OCTAVIA: The emperor’s greater.
NURSE: In time he will respect you as his wife.
OCTAVIA: Not while his mistress lives; she will prevent it.
NURSE: No one respects her.
OCTAVIA: But her husband loves her.
NURSE: He’s not her husband, nor is she his wife.
OCTAVIA: She will be soon, and mother of his child.
NURSE: A young man’s love is hot in its first flush,
And cools as quickly; in a lawless amour
’Tis no more lasting than a puff of smoke;
His love for a chaste wife will last for ever.
There was another once1 who dared to steal
Your husband from your bed, and, though a slave,
Long ruled her master’s heart; she knew what fall
She had to fear –
OCTAVIA: The rise of her successor.
NURSE: And she, deposed and humble, left behind
A monument of stone set up to be
A witness and confession of her fears.
This other too will find herself disowned
By the inconstant winged God of Love.
For all her eminent beauty, proud position,
Her triumph will be short.
The Queen of goddesses herself
Had the like pains to bear:
The Lord of Heaven, Father of the Gods
Would borrow many different shapes –
A flying swan, a horn’d Sidonian bull,
A falling shower of gold.
Now Leda has her star in heaven,
Bacchus his seat beside his father’s throne,
Alcides lives among the gods
With Hebe for his wife;
The wrath of Juno is appeased
Since he whom once she hated is become
Her son-in-law.1 That august wife
Could curb her wrath and learn
To conquer by compliance.
Now none but Juno holds
The Thunderer’s love, no power
Can move her from her heavenly couch,
No mortal beauty now
Tempts Jupiter to leave his court on high.
You are a Juno upon earth,
Sister and spouse of the August,
And you must conquer grief.
OCTAVIA: Sooner will come the day when raging seas
Are mingled with the stars, when fire drinks water,
When heaven’s high pole is sunk in Tartarus,
When kindly light is one with darkness, day
With dewy night – sooner than can my heart,
Which never may forget my brother’s death,
Be one with my vile husband’s evil soul.
Would that the ruler of the gods in heaven
Might send his fire to strike the sinful head
Of that foul emperor – if he can shake
The earth with horrid thunder and affright
Our mortal senses with his sacred fires
And portents strange: comets and shooting stars
Have blazed their fiery trail across the sky
Where cold Boötes stiff with Arctic ice
Wheels his slow wagon through the march of night.
Look, how the air of heaven is diseased
By the infection of this monstrous tyrant’s
Destroying breath, when over all the world
Ruled by this evil monarch stars foretell
Renewed calamities. Less dread attended
The giant Typhon whom the angry Earth
Once spawned in spite of mighty Jupiter.
A far more dangerous monster now, the foe
Of gods and men, has driven the holy ones
Out of their temples, banished citizens,
Taken his brother’s life, and drained the blood
Of his own mother’s body – and still lives,
Still looks upon the light, still draws
His poisonous breath. O Father of mankind!
How can your royal hand so heedlessly,
So indiscriminately, hurl your weapons
Wide of their mark, yet spare a man so guilty?
May the full forfeit of his crimes be paid
By this false Nero, this Domitius’ son,
Whose infamous yoke oppresses all the world,
Whose sins besmirch the name he bears, Augustus.
NURSE: I grant he is not fit to be your husband.
Yet let your destiny, your fortune, rule you,
Dear child, I beg. Do not excite his anger,
Which can be terrible. Some god there may be
Who can avenge your wrongs; some day will dawn.
OCTAVIA: Too long the anger of the cruel gods
Has pressed upon my house; Venus at first
Brought ruin on it, through the fatal error
Of my ill-fated mother; married once,
Infatuated by illicit passion,
She made a second marriage,1 had no thought
For children or for husband, or for law.
On that infernal marriage vengeful Fury,
Her flying locks with serpents bound, attended,
To snatch the torches from the nuptial chamber
And quench their fire in blood; ay, she it was
That spurred the emperor’s heart with savage wrath
To impious murder. So my hapless mother
Fell to the sword, and by her death condemned me
To everlasting anguish; husband too,
And son, she took down with her to the grave,
Betrayer and destroyer of our house.
NURSE: Repeat no more your pious lamentations,
No longer call upon your mother’s shade;
She has paid heavily for her offences.
*
CHORUS: What new report is this?
Pray God it be but idle talk,
As all too often heard before
And no more worth the hearing.
Our emperor to take another wife?
That must not be; his lawful spouse
Octavia must retain her place
In her own father’s house.
And let us pray that she may bear
A child to pledge our peace,
The peace of an untroubled world
In which the honoured name of Rome
May ever live.
Queen Juno shares in heaven by right
Her brother’s bed; shall our Augustus
Banish from her ancestral house
His sister wife? What then avail
True goodness, fatherhood divine,
Pure virtue and virginity?
We are to blame; we have betrayed,
After his death, our emperor’s child,
To sacrifice her to the fears
That threatened us. Yet our forefathers knew
True Roman virtue; they were men
In whom the seed and blood of Mars still lived.
They were the men who drove proud kings
Out of this city. They did well
When they avenged the dying soul
Of a pure maiden whom her father slew
To save her from base servitude,
To rob vile lust of its unlawful triumph.1
And, sad Lucretia, for thy sake
Grim war began, when thou wast wronged
By a base tyrant’s lust, and died
By thine own hand. The price was paid
Not by Tarquinius alone
For his foul deed, but by his wife2
Tullia, who mutilated
Her own dead father’s limbs
Under her flying chariot wheels,
Inhuman daughter, and refused his aged corpse
The rite of funeral fire.
We in our time have seen
A son’s iniquity:
The emperor’s mother lured
Into a ship devised for death
On the Tyrrhenian sea.1
The crew obeyed their orders; made all has
te
To leave the innocent harbour; plash of oars
Sang on the waves; the ship sped out to sea,
There to collapse, timbers falling apart,
To split, filling with water, and to sink.
Shouts rise up to the heavens, despairing cries
Of weeping women. Spectre of terrible death
Meets every eye; which every man for himself
Seeks to escape. Some on the wrecked ship’s planks
Clinging, naked, battle against the waves.
Some make shift to swim to the nearest shore.
Many are doomed to drown.
The emperor’s lady rends her clothes,
Plucks at her hair, and tears
Course down her cheeks.
She saw there was no hope;
Helpless in her distress, but loud in wrath
‘Is this,’ cried she, ‘my son’s reward
For all that I have given him?
Is this what I have earned? This ship
Is my just punishment
For having mothered such a son,
For having given him life.… O fool!
For having made him Caesar, Emperor!
Lift up your eyes from Acheron,
My husband, and enjoy the sight
Of my just punishment!
Your death, poor wretch, was of my doing;
Your son’s assassination was my work.
Unburied now, as I deserve,
Sunk in the cruel sea,
I come to join your soul in death.’
Upon her speaking lips
The wild waves beat.
She plunged into the sea, sank down,
And rose again above the billows.
Fear forced her hands
To strive against the surging flood,
But soon she tired. Yet in her heart
Remained unspoken hope
And courage to defy death’s angry face.
Many there were that rendered gallant aid,
Though with spent strength,
Under the onslaught of the sea.
And while her arms flagged limply
They bore her up and spoke assuringly.
For what then, lady, were you saved
From the destroying sea? You were to die
By your son’s sword – a deed
Our sons will shudder to believe
And after ages for all time
Think unbelievable.1
Hearing that she was rescued from the sea
And still alive, this impious son
In rage and desperation planned
A repetition of his villainy.
In haste to seal his mother’s fate
He would allow his infamy no pause.
An underling was sent,
And did what he was told to do –
Pierced with a sword his mistress’s breast.
Then, dying, the unhappy woman
Implored the murderer to thrust his blade
Into her belly. ‘Let the sword
Sink in this womb,’ she cried, ‘this flesh
That brought so foul a monster forth!’
And with that word,
And a last cry of pain, her stricken soul
From her torn body fled away.
*
SENECA: Almighty Fate, why hast thou smiled on me
With thy deceiving face? Why hast thou raised me
When I was satisfied with what I had,
To this high eminence? That I might see
From this exalted seat how many dangers
Encompassed me, and from this altitude
My fall might be the greater? Happier far
Was my retreat upon the rocky shores
Of Corsica, removed from envy’s snares.
My carefree mind, owning no other master,
Was mine to use for my own chosen studies.1
My greatest pleasure was to scan the sky,
That noblest work of the great architect
Of infinite creation, Mother Nature,
Marking the motions of the universe,
The passage of the chariot of the sun,
The night’s recurring phases, and the moon’s
Bright orb encircled by the wandering stars,
The vast effulgence of the shining heavens.
Is all this glory doomed to age with time
And perish in blind chaos? Then must come
Once more upon the world a day of death,
When skies must fall and our unworthy race
Be blotted out, until a brighter dawn
Bring in a new and better generation
Like that which walked upon a younger world
When Saturn was the ruler of the sky.1
That was the age when the most potent goddess,
Justice, sent down from heaven with Faith divine,
Governed the human race in gentleness.
War was unknown among the nations; arms,
Shrill trumpets, cities guarded by strong walls,
Were things unheard of; roads were free for all,
And all earth’s goods were common property.
Nay, Earth herself was happy to extend
Her bounteous fertility to all
Without compulsion, like a joyful parent
Sure in the trust of her devoted sons.
But then a second generation rose
Less gentle than the first; and after that
A third, gifted with skill for new inventions,
Yet still controlled by sanctity of law.
The next, a restless breed, presumed the right
To hunt wild beasts, to drag the sea with nets
For fish that sheltered in its lower depths,
To catch small birds with reed-traps, snare wild game
With cage or noose, and force the savage bull
To bear the yoke; then ploughshares first began
To cleave the yet untroubled earth, which then,
Affronted, hid her fruit more secretly
Within her sacred womb. But those base sons
For gold, and that dread iron whence ere long
They fashioned arms to fit their murderous hands.
This was the generation that set bounds
To establish kingdoms; built new-fashioned cities;
Fought to defend their neighbours’ property,
Or marched against it, covetous for spoil.
Then heaven’s brightest star, the maid Astraea,
Abandoned earth and fled the wicked ways
And blood-polluted hands of cruel man.
So over all the world the rage for war
And greed for gold increased; and last was born
That most delectable destroyer, Lust,
Whose power grew greater with the growth of time
And fatal Folly. Now upon our heads
The gathered weight of centuries of sin
Falls like a breaking flood. We are crushed down
Under our own intolerable age
When crime is king, impiety let loose,
And lawless love gives reign to Lechery.
All-conquering Lust with hands long used to rapine
Plunders the boundless wealth of all the world
To squander it for nothing.
Nero comes,
With agitated steps and angry look.
I dread to think what new intent he brings.…
NERO: Obey your orders; tell some of your men
To bring me the decapitated heads
Of Plautus and of Sulla.1
PREFECT: It shall be done
Without delay. I’ll to the camp myself.…
SENECA: Is that just treatment for those nearest to you?
NERO: Let him be just who has no need to fear.
SENECA: Best antidote to fear is clemency.
NERO: A king’s best work is to put enemies down.
SEN
ECA: Good fathers of the state preserve their sons.
NERO: Soft-hearted greybeards should be teaching children.
SENECA: Headstrong young men need to be sent to school.
NERO: Young men are old enough to know their minds.
SENECA: May yours be ever pleasing to the gods.
NERO: I, who make gods, would be a fool to fear them.
SENECA: The more your power, greater your fear should be.
NERO: I, thanks to Fortune, may do anything.
SENECA: Fortune is fickle; never trust her favours.
NERO: A man’s a fool who does not know his strength.
SENECA: Justice, not strength, is what a good man knows.
NERO: Men spurn humility.
SENECA: They stamp on tyrants.
NERO: Steel is the emperor’s guard.
SENECA: Trust is a better.
NERO: A Caesar should be feared.
SENECA: Rather be loved.
NERO: Fear is a subject’s duty.
SENECA: Duties irk.
NERO: We order, they obey.
SENECA: Then give just orders –
NERO: I shall decide.
SENECA: – approved by their consent.
NERO: The sword will win consent.
SENECA: May heaven forbid!
NERO: Am I to tolerate conspiracy
Against my life, and make no retribution?
To suffer their contempt, and in the end
Be overthrown? Has banishment put down
Plautus and Sulla? From remotest exile
Their unrepentant zeal has furnished arms
To agents of their plot to murder me.
If absent outlaws’ hopes can be sustained
By the enduring favour they command
Here in the city, nothing but the sword
Can rid me of suspected enemies.
My wife is one of them, and she must die,
Like her dear brother. What stands high, must fall.
SENECA: Yet to stand high among the eminent,
To guard the commonwealth, to show compassion
To the unfortunate, to sheathe the sword,
To make an end of strife, bring to an age
Tranquillity, and peace to all the world –
Is not this good? It is the highest good.
It is the way to heaven. By this way
Augustus, our first pater patriae,
Ascended to the stars, and has his temples
In which we worship his divinity.
Yet he had been some time the sport of Fortune
In many grievous accidents of war
On land and sea, until he had brought down
His father’s enemies; on you the goddess
Has with a willing and a bloodless hand
Bestowed her sovereignty; placed in your grasp
The reins of government, made earth and sea
Your subjects. Then all jealous rivalry