_Br._ Most like; I know the turbaned mountebank Keeps an old kindness for me. Yet nay, nay— 1500 If this should now be found—nay, he’s too shrewd To put himself in writing. _Oct._ He might dare With Fulvia. _Br._ Nay. I cannot think ’tis his. And were it, what’s his credit? I do not trust These fellows far. They trade in mystery, And love to thicken water,—and if there be A plot to poison me, to-day’s occasion Offers no easier vantage than to-morrow’s. My safety lies elsewhere. _Oct._ O do not go. _Br._ Fear not, Octavia, I am very careful, 1510 And eat but sparingly of any dish, Nor aught but what goes round. To stay away Might show suspicion, and could serve no end. _Oct._ Brother, be warned, go not to-night; to-morrow We may learn more. I beg... _Br._ Nay, urge me not, Since with this warning I am doubly safe. _Oct._ Oh, I dread Nero’s anger; ’tis most certain That ill will come of it. _Br._ Nay, fear him not. Let us go sup. I will use all precaution, 1519 Thou may’st be sure, since for thy sake I do it: And while thou livest I shall have both reason And wish to live. Have care, too, for thyself; I think thy peril is no less than mine. [_Exeunt._ SCENE · 5 _Supper-room in the Palace. All are reclined at two tables, thus_: _Agrippina_, _Nero_, _Poppæa_.| _A gentm._, _Octavia_, _A lady_. _Tigellinus_, _A gentm._ | _Britannicus_, _Paris_. _A lady_, _Domitia._ | _Petronius_, _Lucan._ | _Waiters, tasters, etc. Some are talking._ _NERO._ I will propose a question to the table: Which of the arts is greatest? Lucan, these sausages Are something new: try them. _POPPÆA._ You question, Cæsar, Which of the arts is greatest? I would answer The one which Cæsar honours. _TIGELLINUS._ But if Cæsar Should honour more than one? _PETRONIUS._ The sausages 1529 Are good enough. As for the arts, here’s Lucan Can speak for poetry. _Ner._ If any man Could prove one art beyond contention first, I would reward him excellently. With me To know the best and follow it are one: Success being easy in all, my difficulty Lies in distraction: show me then the best, I’ll perfect that. _Pop._ What! Cæsar give up singing? _Ner._ For better things. _Tig._ Which be the arts? _Petr._ (_to servants_). Here, vermin, This wine’s half-way to vinegar.