Mocking, until I wept for shame; but thou 890 Did’st only laugh the more. Then ran I to thee, And bared my breast, and cried, Kill me, O son! And thou fastened’st thy snaky eyes upon me, So that I could not see what thy hand did. But, oh! I knew. I heard thy weapon grate Leaving the scabbard, and a fiery pang Pierced through my heart. Ah! _Ner._ (_aside_). Heavens, is she mad?— Mother, good mother, mother! 899 _Agr._ ’Twas nothing. Nay, where am I? I was come To hear thy speech. What is’t thou hast to say? _Ner._ (_aside_). If this were trickery? Let the fact try.— ’Twas this: what speech you held the other morning With young Britannicus. _Agr._ (_aside_). Ah! knows he that?— Thy spies are most alert. This time, at least, I praise their zeal: though thou art slow to thank me For my kind service done to thee and him. _Ner._ Whether is it kinder, say you, to him to urge him To embrace the desperate plot, of which already He stood suspected, or more kind to me 910 To water this rebellion with the tears Of your insidious passion? _Agr._ Your man’s a fool: I heard Your quarrel, and took pains to sound the boy. _Ner._ Next you saw Burrus. _Agr._ Well, and what said he? _Ner._ Nay, that’s for you to tell. _Agr._ ’Twas this: Britannicus Most truly said that nought could help his claim, Except the guards and Burrus: at which word I flew to Burrus, offered him the bait; And when he showed the scruple of his oath, Three words from me confirmed him. 920 _Ner._ If this were true! _Agr._ How much you need me, Nero, will be plain When I am gone. Who has deceived you now? Who works this madness in you, to conceive That your disaster could be gain to me? Have you believed what angry words I spoke Were born of purpose, that my threats against you Were aught but passion? You count not the tears, The bitter, secret tears, for every pang Your wrongs have wrought in me; and bitterer far, The sharp remorse for each retaliation 930 Of speech provoked in anger. Let it end; ’Tis best I go. _Ner._ See! if you had gone before We had never quarrelled; now there’s nought to lose By going, ’tis a quarrel that you go. _Agr._ No quarrel, nay. ’Tis only this: I thought That in your love I held perpetual office. ’Tis not so. Now my time is out: I go As Pallas goes. _Ner._ The sleek, extortionate Pallas, Dost thou defend the despicable Pallas?