_Pro._ (_to Epicharis_). Who is this scared fellow?
_Cli._ Epicharis, ’tis come: the day is come! Fly from this place!
_Ep._ (_to Proc._). ’Tis my poor brother, sir: heed him not; he is
simple.
_Cli._ (_come to Epi._). Seest thou not, ’tis the end, the day of
wrath? The earth shakes and the dead rise from their tombs.
_Pro._ (_to 1st Off._). By Pluto, if he be not one of them!
_Ep._ (_to Clit._). Sit down quietly, Clitus, for a minute: I can speak
with you presently.
_Cli._ O Madness! Come from this hell: fly while thou mayst!
_Mar._ Ay, sit, mate, sit! be not afeard! sit with us!
_Cli._ Woe to you, slaves of Babylon! woe cometh To the queen that sits
upon the seven hills.
_1st Mar._ That is Rome: the seven hills is Rome. What of Babylon?
_Cli._ Rome shall be burned with fire, Babylon burned, Her smoke shall
curl to heaven.
_Enter Gripus, out of breath._
_GRIPUS._
Gone, she’s gone down!
_Pro._ What’s gone, man?
_Gri._ The theater; foundered, sir, gone clean down. I had just
got well clear of her, when she gave a lurch, and plumped under
starn-foremost in a cloud of dust.
_Cli._ (_to Epic._). Come, come, Epicharis, I pray thee!
_Se^{o.}_ Is this the gods, or is it not the gods? (_drinks._)
_Pro._ That was the crash. 252
_Cli._ (_dragging at Epic._). Thou shalt, thou must.
_Ep._ (_freeing herself_). One moment, Clitus, please!
_Gri._ (_to Proc._). I ran to know, my lord, if you’ll have the boats.
_Ep._ Were any killed, Gripus? tell us.
_Gri._ ’Twas a wonder; all the folk had just left her, I near the last;
I felt dizzy-like, and saw the street seem anyhow: then I looked at the
theater, and she was full of crinks and chinks, when down she went all
to pieces. A little sooner and we had been buried alive.
_1st Off._ Emperor and all.
_Se^{o.}_ O ye gods! (_drinking_) I drink to thee, old dustman (_to
Gripus_).
_Pro._ Off with you, my men: in five minutes I’ll be aboard. (_To
Epic._) Come, lass!
(_Mariners go out with Gripus._)
_Ep._ Come where, my lord?
_Pro._ Why, aboard with me.
_Ep._ Ha ha! I thank you, but I cannot.
_Pro._ Wouldst thou be buried alive?
_Ep._ There is my old bed-ridden mother, my lord;
I’ll not leave her. 275
_Pro._ Well, stick to your ship, like a true girl. You, Calvus, pay the
charges and follow.
_Se^{o.}_ Who’s afraid now, my lord! Is it not the gods?
_Pro._ They take much pains to frighten us, sir.
[_Exit._
_Se^{o.}_ And me, with a wife and family. I care not.
_1st Off._ (_paying_). Thou’lt be buried with thy jars, Epicharis.
_Ep._ Balmed in good wine, eh! Add me yet a denarius for lord Senecio’s
drink.
_Se^{o.}_ Two; I have drunk two.
_1st Off._ Here’s for him.
_Se^{o.}_ (_drinking_). Your health, sir! If you wish to know the
cause of all this, I can inform you. ’Tis the emperor’s cursed singing
hath done it. He hath offended the gods. To call himself Apollo on the
one hand, and on the other to sing in the theatre. What else could he
expect? I give him his due, he cares not for the gods.
_Ep._ He doth not, sir.
_Se^{o.}_ Nor I either: not much.
_1st Off._ Good-night, lass: may we meet again!
_Ep._ No fear. [_Exit 1st Off. with the others._
(_Senecio remains, and Clitus, who stands aloof._)
_Ep._ (_to Senecio_). Follow thou, follow them. 300
_Se^{o.}_ They won’t have me.
_Ep._ Nor will I. I wonder thou durst even show thy face after all thy
vain promises. Thou that wouldst bring me to Cæsar, and I know not
what.
_Se^{o.}_ I can, I shall yet.
_Ep._ Begone, see you, begone.
_Se^{o.}_ Look what I had brought thee (_showing a book_).
_Ep._ A book I do believe.
_Se^{o.}_ Purple edges and gold knops.
_Ep._ Seneca on morals, I suppose.
_Se^{o.}_ No. ’Tis Lucan’s book. This can bring thee to Cæsar. This
little book hath great treasons in it.
_Ep._ Treason! ha! and I to inform, to show it to Cæsar?
_Se^{o.}_ Well, if not, think what his friends might give to recover it.
_Ep._ You should have sold it yourself and brought me the money.
_Se^{o.}_ ’Twould be guessed whence I whizzled it.
_Ep._ Wretch! in what villany wouldst thou snare me? Give it me.
(_Takes it._) From whom didst thou steal it?
_Se^{o.}_ Only from a friend.
_Ep._ I’ll save thy friends from thee, and first myself. Begone! begone!
_Se^{o.}_ Thou wilt come to Rome, Epicharis?
_Ep._ (_thrusting him out_). Begone! [_Exit Senecio._
(_To Clitus_) Now, brother.
_Cli._ O sister, my sister, my Epicharis!
To hear that name defiled! In what a pit
Of sin thou livest, diest; ’mong the swine
Perishest! Ah, by God’s mercy, ’tis not too late:
Fly with me, fly!
_Ep._ Fly whither?
_Cli._ From thy sin.
If the Judge find thee here, thou’rt lost.
_Ep._ Dear Clitus,
What judge?
_Cli._ Why, He who made thee.
_Ep._ (_aside_). Alas! alas!
_Cli._ Be found with me, perchance I may prevail.
_Ep._ Where would you fly?
_Cli._ Last night in heavenly vision
Paul stood before me, as when three years ago
I saw him at Puteoli: one hand
Outstretched he stood and beckoned me to Rome.
Thither I go: ’tis my last call to thee:
Thou wilt not see me again until the day
When I shall hide my face for pity of thee,
And stop mine ears to hear thy anguished cry
For mercy, thy vain cry.
_Ep._ You go to Rome!
_Cli._ Think, sister: we were once so closely bound.
When we were children in what secret fondness
We linked our hands and hearts; how oft we pledged
Our innocent oaths that we would never part!
Now shall the great gulf fixed ’twixt heaven and hell
Divide us? I saved, and thou lost, for ever! 351
That endless life of glory I dread, with thee
Not there, not there!
_Ep._ Is’t to our uncle’s house
You go?
_Cli._ The house of Gaius on the Tiber,
The seventh door above the Cestian bridge:
There shalt thou find immortal life.
_Ep._ Dear brother,
Go not to Rome: your sect is there suspected.
Stay here: or, if you will go, stay at least
Till I can come with you.
_Cli._ The time is short.
Tarry not: come to-night!
_Ep._ Nay, not to-night.
_Cli._ I may not stay for thee.
_Ep._ I cannot come.
_Cli._ Thou wilt not come.
_Ep._ How can you bid me, Clitus,
To leave our helpless mother in all this terror?
_Cli._ Ah! thou wilt never come; thou’rt lost, lost, lost. [_Exit._
_Ep._ Pure, noble heart, why should I love thee more
Now thou art mad?—I did him wrong not yielding
To his delusions. He hath none to love him
But me, and I have let him think that I desert him.
—Go with him tho’ I cannot, I will follow,
And quickly too. To-morrow I’ll to Rome. [_Exit._