Paris.

The house of Rufus, Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace.

Ner. Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar, And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that, Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes. Is not this more than justice?

Par. Ay, ’tis power.

Ner. Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit, To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last night Sang I divinely? Wert thou envious When I put on the lion’s skin, and did The choice of Hercules?

Par. Most mighty Cæsar, I wished that I had asses ears to hear; Mine are not long enough.

Ner. Plague on thy jesting. See static virtue stalks with folded arm To set thee down. [Thrasea comes forward.

Thr. Hail, Cæsar!

Ner. Thy opinion, Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou think If I extend my palace to take in The hill whereon we stand?

Thr. The plan no doubt Is worthy of the site, and for the site, Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome.

Ner. Well said. Stay. I would ask my fellow senator Wherefore he left the house three days ago Without his voice or vote.

Thr. I judged the time Unmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senate Was of one mind: a vote was of no count.

Ner. Thou show’dst a sense against us in not voting.

Thr. That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.

Ner. Well, I would have thee speak. We are not full Without thy voice: nay more, such conduct makes The senate but a name; for times have been When silence was well justified by fear. Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill On those that grudge their approbation.

Thr. Cæsar commands my service and my praise; I shall not lack.

Ner. We look for much from thee.

Thr. Long live your majesty. [Exit.

Ner. There’s something good In that man, Otho; spite of his dry mien And Stoic fashion.

Oth. Nay, I like him not. He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old Seneca Is stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him, You find he yields, shows softness here and there. This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule.

Ner. Do you despise divine philosophy?

Oth. Well, as I take it, all philosophy Is questionable guessing, but the sense A man grows up with bears the stamp of nature.

Ner. How mean you that?

Oth. At best this fine-spun system Is but a part of man’s experience Drawn out to contradiction of the rest. ’Tis a fool’s wisdom.

Luc. ’Tis a form of pleasure.

Oth. True. Though there be no theory of life That’s worth a button, yet the search for one Seems to content some men better than life.

Ner. Call him not fool, Otho!

Oth. Unless I wrong him, I speak as well of him as he of me. Or if he say nothing, his guarded manner Covers, be sure, a more unkind contempt.

Par. (apeing Thr.). That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate.

Tig. Ha! ha! Excellent!

Ner. Paris would make a senator.

Oth. Well, give me life.

Ner. Ay, that is wisdom. Live. Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-night I have time well disposed: we sup with Actè; She will inaugurate the new pavilion, And after, there are masks and clubs provided. Thou’lt join us, eh!

Oth. With all my heart.

Ner. (to Tig. and Luc.). And you. And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes, And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now.

[Exit Paris.

Good news for them I think; pleasure in store. We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho, You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a woman Fit to compare with Actè?

Oth. I say no.

Ner. I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised, Who knew no better; I mean the perfect art Which makes each moment feverous.

Oth. I know none.

Ner. ’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envy Grudged me the word.

Oth. Nay, Cæsar.

Ner. O, I know Thou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee.

Oth. Say, my good fortune, Cæsar.

Ner. Now if thy boast Be true as it is rare, thy lady’s presence Would add much spirit to our gaieties. I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-night Thou bring her.

Oth. In this thing, for friendship’s sake, Hold me excused.

Ner. Nay, no constraint; thy wish Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have, And least to thee, my pleasures a command; But my commands are pleasures. Let us go.

[Exeunt.