Paris.

But ’tis the general thought That Nero killed his brother; that his mother Had no hand in it, rather would have saved him.

Dom. ’Twas her intrigues determined him, and they Who egg on others are the real movers. Now will he hate her more a thousand-fold For driving him to crime. She will not ’scape: Our plot will stand.

Par. Is it thy scheme to push Silana’s accusation?

Dom. Ay, ’tis that. We shall accuse the Augusta of intent To marry Plautus, to assert his claim, And thus assail the throne.

Par. How wilt thou broach it?

Dom. We have fixed to-night. Cæsar will dine at home, And with convenient company. ’Tis agreed When he’s well drunk, you enter, announce the plot As freshly hatched, and so unmask the affair That he shall be persuaded.

Par. How glibly, madam, Speech can glide o’er the hitch; I must feel flattered That just in the awkward place I am shovelled in To carry it through, who have no heart in the matter.

Dom. No heart! had you no ear then to my promise?

Par. ’Tis little for the risk. But what of Burrus?

Dom. Seeing that without his name the plot were weak, And that to avouch his treason would discredit it, We say he is suspected.

Par. ’Twill not stand. We lack confederates.

Dom. You forget Poppæa. I have sent for her to try her. If I mistake not, ’Tis she that knocks. Get you behind the door, And watch what passes. There! [Paris hides.

Enter Poppæa.

Now this is kind.