nero.
[To Seneca and Burrus.]
A little violent that—did you not think so?
And yet the gesture excellent and strong!
Agrippina.
Romans, behold this son: the man of men;
This harp-player, this actor, this buffoon—
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Peace!
Agrippina.
—sitting where great Julius but aspired
To sit, and died in the aspiring: see,
This mime—my son is he? And did I then
Have one mad moment with a street musician?
Seneca.
Have you no shame?
Agrippina.
This son now sends me forth,
Yet it was I, his mother, set him there.
[Murmur.
And, ah! if it were known at what a price,
Witness, you shades of the Silani!
Seneca.
Peace!
Agrippina.
And witness Messalina on vain knees!
[Murmur.
And witness Claudius with the envenomed cup.
Nero.
Silence, or—
Agrippina.
Not the seas shall stop me now,
Raging on all the shores of all the world.
Witness if easily my son did reign,
I am bloody from head to foot for sake of him,
And for my cub am I incarnadined.
[Murmur.
I'll go, but I fall, Rome too shall fall:
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On that ungrateful head; and if I fall,
The builded world shall tumble down in thunder.
[Murmur.
Ah!
[Seeing Britannicus.]
To my arms, boy!
[Snatches him to her side.]
Tremble now and shake!
Here is the true heir to the imperial throne,
Deposed by me, but now by me restored.
[Uproar.
I'll to the Praetorians!
[Clamour.
To the camp!
And there upon the one side they shall see
Britannicus the child of Claudius,
And me the daughter of Germanicus;
And on the other side a harp-player,
A withered pedant, and a maimèd sergeant,
Disputing for the diadem of the earth.
Come, Caesar, away to the Praetorians!
[Exit Agrippina leading Britannicus, followed by Court in great excitement, all but Burrus and Seneca, Tigellinus and Nero—a blank pause.
Seneca.
Now what to do?
Tigellinus.
Already can I hear
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This time to crown another. Burrus, you
Command them.
Burrus.
They would tear me into pieces,
As hounds a master entering in on them
Unrecognised, if Agrippina once
Halloeed to them the name ‘Germanicus.’
Tigellinus.
Surely Brittanicus must be our aim:
He gone, what threat, what counter-move hath she?
Removing him, we take the sting from her;
Then let her buzz at will.
Burrus.
But he is gone.
Seneca.
Even as an eagle snatches up a babe,
So Agrippina caught him up and flew.
Tigellinus.
For once my wits are lost.
Seneca.
Still, what to do?
[Nero has been sitting with his back to them, suddenly rises.
Nero.
Leave this to me!
Tigellinus.
O Caesar!
Nero.
[To Anicetus.]
Go thou fast
And intercept my mother on her way,
And say thou thus: ‘Nero thy son repents
His former ire and cancels the decree
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To supper, as a sign of amity,
And bring with thee the prince Britannicus.’
[Anicetus is going, but Nero stops him.
And as you go, send in to me Locusta.
[Exit Anicetus.
I have conceived—not fully—but conceived
The death-scene of the boy Britannicus.
Leave this to me.
Tigellinus.
O Caesar!
Nero.
It shall be
Performed to-night at supper: get you seats;
It shall be something new and wonderful,
Done after wine, and under falling roses;
And there shall be suspense in it, and thrill:
It shall be very sudden, very silent,
And terrible in silence—I the while,
Creator and arranger of the scene,
Reclining with a jewel in my eye;
And Agrippina shall be close to me,
Aware, yet motionless: Octavia,
Though but a child, yet too discreet for tears.
This you may deem as yet a little crude,
But other details I will add ere supper.
[Seneca withdraws in horror, as do the others, slowly.
54
Here's what I feared!
Tigellinus.
His eyes now! Yet how calm!
So steals the panther, stirring not a leaf!
[Exeunt slowly Seneca, Tigellinus, and Burrus. Nero walks to and fro, constructing the scene in pantomine to himself. Locusta enters down, right.
Nero.
You are Locusta, and your trade is poison.
[She makes obeisance.
[Uneasily.]
Is poison but a trade with you, or art?
Surely to slay is the supreme of arts;
And with no ugly wound or hideous blow,
But beautifully to extinguish life.
Have you some rare drug that kills suddenly?
As I have planned it, I can have no pause—
Death must be sudden—silent. And my guests
Must not be wearied with a pang prolonged,
And there must be no cry. That understand.
[Locusta, grovelling at his feet.
Locusta.
O Caesar, such a drug is known to me,—
But I will not reveal it.
Nero.
Die then.
55
Die?
O, I love life, but this I'll not reveal.
Nero.
Ah, you must live—you are an artist too.
Locusta.
I have a poison that is slipped in wine—
Not nauseous to the taste.
Nero.
An artist still!
Let me have that, and suddenly. And listen—
The cup presented to Britannicus
Must be too hot: so that he calls for snow
To cool it. In that snow the poison lurks.
[Exit Locusta.
[Anicetus hastily returns.
Anicetus.
O Caesar, the Augusta had not left
The palace; and now, o'erjoyous at thy words,
She will be present at the supper-board,
Bringing with her the prince Britannicus.
[Servants enter with various dishes and arrange the tables and couches for the guests, and supper begins.
[They all recline amid a low hum of conversation. Dreamy music is heard, which might be a continuation of the music played before.
56
[At a sign from Nero, flowers descend from the ceiling. At first lilies, then of deeper and deeper colour. At last a tempest of roses which gradually slackens.
Nero.
Britannicus, I voice a general wish.
Sweet is it, early and thus easily
To have garnered fame: the crown is for the few,
And these are tasked to reach it ere they die.
Oftener the laurel on grey hairs is laid,
Or on the combèd tresses of the dead.
[Britannicus goes to the top of the stairs to recite, and at a sign from Nero wine is handed to him.
57
This is too hot: some snow to cool it: so—
[Cold snow is put in and he drinks. He then recites.
Beside the melancholy surge I roam—
A sad exile, a stranger, sick for home:
A prince I was in my far native land
Who wander to and fro this alien sand:
Riches I had, and steeds, a glimmering crown;
Never had known a harshness or a frown.
Now must I limp and beg from door to door,
Wet with the storm, or in the sun footsore:
I, by a brother's cunning dispossessed,
Crave for these languid limbs a place of rest.
Pity me, robbed of all!
[He gives a cry and falls headlong. His limbs quiver a moment and then are still. Meanwhile the shower of roses has slackened. There is a dead silence, and in the silence slowly all the guests turn and look at Nero, who rises, with the emerald in his eye.
Nero.
Lift up the prince and bear him to his room.
I do entreat that none of you will stir
Or rise perturbed: my brother, since his birth,
58
Refill the cups: proceed we with the feast!
[There is an attempt to renew the feasting, but soon a scene of uproar and confusion arises, and the guests leave the tables in alarm.
[Agrippina alone remains unmoved, and then, as the guests have departed in disorder, she confronts Nero alone.
Agrippina.
Thou hast done this.
Nero.
Mother, I am thy son!
| Nero | |