Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Ner._ Ha!
_Mess._ But by the grace of the gods
She is escaped.
_Ner._ Escaped!
_Mess._ She swam to shore unharmed.
_Ner._ Thou wretch,
And comest thou here in thy master’s place 2999
To bate mine anger? Forth and send him hither.
Fly, or I kill thee.
_Mess._ Pardon, great Cæsar, pardon.
The Admiral follows and will straight be here.
[_Runs out._
_Ner._ (_aside_). Escaped! after such boast, escaped! I am lost.—
To have done this thing had tried me; to have attempted it
And failed is ruin.
_Sen._ (_aside from Nero_). What is this?
_Bur._ (_to Sen._) ’Tis clear
Cæsar knows what: and her escape not being
His pleasure tells us that ’twas not his purpose.
_Sen._ (_aloud_). Alas, alas!
_Ner._ What friend there cries Alas?
Who now stands by me? who will aid me now?
_Tig._ If Cæsar make his will but known...
_Ner._ Thou dullard!
I need the brains of them that know my will. 3011
Now is no time for parley. Seneca,
Speak what thou thinkest.
_Sen._ Cæsar, I am so much grieved that...
_Ner._ What’s thy pain
To mine? Speak, man!
_Sen._ Alas, what shall I say?
_Ner._ How hast thou guessed this thing without a word,
And yet hast not foreseen it?
_Sen._ Oh, is’t then true?
The letter false; the Augusta hither brought
But to be drowned!
_Ner._ See if ye know it not.
_Sen._ Let her escape belie thy guilty purpose. 3020
_Ner._ Why, nay, the failure damns a thousand-fold
More than her death—I am henceforth the man
Who would have killed his mother, and could not.
_Sen._ Alas, alas!
_Ner._ Hast thou no word but that?
Thou that hast ever warned me, ay, and gone
So far upon this path that thou hast sought
To dull the natural feeling which so long
Held off my hand, hast argued ’gainst repugnance,
Crying, ’tis she that is the guilty one, 3029
The dangerous one, there is no peace with her:
And now the day the thing thou hast foreseen,
Ay, and hast led me to, is done, thou’rt silent.
Hast thou no word?—Thou that wast ever ready,
Hast thou no word?—What strikes thee on a sudden
Dumb? Be my counsellor now that I need thee.
Speak now! Why, thou dost weep! surely thou weepest!
Burrus, what sayest thou?
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