_The next morning: a room in Lucan’s house._
_Enter a Servant._
_SERVANT._
Scarce an hour after sunrise, and two ladies for my master already.
This it is to be a poet. One gives no name; the other is Thrasea’s
daughter, Priscus’ young wife. I am to take her first: though the other
looks the more pressing. (_Goes to side, and returns ushering Fannia._)
If my lady will kindly wait here a moment.
_FANNIA._
Is your master not up?
_Serv._ He was late last night, my lady; and is now breakfasting.
_Fan._ Will he not see me? 1430
_Serv._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._
_Fan._ It is then as we feared: Lucan was there.
He is one of the conspiracy of Piso,
And he was at Petronius’ house last night:
I come too late.
_Enter Lucan, hurriedly._