_Pet._ Well, sparrow, Or like an owl, that makes his day of night, And when men stir hies to his barn; so I: And by this trick of time shut myself off From half the curse of life. You little think What charm the witching night hath for her lovers: How her solemnity doth deepen thought, And bring again the lost hellenic Muse To sing from heaven: or on moonlit swards Of fancy shadows in transfigured scene The history of man.—Thus, like a god, I dwell; and take the early morning cries 1400 For calls to sleep; and from divinity Fall to forgetfulness, while bustling day Ravages life; and know no more of it,— Your riot and din, the plots and crimes of Rome,— Than doth a diver in Arabian seas, Plunging for pearls beneath the lonely blue: But o’er my slumbering head soft airs of dreamland Rock their wild honey-blooms, till the shy stars Once more are venturing forth, and I awake. Is not that something? _Pis._ Ha, ha! Well, good-night! I mean good-morning. Yet ere we depart I’ll take each by the hand,—you, sir, and you,— And let it be an earnest of my favour In time to come: I shall remember all. Consult meanwhile with Rufus: I shall see him, And shall myself make ready. _Pet._ The slaves, my lord, Are sent away: I’ll show you to the street: Come: you shall see me undo the doors, and say I care well for my safety. Pray keep silence. [_Exeunt._ SCENE ·• 3 _The next morning: a room in Lucan’s house._ _Enter a Servant._ _SERVANT._ Scarce an hour after sunrise, and two ladies for my master already. This it is to be a poet. One gives no name; the other is Thrasea’s daughter, Priscus’ young wife. I am to take her first: though the other looks the more pressing. (_Goes to side, and returns ushering Fannia._) If my lady will kindly wait here a moment. _FANNIA._ Is your master not up? _Serv._ He was late last night, my lady; and is now breakfasting. _Fan._ Will he not see me? 1430 _Serv._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._ _Fan._ It is then as we feared: Lucan was there. He is one of the conspiracy of Piso, And he was at Petronius’ house last night: I come too late. _Enter Lucan, hurriedly._ LUCAN. Fannia, good-morning! _Fan._ Good-morning, cousin! _Luc._ What brings you here so early? _Fan._ Ah! if I am not too late! My husband sent me To save thy life. _Luc._ (_excitedly_). What’s this? _Fan._ These were his words, ‘Bid him, by all we love and hold in common, Withdraw from the conspiracy.’