 | Octavia |  |
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE THE FIRST.
Octavia, Seneca.Oct.
Oh Seneca, approach; let me at least
Shed tears with thee: hard lot! I find not one,
Not one to pity, and to weep with me.
Sen.
Lady, and is it true? This infamous
And lying accusation ...
Oct.
Save this last
Dire outrage, all from Nero I expected;
And this alone increases all my suffering.
Sen.
Were ever folly and atrocity
So mingled in fatuity of guilt?
Thou paragon of innocence and faith,
Thou modest, gentle, and compassionate,
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Pure and unspotted: shalt thou of thy fame
Be thus despoil'd? Oh no, it shall not be!
I yet exist, the living evidence
Of all thy virtue; Rome shall hear me yet
Proclaim thee innocent with my last breath:
What heart so hard as not to pity thee?
Ah! tell me not (what words can ill express)
How bitter are thy tears: I feel it all,
And share thy grief.
Oct.
But thou dost hope in vain.
Nothing, till he has robb'd me of my fame,
Does Nero deem that he has taken from me.
All at his mercy lies: thyself wouldst share
Ruin, and all in vain: ah! thou indeed
Makest me tremble for thyself. But yet
Thy fame beyond the reach of man is placed
By a long series of virtuous deeds:
Ah, were it so with mine! ... But young, a woman,
In a flagitious court brought up, oh Heaven!
Guilty I may be deemed of shameful crimes.
The world believes not, nor should it believe,
That I preserve a love for Nero still:
Yet though a thousand times in thousand forms
He has infix'd the dagger in my breast,
Still is the seeing that he loves another
The grief surpassing every other grief.
Sen.
Nero still spares my life: I know not why;
Nor do I know what destiny of mine
Withdraws me from the track that Burrhus trod,
And a few others eminent for virtue,
That he has slain. Yet Nero, though he spare,
Has not yet cancell'd from his book of death
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Cut the precarious thread of my frail life,
Had not the hope restrain'd me (ah deceived,
And scarce remaining hope!) that I one day
Might reconduct him to the path of virtue.
Yet, at the risk of this poor span of life,
At least I hope to rescue from his hand
Some innocent. Ah, mightest thou be she!
Oh might I spare thee infamy at least!
Having done this, oh, how exultingly
Should I expire!
Oct.
At once I laid aside
All thoughts of life when I these thresholds pass'd.
Not that I fear not death; whence should I gain
Such strength of mind? 'Tis true, I fear to die:
And yet I wish it; and, with anxious thought,
I turn to thee, thou master in the science.
Sen.
Ah! ... think ... Thou tear'st my heart ...
Oct.
Thou canst alone
Deliver me; from infamy at least ...
Infamy! now thou seest whence it falls
On me: Poppæa dares impute to me
The most disgraceful love.
Sen.
Oh worthy spouse
Of cruel Nero!
Oct.
Virtue certainly
Does not enamour him: audacious, free,
And overbearing manners, act on him,
At once, as an incentive and a yoke:
Tenderness wearies him. What have I not done
To please him? I respected, as a law,
His smallest intimation; and held sacred
His every wish. Clandestinely I wept
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If from my lips Nero obtain'd no praise,
Censure he never heard. I wept in silence;
And feign'd to think him guiltless of that blood:
But to no purpose: 'twas my cruel fate,
Whatever I attempted, to displease him.
Sen.
Could Nero ever love thee if thou wert not
Impious and cruel? Calm thyself a little.
The day now dawns. Soon as the multitude
Of thy return shall hear, 'twill wish to see thee,
And give thee proofs of its entire attachment.
From it I draw much hope; at thy departure
Its outcries were most turbulent; nor ceased
During thy absence discontented whispers.
Greatly depraved, but still more greatly fearful,
All that he would do, Nero dare not do.
He fears the people. Fierce and proud he is;
Yet hitherto the throne beneath him totters:
And perhaps one day ...
Oct.
What noise is this I hear?
Sen.
Methinks the people ...
Oct.
They approach the palace ...
Oh heavens!
Sen.
The cries of an insurgent people
I seem to hear.
Oct.
What will become of us?
Sen.
What fearest thou? We are the only persons
That in this horrible palace need not tremble ...
Oct.
Louder and louder does the tumult swell.
Ah wretched me! Perhaps Nero is in danger ...
But who do I behold?
Sen.
Nero; he comes.
Oct.
In his ferocious and ensanguined eyes,
Oh! with what rage he burns!—I tremble ...
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SCENE THE SECOND.
Nero, Octavia, Seneca.Ne.
Who,
Perfidious woman, who art thou, that thus
All Rome is up in arms at thy return,
And dares to shout thy name? What dost thou here?
What plottest thou with that pernicious traitor?
Ye both are in my power. The foolish people
In vain demands to see thee. Ah! I hope,
At least, if I am forced to it, as thou
Deservest to be shewn, to shew thee dead.
Oct.
Dispose of me, oh Nero, as thou wilt.
But of each popular commotion, ah!
Believe that I am innocent. I ask,
(I swear to thee) I neither ask, nor hope,
Aught from the people's love: in spite of me,
When it might injure thee, do thou prevent
Th'involuntary error by my death.
Ne.
I would that every one, or ere thou'rt punished,
Should know thee as thou art, a malefactor.
Sen.
And dost thou hope the people to deceive
With such a base untruth?
Ne.
Thou also, thou,
Thou cowardly fomenter of disturbance,
Which thou thyself avoidest; occult source
Of these rebellious movements; thou shalt be
Ere long the puny victim of my vengeance.
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SCENE THE THIRD.
Nero, Octavia, Tigellinus, Seneca.Ti.
Emperor ...
Ne.
What bring'st thou, Tigellinus? speak.
Ti.
More and more fervently the tempest rages:
Thy judgment must apply the remedy.
Scarce heard the people that a sovereign mandate
Recall'd Octavia to Rome, than each
Is emulous to see her. Foolishly
They deem that thou hast changed thy first resolve:
And there are who assert that thou again
Hast in thy bed received her. Wild with joy,
These in the capitol prefer their vows;
On the neglected statues of Octavia
Those replace chaplets of triumphal laurel:
Others, with transport drunk, dare to cast down
Those of Poppæa; their audacity
So far has risen, that, 'mid cries and shouts,
Dragg'd in the dust and filth indignantly,
Broken they lie. With epithets of scorn
They execrate her name: and to the skies,
Nero, with acclamations loud, extol:
The greater part demands Poppæa's exile;
And some more cruel imprecate her death.
Triumphant hymns, and threatenings, thou wilt hear;
Then prayers and threats again, and prayers once more.
Each bosom burns: authority is fled.
The soldiers and commanders tried to stem
The irresistible, impetuous torrent;
In vain they tried; a moment saw them all
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What shall we do? What is thy sovereign will?
Ne.
What shall we do? ... The people must behold
This their Octavia:—Let her then be slain.
Oct.
See my defenceless bosom: if it please thee
Slay me at once. Ah, may my blood appease thee.
Shew me to th'inflamed multitude when dead:
Thou wilt at once, by doing this, repress
All culpable rejoicing. Let the urn,
This is my sole request, receive my relics,
That holds the ashes of Britannicus.
So may thy throne find in our monument
A sacred and an everlasting base.
Why dost thou now delay? receive my life;
I owe it to thy fury.
Sen.
If at once
Thou wouldst to-day both lose thy throne and life,
Certain the method is: Octavia slay.
Ne.
At all events on her I would take vengeance.
Oct.
Not only one death, I would have a thousand,
Ere the least detriment I caused to Nero.
Ti.
But the time presses more and more. Hear'st thou
Those savage howlings? I have never seen
So furious an attack; and so much less
Surmountable, as 'tis th'effect of joy.
'Tis needful to decide.
Oct.
Can it be doubtful?
Nero, henceforward, to prevent all tumult,
'Tis indispensable to slay or love me.
The one, thou couldst not even feign to do;
The other, for a long time thou hast wished:
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Or if this be not the propitious moment
For such decision, temporize awhile;
Thou easily may'st do it. Credulous
The people are, and if their sudden movements
Be from their channel turn'd, their force is lost.
This will be easy; 'twill alone suffice
That I with placid looks present myself,
As in thy favour I were reinstated;
That I but feign that I am thine. The crowd
Will thus be soon dispersed; all tumult quell'd.
Thus to unsheathe thy sword wilt thou gain time,
And to destroy thy victims.
Ne.
Yes, to Rome
Will I present thee: but first will discover
Whether I am in Rome the real master.
Thou, Tigellinus, to the camp repair;
Silently the pretorian bands assemble;
Thence with a terrible, unexpected force,
On the refractory fall; and by the death
Of whomsoe'er thou meetest mark thy steps.
Ti.
I will attempt it; though the consequence
Be most precarious. 'Twill, indeed, appear
A harsh expedient to repress with swords
A sudden gust of joy. And should it turn
To indignation? brief is the transition.
'Tis no light task to cope with a whole city:
Suppose that with my partisans I fall;
Who then remains in thy defence?
Ne.
'Tis true ...
But yet to yield would seem ...
Ti.
Now trust to me:
Do not incur a mighty danger lightly:
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Disperse them all.
Ne.
The guardian of Octavia
I remain here. In my name do thou go,
Shew thyself to them: what the people are
Thou knowest well; to temporize with them
Will be the worst. At thy discretion feign,
Grant, promise, cheat, destroy, and put in practice
Gold, terror, weapons, flattery, menaces,
So that they be o'ercome. Go, fly, return.
SCENE THE FOURTH.
Nero, Octavia, Seneca.Ne.
Woe on thee, Seneca, if from this palace
Thou dost attempt to stir! but keep thyself
Out of my sight, let my eyes never see thee.
Meanwhile prefer at will nefarious vows;
Hope and desire; thy day of retribution
Also approaches quickly.
Sen.
I expect it.
SCENE THE FIFTH.
Nero, Octavia.Ne.
And thou, Octavia, this thy final triumph
Fully enjoy; for soon ...
Oct.
The day, too late,
Will also come when thou wilt know Octavia.
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SCENE THE SIXTH.
Poppæa, Nero, Octavia.Pop.
Say, Nero, hat thou placed me at thy side,
And on thy throne, that I should be the scorn,
The laughing-stock of thy audacious people?
But what do I behold? while I am thus
The victim of derision, unavenged,
Irresolute, and silent dost thou stand
In presence of the author of thy wrongs?
In truth, fit master of the world is Nero!
Yet notwithstanding does the multitude
Prefer his wife to him.
Oct.
Thou hast alone
The heart of Nero: what dost thou then fear?
I, a vile prisoner, I the hostage am
Of the audacious people's wavering faith.
Do thou rejoice: soon as all things are calm,
The transient wounds of thy ambitious heart
Will find a sovereign balsam in my blood.
Ne.
Soon will thy shameful deeds be brought to light;
The paltry idol Rome will soon behold
Which for herself she raised. Thy outrages,
Poppæa, will to honour be ascribed;
Her honours only to her infamy.
Oct.
And if there are who could convict Octavia,
By fair and open proofs, of infamy,
I have already in my secret heart
Chosen Poppæa as my only judge;
To thee do I appeal. Thou knowest well
What criminality it is to change
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Those who are guilty of the crime deserve.
But I am innocent, alas! too much so,
E'en in your eyes. Yes, quit my presence, thou
Who standest here so haughty in thy virtue;
Thou darest not e'en now sustain my looks.
Ne.
How dar'st thou thus? Respect thy emperor's wife;
And tremble ...
Pop.
Heed her not. She chuses well
In me her judge: what judge can she e'er find
More merciful? What other punishment
To her who has betray'd my Nero's love,
What other punishment can I inflict
Than that of losing him eternally?
What punishment to thee can be more light?
That vulgar love, which thou in vain concealest,
Thou hast obtain'd my free consent to publish.
Yes, worthy mistress of Eucerus, I
Would worthily to him affiance thee.
Oct.
Alas! Eucerus only is a veil
To guilt compared with which e'en he is noble.
But I with thee contend not: to that honour
I was not born; I am not so audacious ...
Ne.
To whom art thou now equal? Thy base flame
Makes thee more vile than e'en the vilest handmaid:
Yes, from thy rank, and from thy noble birth,
Thou art entirely fallen.
Oct.
Less wouldst thou hate me,
If I had fallen thus to the lowest pitch;
Or if thou couldst believe it. But I yield,
If thus thou willest, every thing to thee
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Nor can I cease, whate'er thou be'st, to love thee,
Nor for that love to blush: immense disgrace,
'Tis true, I feel it to proclaim myself
The rival of Poppæa: but I am not;
Never did she love thee: thy rank, thy throne,
And all the splendour that encircles thee,
These, and not Nero, have secured her heart.
Ne.
Perfidious woman, now, e'en now ...
Oct.
And thou,
When I began to love thee, such thou wert not:
Perhaps thou wert born for virtue: never, never
Didst thou discover in thy early years
Such dire propensities. Who has thus changed
Thy nature, changed thy heart? she that bewitch'd
Thy faculties; she first instructed thee
To thirst for blood; she is the curse of Rome.
My own wrongs I suppress, which are the least;
But by thy means the very Tyber runs
Distain'd with blood; brother, and mother ...
Ne.
Cease,
Be silent, leave me, or I ...
Pop.
Does she merit
The indignation of my lord? Abuse
Is the accustomed idle subterfuge
Of the convicted. If she could offend me,
Or thou couldst yield belief to what she says,
One of her words alone had wounded me.
What said she? that I love thee not? thou knowest . .
Oct.
Better than he thou know'st it; he would know it
If he should lose the throne; then would he fully
Behold thee as thou art. Ah why, oh throne,
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Wert thou my cradle? Ah! why sprung I not
From obscure blood? to thee had I then been
Less hateful, less suspected, less displeasing.
Ne.
To me less hateful? Thou wert always so,
And now thou art much more so: but that hate
Will now be transient.
Pop.
And if I boast not
Imperial ancestors, dost thou infer
My blood is thence obscure? Yet if it were,
'Twere a sufficient solace not to be
Daughter of Messalina.
Oct.
My forefathers
Sat on the throne; from thence to all the world
Their failings are divulged; but who e'er heard
Of thy obscure and unknown ancestors?
Yet if betwixt us any one should dare
To make comparisons, could he allege
Against Octavia an exchange of husbands?
Am I perchance the refuse of a Rufus,
Or of an Otho?
Ne.
For a little while,
Of death art thou the refuse. Now, the mode
Of thy destruction is alone uncertain;
Thou canst but change it for the worse.—Depart;
Meanwhile keep thou to thy apartments; go;
And let me no more hear thee.
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
Nero, Poppæa.Ne.
Learn, Poppæa,
To know thyself, to know thy Nero, better.
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And should I bury with myself my throne,
I swear to thee, this outrage is the last
That thou shalt bear from her; nor from my hands
Shall she be ever rescued.—Calm thyself;
Resume thy confidence; confide in me ...
Pop.
I have no fear except to die not thine ...
Ne.
Ah! cease. The tumult rapidly has risen,
And quickly will subside: I also now
Prepare myself for action. Be secure;
Of all the indignities that thou hast suffer'd,
Me wilt thou speedily behold th'avenger.
| Octavia | |