University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Octavia.
Oct.
Behold, already is the people hush'd:
All tumult ceases; and a silence reigns,
As fall the shades of night, like that of death.
Here I'm commanded to expect my fate:
So Nero will'd.—While I thus weep alone,
What is he doing? In disgraceful revels
Is he already ushering in the night?
Feels he in safety then? So quickly? Fully? ...
And lives he in security! But, prompt
To fear, and prompt to banish fear, he yields
No credit to a distant danger: Ah!
May such an error not to him prove fatal!—
Now midst the obscene, and inebriate revels
Of an intemperate table, he prepares,
There is no doubt, an agonizing death
For me. Thus did I see my brother slain
Amid nocturnal orgies; character'd,
In bloody symbols, at the nightly banquet,
Was Agrippina's fate: the trembling limbs
Of all his family, are now become
The holocaust most savoury to his sense;
The sacrificial requisite to illustrate,
And give a poignance to his festal triumphs.
But the time passes; and no one approaches ...
And I know nothing ... can e'en Seneca
With all the rest abandon me? Perchance
He breathes no more ... Oh heaven! ... and he alone
Pitied my sufferings ... Nero perhaps on him
Has wreak'd his fury ... But, oh joy! He comes.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Octavia, Seneca.
Oct.
Oh joy! art thou then living, Seneca?
Oh come, my more than father ... What is this?
Thou wear'st a less dejected countenance:
What tidings dost thou bring me?

Sen.
Unaspersed,
Enjoy eternally thy innocence.
Thy unexampled goodness with its warmth
Has touch'd the obduracy of servile hearts,
Inflaming them to virtue. 'Mid the pangs
Of the most cruel martyrdom, thy maidens,
All, with one voice, the invented crime denied.
Distinguish'd by her firmness from the rest,
Marcia, with masculine and free-born aspect,
(Enough to make us trembling slaves ashamed)
Fixing on Nero her undaunted looks,
Now Tigellinus, and now Nero, she,
With a loud voice, alternately proclaim'd
Impious impostors: rapt with generous rage
Triumphantly she chaunted solemn hymns,
Commemorative of Octavia's virtue,
'Mid torments seemed incapable of pain,
And thus heroically breathed her last.

Oct.
Ah victim, worthy of a better fate! ...
But what boots this? To redeem mine, what blood
Can now suffice?

Sen.
More difficult than ever
Will Nero find it now to spill that blood.
Thou hast gain'd fame and honour, where the tyrant
Hoped to draw on thee infamy and death.
Even Eucerus his approaching fate
With benedictions hail'd. Now horrid oaths,
By which his spirit to the infernal gods
He consecrates; now free ferocious words,
He utters, which attest thy innocence;
And now he swears that ropes, and swords, and axes,
To him are far more welcome, than the gold
Which, as the price of calumny, was proffer'd.
To every man around him he revealed
The ineffectual bribes of Tigellinus:
The very executioners themselves,
Smitten with unaccustomed horror, listened,
And e'en in spite of their ferocious office
Kept him at bay, and dallied with his death.
These grateful tidings to impart to thee
Swiftly I came.

Oct.
See, who approaches now:
See him, and hope.

Sen.
Oh heaven!

SCENE THE THIRD.

Tigellinus, Octavia, Seneca.
Ti.
The emperor
Sends me to thee.

Oct.
Ah! bringest thou my death?
Now that my innocence is proved, 'twill be
To me acceptable.

Ti.
Thy emperor yet
Holds thee not guiltless; and to make thee so,
'Twas not enough to fortify with poison,
Eucerus, and thy accessory handmaids,
And baffle thus the instruments of torture.
Thou hast exempted them from pangs, 'tis true,
But thou hast taken from thyself the means
Of exculpation.

Oct.
What new subterfuge? ...

Ti.
Nero now interdicts, that trespasses
Not clearly proved should be alleged against thee.
Another now, another accusation,
Far different to the former one, awaits thee;
And this delinquent, not constrain'd by torture,
But free, unquestion'd, comes to ask for mercy.

Oct.
And what delinquent? Tell me.

Ti.
Anicetus.

Sen.
The executioner of Agrippina!

Oct.
What do I hear?

Ti.
The same that Nero saved
From imminent danger: to his emperor then
Faithful he stood; thou, lady, afterwards
Mad'st him a traitor. He, repentant, now,
Flies on thy steps; first he himself accuses,
And all discovers: but not less for this
His punishment awaits him.

Oct.
What imposture! ...

Ti.
Perhaps, then, he did not promise that the troops,
Of which he is the leader in Misenus,
Should, at thy wish, rebel?—And, on what terms,
Ought I to tell thee?

Oct.
Oh, forlorn of hope!
What do I hear? Oh execrable race!
Oh times! ...

Ti.
On thee does Nero now impose,
To clear thyself at once of shameful intrigues,
Of instigating leaders to rebel,
Of disaffected words, of stratagems
So often, yet so fruitlessly, contrived
Against Poppœa; and of popular tumults;
Or he insists that thou confess thy guilt:
And for this purpose he allows to thee
This coming day.

Oct.
... Too much he gives to me.—
Go thou, return to him: beg him that he
Here with Poppœa come. I would alone
To them disburthen my so many crimes:
I ask no more: So much obtain for me;
Go. Let Poppœa come exultingly
In my disgrace to triumph; I expect her.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Octavia, Seneca.
Sen.
What wouldst thou do?

Oct.
Expire before their eyes.

Sen.
What dost thou say? ... Alas if thou dost wish it,
He will forbid thy death.

Oct.
And would I ask
Such an inestimable gift from Nero?—
From others I demand it; and I hope ...

Sen.
Nero was once well known to me; but yet,
I must confess, that now I am o'erwhelm'd
With blank astonishment. Each moment he,
Passing all thought of other men, becomes
More terrible.

Oct.
For a most lofty purpose,
I in my secret thought have chosen thee,
Oh Seneca. Thou mayest prove to me,
If love, esteem, or pity in thy breast
Thou bear'st for me, to-day. To me wert thou
Of incorruptible and spotless virtue
The inculcator; thou art call'd upon
To be to me this day the minister
Of necessary death.

Sen.
What do I hear? ...
Oh heaven! ... A voluntary death should be
The offspring of involuntary impulse.

Oct.
Am I so sunken then in thy esteem,
That thou accountest me incapable
Of an immutable arbitrement?
Now, is not death of all the menaced evils,
Perhaps the least? What else remains for me?
Speak.—Thou art silent?

Sen.
Oh disastrous day!

Oct.
Speak; speak—What else remains for me to do?

Sen.
My heart thou rendest ... But can I e'er be
Cruel to such a pitch?

Oct.
Shall wisdom now
In thee be so fallacious? Canst thou be
So cruel as to see me dragged the victim
Of my ferocious rival, who esteems
My death an insufficient sacrifice
Not join'd with infamy? Hast thou the heart
To see Octavia again exposed
To the indecent and extorted charges
Of every ribald sycophant? To see her
Deliver'd over to the insatiable,
And frantic rage of Nero?

Sen.
Why have I
Lived to see this? ... Oh inauspicious day!

Oct.
But what now stops thee? ... And what fearest thou?
Perhaps thou hast yet a hope?

Sen.
Who knows?

Oct.
Thou, less
Than any other, hopest: thou dost know
Nero too well: thou for thyself hast fix'd
(And certainly wouldst not to me deny it)
To escape from him by voluntary death.
Thou firm in this, herein dost thou deem me
Inferior to thyself; and lovest me?
Nero is dreadful to me while I see
This wretched and tormented frame of mine,
The dwelling of my soul. He may subject it
To all that's exquisite in pain and sorrow.
And should I yield to menaces and torments?
And if from fear there should escape my lips
Of not committed, nor imagined faults,
A forced confession? ... For a length of time
Accustomed to behold death near at hand,
Thou art secure: not thus am I; in age
Yet immature, and in my heart unbraced;
Nursed in the lap of delicate indulgence;
Ne'er school'd by nature to the natural virtues;
And 'gainst a premature, and cruel death
Armed feebly, and imperfectly: by thee,
If so thou wilt, I may escape from life;
But have not constancy to wait for death.

Sen.
Oh wretched me! with my declining years
I hoped to rescue thine. 'Twas my design
That from my lips the people should have heard
The hidden, wicked, horrid arts of Nero; ...
But I have lived in vain: all Rome is hushed;
And only listens to its wretched fears.
To me the egress from this fatal place
Is now forbidden ... Oh heaven! who can prevail,
Himself not impious, 'gainst an impious master!

Oct.
Thou weepest? ... Me from infamy and pangs
Ah save! ... From death, thou seest 'tis in vain
To expect it. Save me, pity bids thee ...

Sen.
Though
I e'en were willing ... Now ... in such short space? ...
I have no sword with me; and instantly
Comes Nero ...

Oct.
Poison thou hast always with thee:
In these opprobrious thresholds, of the just
The sole resource.

Sen.
I, ... with me? ...

Oct.
Yes; thyself
Toldest me this in former times: ah then
Like a fond father to a daughter, thou
To me revealed'st the most secret thoughts
Of thy afflicted soul. Remember, ah!
I also wept with thee at thy recital.—
But, wouldest thou deny it? I already
Am risen above myself. Necessity
Makes e'en the weakest valiant. Instantly
Comes Nero; at his side he always wears
A dagger: I will spring towards it, and grasp it,
And with it pierce myself ... My hand perchance
May lack address; yet I will make the attempt.
Of having sought to murder him, at once
I shall be charged by Nero: and thou wilt see me
Doom'd to a death of unexampled suffering.

Sen.
Ah, spare me, lady: this is worse than death! ...
Thou would'st by me obtain it ... thou'rt mistaken ...
I have no poison with me ...

Oct.
Dost not thou
Wear on thy finger still a faithful ring?
Behold it; I will have it ...

Sen.
Ah! desist ...

Oct.
In vain ... I grasp it. And I know its use:
Its contents yield a swift and painless death.

Sen.
I call the heavens to witness ... I conjure thee, ...
Restore it to me ... If another way ...

Oct.
No other way remains. Behold it opened ...
I have already with my breath absorbed
The dust mortiferous ...

Sen.
Woe, woe is me!

Oct.
May heaven reward thee for the precious gift,
To me so opportune ... See, Nero comes ...
Ah hasten ... death ... to set my spirit ... free.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Nero, Poppæa, Tigellinus, Octavia, Seneca.
Ne.
Thou fatal cause of all that I endure!
Who from my hands can rescue thee at last?
Who now shouts for thee? Where is all the people?—
Thou hast well chosen: 'tis thy last resource
To manifest thyself, and so to publish
To Rome and all the world thy countless crimes;
To clear me to my people, and receive
What thou deservest, death with infamy.

Sen.
The moment was well chosen; I repent
No more.

Oct.
Already art thou fully cleared,
Oh Nero; triumph.—That I e'er was thine,
And that I ever loved thee, I have given
Myself already the due punishment.

Ne.
The punishment? What hast thou done?

Oct.
My veins
Already have imbibed a mortal poison.

Ne.
And whence? ...

Pop.
Oh, Nero, now thou'rt mine indeed.

Ne.
The poison whence? ... 'Tis false.

Ti.
Thou oughtest not
To trust her words; a vigilant guard ...

Sen.
A guard
May be deluded; thus with thine it fared.
The gods refuse not, to the just, deliverance.

Oct.
Poison will soon destroy me; thou wilt see it:
Behold, who in compassion gave it to me;
Rather, to say the truth, I snatch'd it from him.
He will exult in it, if thou for this
Should'st punish him; thence I conceal it not.
See, my salvation in this jewel lay.
Thou, on the day of our disastrous nuptials,
Shouldest have given me a gem like this.

Ne.
I see it; yes, this is the last, this is
The plot the most atrocious, to make me
The abhorrence of all Rome. Ah miscreant, thou
Contrivedst it, but soon ...

Pop.
Thou hast escaped,
Octavia, from thy punishment; in vain
Thou hopest to escape from infamy.

Oct.
Shall I reply to thee?—To my last words
Do thou, oh Nero, listen. I now touch,
Believe me, on that awful crisis touch,
When mortal fears and hopes alike subside,
When simulation can no more avail,
E'en had I ever practised it ... I die:
And Seneca destroys me not: ... thou only,
Thou slayest me, oh Nero: though not giv'n
By thee, the poison whence I die is thine.—
I charge thee not with this as with a crime.
Sooner thou should'st have done this; from the moment
In which I first became displeasing to thee,
'Twere far less cruel then in thee to slay me,
Than to bestow thyself upon a lady,
Who, willing it, ne'er could know how to love thee.
But all I pardon thee; and pardon thou
(My only crime) if I from thee have wrested,
By hastening thus my death a few brief hours,
The pleasure of unlimited revenge.—
All, Nero, all I willingly had giv'n thee
Except my honour; and for thee had suffered
All mortal pangs save that of infamy ...
I hope no injury will result to thee ...
From ... my ... decease. The throne is thine; enjoy it:
May peace be thine ... Round thy ensanguined bed ...
I swear to thee ... to never ... never ... come ...
A mournful spectre ... to disturb ... thy ... dreams ...
Meanwhile one day thou wilt know her.—

Ne.
The more
I know her, more I love her; and I swear
Always to love her more.

Sen.
These words inflict
The last shock on her heart: she dies ...

Pop.
Oh come,
Let us now quit these horrible apartments.

Ne.
Yes, let us go: and let the camp and Rome
Know that I slew her not: and also know
The crime and punishment of Seneca.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Seneca.
Sen.
I will forestall thee.—Future times shall know,
Exempt from fear and flattery, the truth.