Lucan.

Good day, Thrasea.

Thr. A dull morning.

Luc. Comest thou from the house?

Thr. Nay, more’s the pity. There was a distribution, as I hear, To friends of order. Say, how didst thou fare?

Luc. In many things, Thrasea, I hold not with thee, Nor will pretend that I can see in virtue A self-sufficiency invulnerable Against the crime of others. I believe The world is wronged, and burn to avenge the wrong. But, as an honest man, I take thy hand.

Thr. I looked for this, Lucan, and take thy hand. Frivolity and crime are most unworthy Of thy companionship.

Luc. My uncle’s hope Tainted my judgment. I have been blind, and wronged thee.

Thr. Where I am misconceived I blame myself.

Luc. Hear me abjure.

Thr. Spare words. There’s no more fear Thou wilt be duped. Cæsar, in slaying his brother, Has doffed the mask.

Luc. The heart of Rome must swell To put the monster down.

Thr. We have our part: But in the sorry tragedy he makes We can be but spectators. On his stage There’s nought but folly. Come thou home with me: I’ll show thee how we may regard this play, Take note of all the actors, and watch the end.

[Exeunt.