_Agr._ Thou goest! Then go, thou wooden counterfeit. Nay, I’ll be with thee yet. (_Exit Bur._) Pooh! let him go, An ugly, one-armed, upstart, sneaking knave: 630 A title seeker, a subservient villain. And thou, Philosopher! come, teach me thy philosophy. Tell me how I may be a dauntless Stoic And a most pitiful ass. Show me thy method Of magnanimity and self-denial, Which makes of slaves the richest men in Rome. Philosopher! Ay, thou that teachest youth Dishonesty, and coinest honied speeches To gloss iniquity, sand without lime. 640 Out, out upon thee! Thou miserable, painful, hackney-themed Botcher of tragedies, that deem’st thyself A new Euripides, a second Cato: A pedant rather, pander and murderer. I’ll let Rome know how pumpkin Claudius died; I’ll not be ashamed to say, ’twas I that spiced His fatal mushroom. Honest Seneca Stood by and smiled. True, true! I’ll be true yet; I’ll right Britannicus. I’ll tell the soldiers 650 What they should look for. Hear’st thou not their shouts? Seneca to the Tiber! the philosopher, The murderer to the Tiber! Fulvia, Fulvia!— Fulvia, I go. Come, I will leave; lead on. [_Exit._ _Sen._ And I to train the cub of such a dam! [_Exit._ SCENE · 2 _Room in Domitia’s house. Enter DOMITIA and SELEUCUS._ _DOMITIA._ ’Tis a most shrewd surmise, but nothing more; I cannot listen to it. Though I hate My sister, and would take some risk to crush her, Yet must I set my foot on surer ground. My better engine is Poppæa’s dream, 660 Of which thou’st told me: I can build on that. Thou should’st be there, I think, to-night. _SELEUCUS._ Ay, madam. I go at once. _Dom._ Speak nothing waveringly. _Sel._ Nay, madam. _Dom._ ’Tis her fate to marry Cæsar. _Sel._ My art needs no instruction. _Dom._ It must be so. _Sel._ It is so, madam. _Dom._ See, thy prophecy Is that which should determine it. Go now. [_To door._ Her purse will satisfy thee well. _Sel._ Yet once Ere I be gone, madam, I’ll make a stand To win thy credit. 670 _Dom._ Thou must show me cause. Thou say’st the Augusta plots against her son, Supports Britannicus, tampers with Burrus. How know’st thou this? _Sel._ Why should I lie? _Dom._ I think There may be some who make it worth thy while. _Sel._ I would not meddle in this thing for money. _Dom._ Why tell me then at all?