 | Octavia |  |
SCENE THE THIRD.
Nero, Poppæa.Pop.
Emperor, appease thy rage ...
Ne.
For words like these
I'll make thee pay ere long.—Oh insolence! . .
Then am I here of all men least, the slave
Of every braggard, till my army come?
Of contradictory and diverse schemes
On every side I have a stress: and those,
Whom by a sudden blow I would o'erwhelm,
By long elaborate contrivances,
And one by one, I'm forced to immolate.
Pop.
Oh what compunction in my heart I feel!
What conflict in myself! Of all thy cares
I am the guilty reason, I alone.
Ne.
The more thou costest me, the more I love thee.
Pop.
'Tis time at length, oh Nero, it is time,
That, by myself, a lofty remedy
Should be applied, since I alone possess it.
Ne'er hope the audacious people will be tranquil
While I am with thee. Ah, Rome now disdains
That generous progeny of the mighty Cæsars
Which I shall give her soon. 'Twere better far
That on the miscreated lineage
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Hereafter should devolve. A powerful mind,
Such as perchance I have not, could alone
Tear up this evil by the roots. Although
A pretext I afford, and nothing else,
To popular commotions which arise
Elsewhere, yet have I in my heart decreed ...
Ah, yes, but too irrevocably fixed! ...
I ought to do it, and I will ...
Ne.
Ah! cease.—
It was my business to gain time with time,
And somewhat of it I have gain'd already.
What fear'st thou now? Depend upon it, we
Shall be triumphant ...
Pop.
Ah permit that I,
If at thy feet I do not now expire,
Give thee my last farewel ...
Ne.
What sayest thou?
Arise! Shall I leave thee?
Pop.
What profits it
To feign with me? Do not I plainly see,
Emperor, that thou, alone to calm my spirits,
Forcest thyself to hide from me thy fears?
Do not I read thy heart's most secret movements
In thy beloved face? A lady's eye,
Sharpen'd by love, sees all things at a glance.—
At the audacious popular commotion
Octavia's coming caused, thou wert at first
Astonish'd; now thou hear'st the hardihood
Increasing, which affrighted ...
Ne.
I affrighted?
Pop.
I know thy firm heart still persists in vengeance;
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Remain obnoxious to repeated insults.
Thou wert constrain'd e'en now to hear with patience
The irreverent babblings of a Seneca:
Thou seest clearly ...
Ne.
I affrighted?
Pop.
Yes;
For me thou art so:—of another fear
Thou'rt not susceptible: thou feel'st alarm'd,
Lest on my head the popular storm should fall.—
Couldst thou now love, and not be apprehensive?
For me, 'tis easy from my own distress,
To infer thy state. Distracted by thy danger,
Full of thy image, mindless of myself,
The transient flash of a precarious peace
Suffices not to calm me. To our fears
I wish to put an end, and extricate
Thee from all risk, by my own sacrifice.—
For ever I will lose thee, to preserve
Entire for thee the affections of thy people.
Ne.
But what? dost think me ...
Pop.
Nero, say no more:
I will, in spite of thee, promote thy good:
I am resolved to abdicate thy throne;
To chuse a voluntary banishment
From Rome; and, if need be, from the vast empire.
Her, whom the multitude would now enthrone,
Let her be empress, since the multitude
Is made the arbiter of thy affections:
Yes, let her have the throne, (this is the least)
But she will have my Nero's bed and love ...
... Unhappy that I am! ... Thus wilt thou have
Security and peace.—'Twill be to me
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And if I cannot, while I live, possess thee,
'Twill be to me an ample solace, thus,
By quitting, to have snatch'd thee from all danger ...
Ne.
Yield, lady, to the entreaties of thy consort;
Or the injunctions of thy lord respect.
From me thou canst not, no, not e'en thyself
Can, take thyself away; except my life,
And my vast empire should be first snatch'd from me,
No human force can do it. To my vengeance,
Which ought to be so memorably fierce,
And to th'ungovernable rage that boils
Within my breast, (e'en I am forced to own it)
Compared with their intensity, the means
By which they operate are slow; and perhaps
They seem more tardy than they really are:
But is a vengeance resolute like mine,
Because suspended, dead?
Pop.
To save thyself,
Or to acquire more time, believe me, Nero,
My banishment is indispensable.—
Wouldst thou that I should by constraint depart,
While now I can with a good grace? The people
Dare menace even this; and this will be
The mildest of its threatenings. It pretends
To chuse another husband for Octavia,
And that he reign with her. Thus, thou dost see,
Sovereign arbitrement in her is centred.
Shall I permit thee for Poppæa's sake
T'exchange the throne? Ah! Nero, take at once
My last farewell ...
Ne.
Cease, cease: this is too much.
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And even should the day arrive, when thou
Shalt, o'er Octavia, and the people, gain
Sovereign ascendency, thou wilt incur
Thence, in no small degree, eternal hate.
And then, who knows? thou mightest blame for this
Wretched Poppæa. That which now thou feel'st,
Genuine regard for me, who knows, if thou
Repentant, wilt not then, for hate, exchange it?
Oh heaven! At such a thought my blood runs cold.
Ah! let me sooner die afar from thee ...
But thus, at least, I carry to the tomb
Thy love, with me, entire ...
Ne.
Let this suffice;
My rage already is too much inflamed ...
Dismiss all projects of abandoning me.
Rome, and the world, and heaven, permit it not,
Mine shalt thou always be: this Nero swears.
| Octavia | |