_Pop._ Then she pretended Treason, that she might better hurt her sister: And yet can win thy trust! _Ner._ Nay, heaven forbid; I trust her not. _Pop._ She hates me. _Ner._ Nay, her kinship Is jealous for Octavia; but... _Pop._ Ah, true! 2530 To kill one’s husband, plot against one’s son, Should leave unsatisfied some tender feelings To spend upon a step-child. Why, she knows Those arts which manage you would not gull me, A woman not her child. Her whole design Is bent to thwart our marriage; and she will. I know it. _Ner._ I swear that were this proved against her, Came it to a question ’twixt herself and thee, Which to take, which to lose, then not a moment Would I delay: the blow I have often sworn 2540 To strike should fall. _Enter Messenger._ _MESSENGER._ A letter from the Augusta. [_Exit._ _Pop._ Now, as she loves me, this is mine. _Ner._ Not so. _Pop._ Then as thou lovest me. _Ner._ Well. _Pop._ (_reading_). Ho! ho! ho! ho! Now shines the sun at noon. _Ner._ What is’t? _Pop._ I read? _Ner._ Read then. _Pop._ (_reads_). _To her dearest son. Ha! ha! ha! When last we met thou wilt remember to have confessed some shame for wrong done to me. The wrong I forgive, but eagerly seize on thy sorrow to ask of thee, in regard for thine own happiness, this only favour. ’Tis my earnest prayer and advice that thou dismiss Poppæa._ 2551 _Ner._ Ha! writes she so? _Pop._ Attend, the reasons follow. (_Reading._) _Beware of her: nor think that I grudge thee the happiness which thou now findest in her. Marriage with her can lead only to thy misery. I know her well._ Now hear my character. _Ner._ Give me the letter. _Pop._ _She is vain, deceitful, self-seeking, and, being by nature cold, hath the art to assume the mask of passion; and ’neath the show of virtue designedly conceals her wickedness and mischief. She loves thee no better than she loves Otho._ 2561 _Ner._ Give me the letter. _Pop._ Nay, one sentence more. _Believe a woman sees further than a man, since to her eyes beauty is no veil._ She grants me beauty then. [_Gives letter to Nero._ _Ner._ (_reading_). ’Tis so, ’tis so. Ye gods! and thou wert right. Poppæa, this is the end. Come not to Baiæ. Wait my return. _Pop._ What’s now to do, I pray?