 | Octavia |  |
SCENE THE FOURTH.
Tigellinus, Nero, Poppœa.Ti.
Long live the emperor.
Ne.
Hast thou slain, dispersed them?
Am I the lord of Rome?—But what? thou comest
With an unbloody sword?
Ti.
The time for blood
Is not yet come; but it approaches swiftly.
But yet the greatest art is necessary;
Various reports I spread among the people:
Now, that thou perhaps didst meditate once more
To reinstate Octavia; if she could
From some aspersions of malignant tongues
Exonerate her fame: now, that the wild,
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Had, even in Octavia's bosom, roused
A noble indignation; and that she
Returns to Rome the harbinger of peace,
Not of disturbance ...
Pop.
Thinks the foolish people
That I, for her, feel pity? ...
Ne.
Always art,
Always? Never the sword?
Ti.
The circumstance
The most improbable, sometimes appears
True to the people. At these various tales,
Whether convinced, or wearied, it repress'd,
In a great measure, the extravagance
Of its rebellious joy. Meanwhile the day
Declines; and night's lugubrious shade will be
A signal to far other arguments.
Already the pretorians noiselessly
Have mustered; many are proscribed already.
The sun to-morrow will arise in blood;
And thence in silence. Yet if thou dost wish
Complete extinctions ere to-morrow's close
Of all refractory broils; if thou dost wish
A desolation long and terrible,
Should, to a false and transient joy, succeed;
Thou art constrain'd now to full light to bring
The heavy accusations urged already
Against Octavia: by another method
Thou ne'er wilt fully consummate thy purpose.
Thou canst not slay at will ...
Ne.
So much the worse.
Ti.
But thou mayst all convince. This, I assure thee,
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Ne.
Go, Tigellinus, since we are constrain'd to't,
And the projected accusation urge
With cautious vehemence. Poppœa, now,
Let us depart; soon shall we both obtain
A complete triumph o'er this impious woman.
Meanwhile the day will come, when my revenge
Shall be secured without the aid of others.
| Octavia | |