Seleucus.

Ay, madam. I go at once.

Dom. Speak nothing waveringly.

Sel. Nay, madam.

Dom. ’Tis her fate to marry Cæsar.

Sel. My art needs no instruction.

Dom. It must be so.

Sel. It is so, madam.

Dom. See, thy prophecy Is that which should determine it. Go now. [To door. Her purse will satisfy thee well.

Sel. Yet once Ere I be gone, madam, I’ll make a stand To win thy credit.

Dom. Thou must show me cause. Thou say’st the Augusta plots against her son, Supports Britannicus, tampers with Burrus. How know’st thou this?

Sel. Why should I lie?

Dom. I think There may be some who make it worth thy while.

Sel. I would not meddle in this thing for money.

Dom. Why tell me then at all?

Sel. To win thy help.

Dom. To what?

Sel. To save the prince.

Dom. If thou’rt in earnest, Where is thy confidence? Assure me first, At least, of what thou say’st. Whence know’st thou this?

Sel. Fulvia, thy sister’s maid, rewards my love With many trifles: what she overhears I piece together.

Dom. What of this was heard, And how much pieced?

Sel. The Augusta sent all out, And spake long time in private with the prince. What passed I guess from this; that ere she left, Being risen to go, as Fulvia at the door Stood just without, she heard her voice most plainly Angrily entreating, saying, that though he doubted, Yet she would still with him regain her power: If he held off yet he so far was right, As that ’twas best to speak with Burrus first.

Dom. And has she since seen Burrus?

Sel. I think she hath. He lately came from Seneca’s, and there The Augusta must have met with him.

Dom. What passed?

Sel. I know not yet. Fulvia will know and tell me.

Dom. But can’st thou trust her?

Sel. Ay, she hath no purpose. Whate’er she hears is mine.

Dom. Then make this thine. Her tampering with Britannicus is nought: But if she speak with Burrus, there is matter That I can work on. Ay, if that should be— Make sure of that, and bring me word at once. To-night thou hast thy business; go and do it. Poppæa marries Cæsar.

Sel. Madam, I go. [Exit.

Dom. Now, my good sister, if this tale is true, Thy fortune turns: I trample on thee now. Ay, if she have spoke with Burrus, then one word To Nero, and she is doomed. Patience and time Bring us all opportunities: we need But watch and wait. The way I least expected She runs within the reach of my revenge. [Exit.