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._ Think! do I think? I cannot speak of it.
If ’tis suspicion, be it so—and yet...
Well, thou hast seen my heart—even were my sister
Kind I should not forgive: but seeing she works
Against me still to drive me from the court,
I put my strength with Cæsar, to disbarrass
The palace of this plague. Say wilt thou aid me? 1180
_Par._ The favour Cæsar shows me binds me, lady,
To have no thought but his; and if his mother
Misses his love, ’tis not made up by mine.
_Dom._ I’d have thee on my side whate’er I do.
I have now contrived a scheme which hangs on thee
To bring it home.
_Par._ I will do anything
That will not touch my life.
_Dom._ She is hard to catch.
Late, when she plotted with Britannicus,
Though ’twas as clear as day, when brought to question
She quite out-faced us all.
_Enter Servant._
_SERVANT._
Madam, Seleucus 1190
The astrologer would speak with you.
_Dom._ Admit him. [_Exit Servt._
Paris, I’ll tell thee later of my plans.
Meanwhile keep close with Nero: let me hear
Aught he lets fall that might advance our matter:
Seleucus’ visit is a part of it;
I’ll speak with him alone.
_Par._ Madam, I go. [_Exit._
_Enter Seleucus._
_Dom._ How now, Seleucus? Foiled!
_SELEUCUS._
I warned you, lady,
How impotent and vain an arm hath truth
Unhelped by art.
_Dom._ Thou did’st but well, and now
I shall lean more on thee. Hast thou persuaded 1200
Poppæa of her fortune?
_Sel._ Ay, my lady,
I promised her two Cæsars.
_Dom._ Two! how two?
_Sel._ A secret that of art; our divination
Hath many such. The gods are favourable.
_Dom._ Talk not to me of gods. One was enough;
Yet the other matters not. Two Cæsars indeed!
Most favourable gods!—See, here I give you
Two hundred sesterces: but for that sum
Require another service.
_Sel._ I thank you, madam.
_Dom._ Locusta hath been seen with Nero.
_Sel._ Ah, 1210
How knew you that?
_Dom._ Attend to what I say.
I fear ’tis for Britannicus: the Empress,
Ridding herself, cannot have quitted him.
If ’tis his death is aimed at—and ’tis for thee
To probe and reach the truth—then if ’tis possible
Thou must prevent it. Go, give him a message,
He must not sup with Cæsar if he is bid.
Find you the probabilities, and lay
The warning where is need.
_Sel._ ’Twere a good office, lady.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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