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
The seasons, lady, 720
Of divination are determinate
By stars and special omens: ’tis our skill
To observe their presage. The hour is favourable.
Thy dream ...
_Pop._ Is’t good?
_Sel._ Beyond thy hope.
_Pop._ Then tell it.
_Sel._ Two thousand sesterces....
_Pop._ I have it here.
See! I was ready for thee. [_Gives him a purse._
_Sel._ I thank thee, lady.
_Pop._ Now for thy message.
_Sel._ I have sought out thy dream
By every means our art....
_Pop._ Mind not the means.
_Sel._ There is one interpretation clear throughout....
_Pop._ And that? 730
_Sel._ Thou shalt be wife unto two Cæsars.
_Pop._ Two! Now be Isis praised. Two! O, Seleucus,
Thou’rt an astrologer. Two! this is life,
Seleucus; this is life as well as fortune.
What are the names?
_Sel._ There ends my message, lady.
_Pop._ ’Tis good so far, but stays unkindly. Search,
I must know more. Above all things, the affair
Is secret. (_Knocking heard._) I will send my servant to thee.
Thou must be gone: our business will not suffer
My husband stumbling on thee here. This way.
[_Exit Seleucus, being put out._
My dream was true: my hopes and schemes inspired
Of heaven; yet this is far beyond them all. 741
Wife to two Cæsars; maybe, mother of Cæsars.
[_Noise at door._
To sit upon their rare, successive thrones,
A manifold Augusta! Here’s my husband.
What would he say? Two Cæsars, ay, two Cæsars!
[_Laughing heard without._
_Enter Otho._
_OTHO._
Good evening, love.
_Pop._ Who laughed with thee without?
_Oth._ Lucan. He walked with me from Cæsar’s supper.
_Pop._ Was Cæsar riotous?
_Oth._ Beyond all bounds.
_Pop._ See what you husbands are. You go abroad
For pleasure, and when met among yourselves 750
Push all to excess, and never think how patiently
Your wives must mope at home, and wait your coming.
And when you do return, up to the door
You bring your merriment; but at the door
’Tis left, and in you come, in solemn glumness,
To vent the sour reaction of your revels
Upon your housekeeper.
_Oth._ Enough, Poppæa;
I would be cheered.
_Pop._ Then I will cheer thee, love.
But what’s the matter?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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