_The room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA
and MAID._
_MAID._
Madam, the litter waits.
_POPPÆA._
Give me my mirror, miss.
Why, see how slovenly thou’st done my hair;
’Tis out already.
_Maid._ With your pardon, madam,
’Tis very well. Nay, ’tis as firm as a rock.
You look your best to-night.
_Pop._ Where is the flower
I gave thee?
_Maid._ Here, my lady.
_Pop._ Put it in.
There, there. Ay, that will do. Now where’s my cloak? [_Exit Maid._
_Enter Otho._
_OTHO._
So then you are going?
_Pop._ Yes, I go alone, 1230
Since you will not come with me.
_Oth._ You are always free
To have your way; but when your wish is mine,
It is twice yours. This time you know ’tis not:
And were I used to set constraint upon you,
Could it be said Otho e’er crossed his wife
With a command, it should be now: I’d say
This I forbid.
_Pop._ And why?
_Oth._ I entreat you, dearest.
_Pop._ I am pledged to go.
_Oth._ Go not.
_Pop._ There’s now no choice.
_Oth._ A light excuse would serve: a sudden sickness,
A cold, a headache. Do not go.
_Pop._ Why, look! 1240
If you are not jealous, Otho! jealous, jealous.
You see not straight.
_Oth._ I see you smile on Cæsar.
_Pop._ And think you, then, I must have turned my love
Where I have smiled? that I would play you false
For the pleasure of it?
_Oth._ Why then sup with Cæsar?
_Pop._ A trifle hangs upon him I would wear,—
The world.
_Oth._ So dazzled by the imperial splendour!
Think: to be Cæsar’s mistress for a year
Is not to rule the world.
_Pop._ I will be Cæsar’s wife.
_Oth._ Ah! look you then so high? 1250
_Pop._ Who shall be called my rival?
_Oth._ Cæsar’s wife.
_Pop._ She hinders not.
_Oth._ Oh, thou would’st never dare it,
Did’st thou not love him.
_Pop._ What should I not dare?
_Oth._ Hast thou considered well the ambiguous style
Thou goest to take, and yet determined?
_Pop._ Ay.
_Oth._ ’Tis death, ’tis death. I speak now but for thee:
Not for myself. The cup Octavia drinks
To quit thy place thou too wilt come to taste.
_Pop._ That is my risk. The sport were tame without it:
The game can boast a sting. 1260
_Oth._ Weigh well the danger:
Think of it thus; to live on a caprice
Whose jealousy is death; where for the reason
One seems to love thee will be ten to hate thee;
Where not to be beforehand with a treachery
Is to be victim.
_Pop._ I can steer my way.
_Oth._ And for this desperate venture wilt cast off
My love, our love?
_Pop._ What is love?
_Oth._ Art thou Poppæa?
Wer’t any else but thou that questioned thus,
My answer then were ready: I should say
Ask of Poppæa, ’tis the thing she knows; 1270
Ask Otho’s wife what love is, she can tell.
And thou to ask! as if ’twere some strange matter
Wide of experience, and to ask of me
Who won thee for my teacher!
_Pop._ ’Tis true the impeachment
I make of love is that he hath exhausted
His treasure rather than denied us aught.
_Oth._ Exhausted love! how mean you?
_Pop._ See! I am made
Of other stuff and passions besides love.
You cannot wish that all my life should move
Pent in this narrow circle, day by day 1280
Keeping the pretty game up which I learned
When I was green: that I should ne’er do else
Than this one thing, and that so constantly
That even the habit and the practice of it
Are scarce employment; that I should grow grey,
And see the wide and seasonable field
Of life’s exertion and excitement fallow
With this one weed of love?
_Oth._ A weed, you say!
_Pop._ I have other motions in me. I’ve an itch
Men call ambition, and I see a prize 1290
Looks worth the having.
_Oth._ ’Tis not worth the having.
_Pop._ Why, what were I to thee, could’st thou be Cæsar?
_Oth._ Even all thou art; I have no itch to rule
Merely to see that game played out, and cry
At the end—what is ambition?
_Pop._ It hath no end.
_Oth._ ’Tis plain love hath an end.
_Pop._ Nay, as I love thee,
I still shall love thee. Only, Otho....
_Oth._ What?
_Pop._ I thought your eye was open to perceive
The grandeur of my scheme.
_Oth._ Thou wert mistaken.
_Pop._ Upon what falls to-night, let us decide. 1300
I have no secrets from you: if I prosper,
Desert me if you will, but blame me not:
For dared I combat Cæsar’s inclination
There were as much to lose. The thing I do
Will be your safety.
_Oth._ Rather would I die,
Ay, rather far that thou should’st die than do
This baseness willingly.
_Pop._ Nay, speak not so.
I shall do nothing base.
_Oth._ Thou must succeed.
Only before thou goest I’ll kiss thee once. [_Kisses Pop._
Otho’s last kiss. Farewell. 1310
_Pop._ Good night. I go.
Lesbia, my cloak! I shall have news ere morn. [_Exit._
_Oth._ Gone! With a grace
As firm, as pleasant, gay and self-possessed
As that with which she hath come a thousand times
To meet me, kiss me, and call me hers, she goes
To change her husband .. gone! and not a sign
To show that leaving me was losing aught!
Fool that I was! To the soul I knew her vain,
Self-seeking, light, petulant at the breath
Of contradiction, and yet I trusted. What, 1320
Asks she, is love. Ay, what? I love my dog;
He is devoted beyond reason, pitiful
In his dependence; he will scarce reproach me
With some short wondering sorrow, if I strike him—
I love my horse; he bears me willingly,
Answering spiritedly; with all his strength
Generous and gentle. But woman, if man love her,—
Seeing she is less devoted than the hound,
Less noble than the horse,—’tis that we deem,
That being human she can gauge the worth 1330
Of our intensity, and in kind somewhat
Repay it: ’tis a delusion; spite of shew,
She hath not in her heart that which her eyes
Fondly declare. There is no passion possible
Which beauty can interpret or soft speech
Express, which was not mine; ay, by that title
O’er and o’er; yet I think no dog in Rome
Would leave the meanest slave that fed him once,
As hath this woman left the man that loved her.
[_Knocking._
_Enter Lucan and Petronius._
_LUCAN._
Ha! here he is. We have come to fetch you, Otho.
_Oth._ I do not go to-night. 1341
_PETRONIUS._
Not go! What is’t, man?—ill?
_Oth._ My wife has gone, therefore I do not go:—
You see the matter, maybe have foreseen it;
I was too blind. Spare me your condolence;
I do not wish even sympathy. You know
I loved her, but ’tis over. Let me give you
Such knowledge as I wish my friends to have,
Else might they mistake somewhat. See! she is gone
To-night against my wish: ’tis nothing more: 1350
But this will lead to much. I let my house;
Sell you my wine, Petronius, if you wish it,
And take—I shall not want for interest—
The Lusitanian proconsulate.
_Luc._ You go from Rome?
_Oth._ I do.
_Petr._ Break not with Cæsar.
_Oth._ I’ll take employment.
_Petr._ Jove! I think you’re wise,
Otho; you’re wise. I’ve half a mind myself
To give my friends the slip. But as it is,
Well .. come, I’ll take the wine; what is your price?
_Oth._ The price I gave. 1360
_Petr._ A bargain. I shall send for it.
_Luc._ (_to Otho_). Otho, I will not go. Although thy wrong
Cannot be stayed, yet would I rather die
Than sit and smile on it.
_Oth._ I thank thee, Lucan.
I’d ask thee rather look upon the matter
As on a thing of course: I think it is.
Go, take no note of it.
_Luc._ If ’tis thy wish.
_Oth._ It is. Good night.
_Luc. and Petr._ Good night. [_Exeunt._