University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Poppæa, Tigellinus.
Pop.
To-day a common danger we incur;
Oh Tigellinus, it behoves us then,
To-day, to seek a common remedy.

Ti.
And what? Fear'st thou Octavia? ...

Pop.
Certainly
Not her allurements; hitherto have mine
Prevail'd in Nero's eyes: I apprehend
Her feign'd affection, her feign'd gentleness;
The arts of Seneca, and his reproaches,
The violence of the people, the remorse
Of Nero; these I fear.

Ti.
Long has he loved thee,
And dost thou not yet know him? His remorse
Springs from an incapacity to injure.
Believe me now, 'tis but to consummate
A more complete revenge, that he to Rome
Thus draws Octavia. Let it work in him
That innate rancour, fathomless and bitter;
This, added to the inveterate abhorrence
His fruitless bed inspired; these are alone
The sure preventives to our common danger.

Pop.
Feel'st thou secure? Not I.—But thy frank converse
Induces me to speak. I know full well
The soul of Nero; of compunctious workings
It is not capable: but terror, say,
Is terror not omnipotent in him?
Who did not see him tremble at the sight
Of his detested mother? Was he not
Wholly possest with love for me; yet dared he,
While she was living, give to me his hand?
By the mere sternness of his silent scowl
Did not e'en Burrhus awe him? Finally,
Of all power destitute, and garrulous,
Does Seneca sometimes not even yet
Affright him with his magisterial prate?
These are the mirrors, whose reflection forms
The semblance of a conscience. The remorse
Is this, of which I think him capable.
Now add to these the uproar of the rabble,
The menaces of Rome ...

Ti.
These will consign
Octavia more quickly to the fate
Which fell on Agrippina and on Burrhus,
To which so many, many more were doom'd.
Suffer that to his ancient enmity
Fresh fears be added, in a breast like his,
T'inspire the wish, and lastly to mature it,
For the destruction of thy rival. He
Has not discover'd yet to me his thoughts,
But I'm aware that nothing sharpens more
Nero's fierce cunning than his boundless fear.
Rome, clamorous for Octavia, kills Octavia.

Pop.
Yes; but meanwhile Octavia may usurp
A transient glimmering of capricious favour?
Octavia hates us both: what would defend thee
From such effective wrath? Th'irresolute,
And frail reluctance of a trembling lord?
One untoward instant may alone suffice
To o'erwhelm us both; what consolation then
To us, if we are doom'd to fall the first,
That she fall after us?

Ti.
Fear not, oh no!
That she secure e'en a brief flash of favour.
The way to Nero's heart Octavia knows not.
Her weak parade of austere virtue frets him;
Obedience, love, timidity, in her,
Alike displease him; and that very bait
With which by us he's caught, in her he hates.
But yet, if I can any thing perform,
What ought I now to do?

Pop.
Sagaciously
Explore, and warn me of, the smallest trifles;
Exert keen foresight; to his rage bring fuel;
Invent contrivances, propose to Nero
A thousand, for the ruin of my rival;
Tax her with faults where she has none: in short,
As far as thy dexterity suggests,
Apply a thousand means; go, come, assail him,
Work on his passions, blind them; and watch always:—
This shouldst thou do.

Ti.
This will I do: fear not:
But the best instrument for such effects
Is Nero's own dark heart; he in the lore
Of vengeance is a master; and, thou knowest,
If others shew in this an equal skill,
He is incensed.

Pop.
That all conspires to inflame
His rage, I know full well. With my excess
Of love erewhile he reprimanded me;
And spoke to me already of the throne
Like a ferocious despot.

Ti.
Take thou heed
Not to provoke him ever: o'er his heart
Thy power is great; but impulses of rage,
Intoxication of supreme command,
And a fierce thirst of vengeance, can controul,
Far more than love, the workings of his heart.
Depart: he wished to speak with me alone
In these apartments: all thy interests
Implicitly confide to Tigellinus.

Pop.
I swear to thee, that, if in this thou serv'st me,
None that approach the person of the emperor,
Shall equal thee in power and confidence.