Britannicus.

Thou thinkest That Cæsar watches me.

Agr. To-day thy spies Are mine, but must not hear.

Br. Hast thou seen Burrus?

Agr. He is thine enemy: no hope from him.

Br. I would not have this spoken of as my hope.

Agr. True, boy. I mentioned not thy name, and Nero, Being now persuaded thou art innocent, Forgives thee. Let the risk I ran for thee Be earnest of more good.

Br. I thank thee for it.

Agr. ’Tis nothing, this. Thou yet shalt reign.

Br. I pray thee Draw me not into thy deep-plotted schemes That rush on guilt. If I have hope or wish, ’Tis but to live till the divorce be writ ’Twixt Cæsar and my sister: that is not long To wait; and then her exile, which must follow, If I may share, I think some days of peace May be in store for both. That is my hope, Not Rome, nor empire, but some tranquil spot Where innocence may dwell, and be allowed To be its own protection.

Agr. Are you that fool?

Br. I would none doubted it.

Agr. Can it be possible That thou, who in thy veins hast the best blood Of Rome, should’st own so beggarly a spirit, And being the heir of all the world should’st wish Only to hide thy claim, so thou may’st live The life which broken-hearted slaves, and men Diseased and aged scarce prize?

Br. I hear, I hear, And am not shamed.

Agr. Nay, then I have more to say.

Br. I too might say somewhat. Is it not strange, Thou being a lady, should’st possess a heart So fond of wrong, and blood, and wrathful deeds?

Agr. Ah, ah! Thou thinkest that thou know’st me rightly, And yet would’st dare to taunt me, and to thwart My stablished purpose? Child, I say, remember The deeds thou castest in my teeth, and think Whether it were not much better now at last To side with me, and take the help I proffer. I have sworn to set thee on the throne; think twice Ere thou oppose my will.

Br. Did’st thou not say Thou had’st persuaded Nero of my innocence?

Agr. Say I was wrong.

Br. Nay, thou wert right in that, Wrong now returning on disclaimed ambition.

Agr. Art thou content to see thyself deposed, Thy sister thus dishonoured....

Br. Say no more.

Agr. Consider!

Br. Nay, I’ll not consider.

Agr. Now This once again I bid thee, child, consider. Doubt not my power.

Br. No more. I will not join thee.

Agr. Then hear me, child. Whether thou join or not, Whether thou wilt be Cæsar, or refusest, Thou shalt be Cæsar. If thou wilt not plot, It shall be plotted for thee: in my hands I hold thy life, and guard it but for this, To make thee Cæsar. Ay, and if thou shrinkest When the day comes, I’ll have a doll made like thee; My men shall carry it about, and style it Britannicus, and shout to it as to Cæsar. I say thou shalt be Cæsar, think it o’er. Dare not refuse me: ’tis not yet too late; To-morrow I will speak with thee again. Now to thy better thought. [Exit.

Br. O murderess! And for this last turn must I thank my folly, That partly trusted her. Now would to heaven, If live I must, that I might change my lot With any man soe’er, though he be chosen And picked for misery. Surely there’s none In all the empire can show cause to stand And weigh his woe with mine. Find me the man, If such there be, that hath an only sister ’Spoused to a murderer and adulterer, Who hates her virtue, since it shames pretext To cast her off: or, if such man be found, Hath he for mother one that slew his father, And threats him with like death? or if all this Be matched in one, hath he no remedy? Is his speech treason? Is his silence treason? Is he quite friendless, helpless? Forbidden to budge a foot from the dread focus Of crime and anguish? ’Mongst his lesser wrongs Hath he this brag, that he hath been robbed, as I, Of the empire of the world? O happy hinds, Who toil under clear skies, and for complaint Discuss long hours, low wages, meagre food, Hard beds and scanty covering: ye who trail A pike in German swamps, or shield your heads On Asian sands, I’d welcome all your griefs So I might taste the common nameless joys Which ye light-heartedly so lightly prize, And know not what a text for happiness Lies in a thoughtless laugh: what long, impassable, Unmeasured gulfs of joy sunder it off From my heart-stifling woe.

Enter Octavia.

Thou art welcome, sister.