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
_Dom._ O, there’s no doubt.
_Ner._ My mother is very deep, and often looks
Far from her meaning. She will use this way
To worm a confidence. 850
_Dom._ She did not then.
Ner. Yet must the boy have thought so, for you said
That what she urged he took not all in kindness.
_Dom._ He bade her speak with Burrus.
_Ner._ The villainous brat!
_Dom._ Drive not the fault on him. Did Burrus waver,
Nothing could save thee. And it seems thy mother
Had hope to win him. She comes; now be thou firm.
I will be gone. _[Exit._
_Ner._ (_solus_). Now she cannot deceive me.
_Enter Agrippina._
_Agr._ My son, thy mother comes at thy command.
_Ner._ O excellent mother!
_Agr._ What would’st thou with me, son?
I come to hear, and yet I scarce am fit 860
For banter or abuse. I am ill to-day.
_Ner._ No wonder; ’tis you do too much. ’Twere better
You spared yourself. Go rest; my business
Will not cure headaches.
_Agr._ Speak whate’er it be.
_Ner._ Nay, if you’re ill—
_Agr._ My sickness will not pass.
To-morrow I shall leave thee; that last grief
Will soon engulph the rest: speak while thou may’st.
_Ner._ What’s this! leave me to-morrow?
_Agr._ I would spare thee
That worst disgrace of sending me away.
I go of myself. 870
_Ner._ What now?
_Agr._ ’Tis well resolved.
I have been foolish; ’twas a mother’s fault,
A tender fault: forget it, and hereafter
Know my love better. If my presence bred
Dislike, thy kinder mind may yet return
When I am gone.
_Ner._ Why, what has happed, I pray?
_Agr._ Nothing. I have only come to see my error.
I thought, ’twas I that gave him all....
_Ner._ Tut! tut!
’Tis the old story told a thousand times.
_Agr._ Ay, and forgot as oft. Thy constant wrongs,
I think, have dug my grave. Dost thou remember
What answer once I made the sorcerer 881
Who prophesied thy fortune? Thy son, he said,
Shall reign, and kill his mother. Let him kill me,
So that he reign, I cried. He spake the truth,
But ’tis by grief thou slay’st me.
_Ner._ That old rubbish
Were best forgotten.
_Agr._ Indeed, I had forgot it:
But yesternight I dreamed it all again;
A frightful dream: plain as I see thee now
Stood’st thou before me thus, with angry words
[_She acts._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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