Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3Bridges, Robert
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Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Sel._ To win thy help.
_Dom._ To what?
_Sel._ To save the prince.
_Dom._ If thou’rt in earnest,
Where is thy confidence? Assure me first,
At least, of what thou say’st. Whence know’st thou this? 680
_Sel._ Fulvia, thy sister’s maid, rewards my love
With many trifles: what she overhears
I piece together.
_Dom._ What of this was heard,
And how much pieced?
_Sel._ The Augusta sent all out,
And spake long time in private with the prince.
What passed I guess from this; that ere she left,
Being risen to go, as Fulvia at the door
Stood just without, she heard her voice most plainly
Angrily entreating, saying, that though he doubted,
Yet she would still with him regain her power: 690
If he held off yet he so far was right,
As that ’twas best to speak with Burrus first.
_Dom._ And has she since seen Burrus?
_Sel._ I think she hath.
He lately came from Seneca’s, and there
The Augusta must have met with him.
_Dom._ What passed?
_Sel._ I know not yet. Fulvia will know and tell me.
_Dom._ But can’st thou trust her?
_Sel._ Ay, she hath no purpose.
Whate’er she hears is mine.
_Dom._ Then make this thine.
Her tampering with Britannicus is nought:
But if she speak with Burrus, there is matter 700
That I can work on. Ay, if that should be—
Make sure of that, and bring me word at once.
To-night thou hast thy business; go and do it.
Poppæa marries Cæsar.
_Sel._ Madam, I go. [_Exit._
_Dom._ Now, my good sister, if this tale is true,
Thy fortune turns: I trample on thee now.
Ay, if she have spoke with Burrus, then one word
To Nero, and she is doomed. Patience and time
Bring us all opportunities: we need
But watch and wait. The way I least expected 710
She runs within the reach of my revenge. [_Exit._
SCENE · 3
_Room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA._
_POPPÆA._
My dream was strange: but why of all strange dreams
Stands forth this dream, to say it hath a meaning?
There lies the mystery: the dream were nothing.
’Tis such a dream as I have prayed to dream.
’Tis such a dream as an astrologer
Must love to interpret. Nay, there’s but one way
Seleucus can explain it.
_Enter Seleucus._
I looked for thee
An hour ago: thou’rt late.
_SELEUCUS._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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