 | Octavia |  |
SCENE THE SIXTH.
Nero, Octavia.Oct.
In the deep horrors of a gloomy night
By armed guards surrounded, I am dragged
Into this very palace, whence I saw
Myself, two months ago, by violence torn.
May I presume now of my lord to ask
The cause of this?
Ne.
For lofty purposes
Our parents joined us in connubial ties
From our most tender years. Yet since that time
I never saw thee, as thou wert in words,
Conformable in actions to my will:
For a long time thy contumely I bore;
And should, perchance, have borne it longer, hadst thou
Made me the father of a royal offspring,
Numerous and lovely; in whose cheering presence
I might have found some solace to my cares.
85
By thee the throne remain'd devoid of heirs;
By thee my hopes of being a father cross'd.
Hence I divorced thee.
Oct.
Emperor, thou didst well;
Provided that another happier consort
Than I, alas! e'er was, could render thee
The joyful father of a numerous offspring.
I know thou hast not found, nor e'er wilt find,
One that, as I love, loves thee. What of this?
Have I perchance e'er murmur'd at thy will?
Seeing my husband in another's arms,
I've wept, and still I weep. Except my tears
And silence, and obsequiousness and sighs,
Has aught been heard from me?
Ne.
Perpetual sweetness
Dwells on thy lips; but not within thy heart.
Thy words betray thy rancour: ill thou hidest
The anger thou conceivest in thy breast
Against Poppæa. And far less hast thou
Concealed thy other proud remembrances
Of unauthentic rights.
Oct.
Ah, couldest thou
Also forget, as much as I forget
These not imaginary rights of mine,
Since no imaginary ills they cost me! ...
Hatred and fury glisten in thy eyes.
Ah! I too plainly see that thou dost hate me,
More vehemently hate me, than a husband
From mere sterility could hate a wife.
Unhappy lady that I am! I most,
When most I love thee, have offended thee.
What have I asked of thee? What ask I now?
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And liberty to weep.
Ne.
And I, indeed,
Assured that thou wouldst in an obscure life
Be better satisfied, to thee prescribed
The life; but afterwards ...
Oct.
But afterwards
Thou didst repent of this: didst feel remorse
Since I was not sufficiently unhappy.
Thou wishest me to live a witness here
Of thy new ties: thou wishest me to be
The handmaid of thy consort; to the world
A laughing-stock; derision of thy court.
Behold me then submissive to thy will:
What should I do? Speak. Issue thy commands.
Yet even in thy court entirely wretched
Thou canst not make me, if with my misfortunes
I satisfy thy heart. Say, art thou happy?
Reigns in thy heart a placid calm? Dost thou
Beside another spouse that tranquil sleep,
Of which thou robbest me, securely taste?
Does that Poppæa, whom, like me, thou hast not
Robbed of a brother, more than did Octavia
Ensure thy happiness?
Ne.
At what a price
Thou ought'st to hold his heart who rules the world,
Thou never knewest, and Poppæa knows.
Oct.
Poppæa knows how to esteem the throne
To which she was not born: I to esteem
Thyself: nor can she ever try to cope
With me in loving thee. She has, 'tis true,
Obtain'd thy heart; but I alone deserve it.
Ne.
No, no, thou canst not love me.
87
Rather say,
That I ought not to love thee: but from thine
Judge not thou of my heart. I know, that now
The blood from which I spring, except in me,
Is everlastingly extinct; I know
That in my heart, thy image, with the blood
Of all my family contaminate,
Ought never to have found a place: but this
Is force of destiny. Now, if my brother,
My father, slain by thee, I ne'er remember,
Dar'st thou allege against me as a crime
That brother and that father?
Ne.
As a crime,
The vile Eucerus I allege against thee.
Oct.
To me? ... Eucerus!
Ne.
Yes; to thee Eucerus;
The lover thou deservest.
Oct.
Ah, just Heaven!
Dost thou hear this?
Ne.
There are who dare to charge thee
As guilty of adulterous servile love:
For this alone I bring thee back to Rome.
Prepare thyself for which thou likest best,
Or to refute it, or to suffer for it.
Oct.
Oh unexampled, horrible imposture!
Where is the infamous accuser? ... Ah ...
Fool that I am, what questions do I ask?
Nero accuses, judges, and condemns.
Ne.
Behold thy boasted love! ... Yes, yes, the poison
At last flows freely from thy bursting heart;
Now that I have, at least in part, discover'd
Thy secret turpitude.
88
Ah wretched me! ...
What more remains for me? Driven from my bed,
My throne, my palace, and my country; this
Suffices not! ... Oh Heaven! my fame alone
Remain'd to me entire; alone consoled me
For every ravish'd good: this precious treasure
In vain, by her who lightly prized her own,
Was seen with envy: now or ere my life,
My fading life is gone, my fame is tarnished.
Haste, haste, oh Nero, why dost thou delay?
Peace, (if that blessing ever can be thine,)
Peace, I know well, thou never wilt enjoy
So long as I exist: can the means fail thee
To slay a helpless and a friendless lady?
Within the deep recesses of this palace,
The fatal dark abode of fraud and death,
Drag me at will: and let me there be slain.
Moreover, thou thyself may'st with thy hands
Cut short my life: not only will my death
Please thee, but it is necessary now.
Ah be appeased then with my death alone.
All other slaughter of my friends already
I have forgiven thee; I now forgive
The slaughter of myself; yes, kill, reign on,
And kill again: thou know'st all means of death;
Already Rome is skilful in the art
Of blazoning forth thy crimes in virtues' symbols;
What dost thou fear? In me of all the Claudii
The last survivor dies; all the remembrance,
And all the love the people ever bore them.
The gods are now accustomed to the fumes
Of thy ensanguined incense; at their altars
Still the memorials hang of every death:
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As trophies and as triumphs. Let my death
Suffice then to appease thee: why allege,
When death I do not shun, nay ask of thee,
Aspersions as iniquitous as false?
Ne.
For thy defence I wholly yield to thee
This dawning day. If thou art innocent
'Twill give me joy. My hate thou need'st not fear,
But thy own crime, which far surpasses it.
| Octavia | |