 | Octavia |  |
SCENE THE SECOND.
Nero.Ne.
Thee and thy pomp of simulated virtues,
Proud stoic, I will quell. Till now with gifts
I have contrived to punish thee: I keep
The axe to fall upon thy abject neck
When to the very refuse of the people
I've render'd thee contemptible. What now
Is this my absolute tremendous power,
If on all quarters it is thwarted thus
With fresh impediments? I hate Octavia;
Poppæa I adore beyond all words;
And shall I stoop, I, to dissimulate
Aversion and regard? That privilege
Which to my vilest slaves the law forbids not,
Shall the envious whispers of the multitude
Attempt to-day to interdict to Nero?
| Octavia | |