_Br._ Nay, think not so. There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it. What are my private wrongs to Rome? If Cæsar Stablish the empire, where’s the citizen Will take exception that he hath wronged his brother? Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rights 370 To theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar. _Agr._ O could’st thou see this offer as thy last And only safety thou would’st not refuse me. _Br._ I rather hope to be forgiven the thing I never thought, than win by doing it. _Agr._ Thou wilt not join with me? _Br._ There’s nought to join, Save to thy will to right me I might join A hope of justice, to vain will vain hope. _Agr._ Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot long Be Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar, She might be matched with any excellence. 381 Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word. _Br._ Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt true There is a way. This matter’s full presentment Hath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thought And held no purpose in it; there’s one way: Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speak With Burrus, he is plain and honourable, And if he think there’s gain in the exchange, And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name, 390 The sense of right, the promise of a largess, Will win them to a man. The senate follows: In a day, an hour, without a drop of blood My wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus? _Agr._ I dare not. _Br._ Then do nothing. Or if thou canst, Assure thy son that from my helpless state And suffering spirit he has nought to fear. _Agr._ Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult, I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke, But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much. [_Exit._ _Br._ Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder 401 Falls on itself: that in the guilty breast The implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tusk The bleeding strings of nature: and in this woman Of no remorse hath fated vengeance stirred Her heart to hate her son. O, I did wrong Yielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me, That he should rule my fate is my best safety. For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.— These days have brought much change and food for fear. 410 ACT · II SCENE · I _A room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS._ _SENECA._ The Armenian papers came through me last evening; I sent them on at once. _BURRUS (refusing a seat)._ Nay, thank ye, Seneca: I have been two hours in the saddle.