Octavia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thou leavest me to bitter anguish. What,
Shall it ne'er be that I shall witness thee
Blest by our mutual love?

Ne.
I, far from thee,
Am sometimes banish'd by our love, Poppæa,
And by our love alone. Thee I secured
With long and perilous toil; to keep thee now
I should assiduously strive: thou knowest,
That even at my very sceptre's risk,
I will that thou be mine ...

Pop.
Except thyself,
Who would, who could dissever me from thee?
Each nod of thine, each will of thine, in Rome,
Is law supreme. Thou, as a recompence
Of my regard, bestow'dst thyself on me,
And thou from me may'st take thyself away;
And as thou canst effectively do this,
So could I ne'er survive the loss of thee.

Ne.
Take thee from me! Not heaven itself could do it.
But guilty popular insolence, not yet
Utterly smother'd, dares meanwhile to blame
The affections of my heart: hence I'm constrain'd
To take preventive measures ...

Pop.
And dost thou
That popular insolence heed?

Ne.
I hope, ere long,
To shew how much I heed it; but I fain
Would leave without a head this frantic hydra:
Scarce will its last head tumble on the ground,
Whence Rome derives her hope, ere broken, mute,
Torn, and annihilate, to earth will fall
Her haughty multitudes. Rome has not yet

Discover'd Nero's heart; I from her thoughts
Her fond traditionary tales of freedom
Will utterly expel. Octavia, now
The last survivor of the Claudii,
Resounds in every mouth; the multitude,
In my despite, deplores her destiny,
Not from affection; in the people's heart
Love never enters: but the insolence
Of popular licentiousness it sooths
To recollect the weak and infirm sway
Of inept Claudius, and to sigh for that
Perversely, which no more they can possess.

Pop.
'Tis true: the tongues of Rome can ne'er be silent;
But have they any power except to prate?
Should this alarm thee?

Ne.
For Octavia
A too auspicious place of banishment
Incautiously I've chosen. For the name
Of Agrippina, the entire armament
Now station'd on Campania's shores, retains
A partial recollection. In their breasts
Desire of novelty, a specious pity
For Claudius' daughter, disaffected thoughts,
And traitrous purposes, have taken root.
I have ill-chosen such a place of exile;
And should do worse in suffering her to stay there.

Pop.
And should Octavia in thy mind excite
Such keen solicitude? Why not dispatch her
Beyond the confines of thy mighty empire?
What exile more effectual than this,
If that indeed suffice? What trackless desert
Is so remote that it can sever her

Too far from thee, preposterously who dares
To attribute to herself the foolish boast
Of giving thee the throne?

Ne.
Till she has lost,
Entirely lost, the power to injure me,
In Rome, and in my palace, she will have
A residence least perilous for me.

Pop.
What do I hear? Octavia come to Rome!

Ne.
Now hear my arguments.

Pop.
Am I then she? ...

Ne.
Ah! hear me ...

Pop.
Yes, full well I understand; ...
Quickly must I depart ...

Ne.
Listen to me:
Octavia doth not to thy detriment
Return to Rome: but surely to her own ...

Pop.
That she returns there to thy detriment,
Quickly wilt thou behold. Meanwhile I tell thee
That not one city, much less then one palace,
While we are living, can at once contain
Octavia and myself. Let her return
That seated Nero on the world's proud throne;
To make him abdicate that throne she comes.
For thee I grieve, not for myself, ah no;
I am most willing to return once more
To my beloved Otho. Much he loved me,
And with no lukewarm fondness loves me still:
Ah that I could contrive to love again
That so devoted lover! But Poppæa
Her heart could ne'er divide; nor would accept
Thy heart divided with her hated rival.
I was enamour'd of thyself alone,
Not of thy throne, and still, alas! I am:

The love, not of the monarch of the world,
But of my much-loved Nero, was to me
An irresistible enticement: then
If but in part thou tak'st thyself from me,
If undividedly I do not reign
In thy great heart, I yield the whole, I yield
And spurn at all the rest. Alas! could I
Tear as effectively from my fond heart
Thy form, as I'm inflexibly resolved
On total alienation from thy presence.

Ne.
Poppæa, I adore thee, this thou knowest;
With what affection, that which I have done,
And that which I design to do, will prove.
But thou ...

Pop.
What wouldst thou? Can I at thy side
Behold that odious rival, and remain there?
Can I admit the thought? Unworthy lady!
Who knows not how, who will not, cannot love,
And yet dare feign to love.

Ne.
Ah tranquillize
Thy mind, thy heart; banish each jealous fear.
But yet respect my sovereign will. 'Tis now
Impossible that she should not return.
Already she towards Rome advances: here
To-morrow will behold her. Thy repose
Not less than mine demands Octavia's presence.
But why enumerate reasons if I wish it?
I, not accustomed, if my will is fixed,
To meet with obstacles. Believe me, lady,
I am not satisfied with such a love
As thou displayest, of all fear exempt.
Who most obey and fear me, know that they
Love me the best.

Pop.
Alas! my very boldness
Proceeds from the intensity of fear.
Oh how much may'st thou injure me! Thy love
Thou may'st withdraw fro me ... Ah! rather first
Take thou my life: that punishment were milder.

Ne.
Poppæa, cease; confide in my affection.
Doubt never of my faith; above all things
Fear to oppose my will. E'en more than thou,
Her, whom thou call'st thy rival, I detest.
Completely sever'd from her turbulent friends,
Thou here shalt see her by my guards surrounded,
No more thy rival, but thy abject handmaid.
And, finally, if I have any skill
In arts of ruling, she herself shall give thee
Over herself the entire ascendency.