University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The camp of Nero at Grumentum in Lucania. Nero in his tent.
Enter Catius.
Cat.
Oh! Nero, fooled and foiled! His camp is empty!
The camp-fires and a handful of Numidians
Were all of Hannibal we watched last night.

Nero.
Is it so? Have thou patience. I will hold
Fast to his traces still, o'er rough and smooth,
By mountain and by valley, town and field,
E'er I will let him go to Hasdrubal.

Cat.
He shakes our legions off from him like flies;
And when we swarm around his path again,
Lo, he is gone!

Nero.
Be patient still, I say.
He shall not find his Hasdrubal.

Cat.
Well said,—
And yet I think it shame this net of armies
We've flung so closely round him, lets him through,
Oft as he lists to break its meshes.

Nero.
Catius,
Let us wait. It may be that the gods of Rome
Are mightier than ambition of one man.
But we have talked enough. 'Tis time to march.
Let us trace his steps, and where they lead us, follow.

Enter a Soldier.
Sold.
My lord, this instant has arrived from Rome,
Upon an errand to thee, Mutines
The African.

Nero.
Alone?

Sold.
He comes alone,
Having ridden all night. He begs admittance to you.

Nero.
Let him come in.
Mutines is admitted.
I greet thee, Mutines.

Mut.
Thanks, noble consul.

Nero.
Thou hast an errand to me?

Mut.
First, I am charged with letters from the senate. [Gives them.]


Nero.
What art thou charged with else?

Mut.
This only, Nero.
I come to offer thee a soldier's service.
Not all the bounteous honour Rome has done me
Can make mine idle days supportable.
I crave, I thirst for my old trade again.
I ask for no command—only to ride
My charger in thy ranks—to breathe once more
The brave air of a camp.

Nero.
Assuredly
I grant thee this. One whom my senate deemed
Worthy our citizenship, must be welcome
In the army of Rome's consul. For the present
I say no more but this.

Mut.
Thou hast said enough,
O noble Nero! for my soul's desire.
Suffer me now to care for my tired steed.

Nero.
Go, then; and having done so, lose no time
In seeking out the Master of the Horse,
For I am on the point to march from hence.

[Exit Mutines.
Cat.
Strange, truly! Yet not strange in that base mixture
Of Libyan and Phœnician. Why so hot
Against his friend and patron to bear arms?
'Twas one thing to desert his cause far off
In Sicily, but far another, sure,
In battle to confront him to whose favour
He once had owed his all, and from whose hand
He never had a wrong. But for the gloom
Unfeigned, expressed in voice and countenance,
I could suspect some treason.

Nero.
So not I.
He has sinned past pardoning, and knows he might
As well seek mercy in the tiger's den
As in the vengeful camp of Hannibal.
Had he meant treason he had feigned more smoothly.
The Libyan perfidies are veiled in smiles.

[Exeunt Nero and Catius.