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
_Ner._ Indeed I swear
I am not moved. There was no need to blame
My supper, Burrus.
_Bur._ Nay, I blamed it not.
_Ner._ I am not sensible to wine as others. 2210
Of all I meet there’s none, no, not the best,
Can eat and drink as I. There’s something, Burrus,
In that. I think if I, who rule the world,
Could not enjoy my wine, that were a blemish
Which scorn might hit.
_Bur._ I never blamed your supper.
_Ner._ Hadst thou been there, thou would’st have praised it well.
I have learned much lately in these things. Petronius,
Ay, he’s the man—I’m blessed in this Petronius.
Thou know’st him?
_Bur._ Ay, and would not keep his hours.
’Tis late, to bed.
_Ner._ Well, Burrus, I’ll to bed. 2220
But thou must sup with me. I’d gladly have thee
One of our party. I shall tell Petronius.
_Bur._ Cæsar, good night.
_Ner._ By heaven, I had forgot;
Where did I leave Poppæa? I remember.
Good night, Burrus, good night. [_Exit._
_Bur._ Now may brave Bacchus
Reclaim the field; for me, I’ll gather up
This quenched brand, and be off. What must men think
Of Cæsar, who would fetch him with such trash?
The Augusta marry Plautus! Master Paris
For this will need his wit to save his skin. [_Exit._
SCENE · 5
_A small room in Agrippina’s house. Enter AGRIPPINA
and FULVIA._
_AGRIPPINA._
My days are weary, Fulvia. Know you not 2231
Some art to make time fly? another month
Of prison and neglect would kill me quite.
_FULVIA._
Is’t not the change more than the solitude
Vexes your majesty?
_Agr._ Nay, I was never made
For isolation, and even by my friends
I am utterly forsaken.
_Ful._ Junia Silana
Was very constant, tho’ we have not seen her
Now for four days.
_Agr._ Bah! she’s my foe. I wronged her
That way a woman ne’er forgives. ’Twas I 2240
Broke off her match with Sextius, you remember.
_Ful._ Your true friends dare not come: they stand aloof,
Watching the time to do you service, madam.
_Agr._ You speak of Pallas: there’s none else.
_Ful._ The lot
Of late befallen your majesty is such
As all our sex have borne, who have not raised
Nor much demeaned themselves beyond the rest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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