_Agr._ True; but ’twas never mine; I made escape. They that would lock us up in idleness, Shut us from all affairs, treat us as dolls 2250 Appointed for their pleasure; these but make it The easier for a woman with a will To have her way. Life lacks machinery To thwart us. Had I been a man, methinks I had done as well, but never with the means I have used. Nay, nay, ’tis easy for a woman, Be she but quick and brave, to have her will. _Enter Servant, who speaks to Fulvia, and she to Agrippina._ Burrus and Seneca you say! Admit them. Fulvia, here’s one apiece: make your own choice; I’ve none, and can be generous. Pray come in. 2260 _Enter Burrus and Seneca with two others._ Come in, my lords, come in. You are very welcome. Look, Fulvia, now if Mercury have not heard Our prayers and sent us noble visitors! Pray you be seated. Alas, in this poor house I fear I cannot show you the reception You and your gallant followers deserve. ’Tis not what thou’rt accustomed to at home, Seneca, I know: pardon it. Thou lookest cold. Come near the fire: pray heaven this bitter weather May not have touched thy chest. A Gallic winter! I can remember no such fall of snow 2271 In March these twenty years; but looking back, I find one noted in my journal then. How goes your health, my lords? _SENECA._ Well, thank you, madam. _Agr._ I am very glad: your visit is well meant; It cheers me much. _BURRUS._ The truth is, madam, we come At Nero’s order. _Agr._ Ha! then I strike you off [_Rising._ My list of friends again. I thought as much; I wondered how you dared me this affront In my last poor retreat, here where I sit 2280 Alone and friendless, in the worst disgrace Woman can suffer;—ay, and caused by you. But learn that, if nought else, this house is mine; If ’tis so small that it can welcome little, It can exclude the more. At Cæsar’s order Ye have forgot your manners, now at mine Resume them. Ye have done his hest, begone! Begone! _Sen._ I pray you, madam, hear the message; We may not leave without delivering it. Burrus will speak it. _Agr._ Oh—Burrus speak it. 2290 If Burrus speak, the affair is mighty black. There’s none like him to break an ugly business. [_Sitting._ Hey! Well, we have nought to do, so let us hear The last of the court. Octavia’s divorce? _Sen._ Believe me, lady, I feel much aggrieved In all that hurts you here. _Agr._ Stranger than fiction. Now what’s the matter?