The drug hath found his heart . That gives the sign to the Praetorians Upon the instant of the Emperor 's death . Hark ! trumpets answering through all the city . Xenophon , you and I are in this death Eternally bound . This husband have I slain To lift unto the windy chair of the world Nero , my son . Your silence I will buy With endless riches ; but a hint divulged —— Meantime his child , his heir , Britannicus , Must not be seen lest he be clamoured for . So till the sad Chaldean give the sign Of that so yearned for , favourable hour , When with good omens may my son succeed , The sudden death of Claudius must be hid ! Then on the instant Nero be proclaimed And Rome awake on an accomplished deed . Call them ! A lulling music let them bring . O thou who readest all the scroll of the sky , Stands it so sure Nero my son shall reign ? What lurks behind these words ? There is a ‘ but ’ still hovering in the stars . The half ! I 'll know the rest . Peril ! His or mine ? I will know all , however dark . Finish what did so splendidly begin . Kill me , but reign ! Seneca ! Speak it low ! Caesar is dead ! Nero shall climb the throne . You , Xenophon and Burrus , stand with me . Say , Burrus , quickly say , how stands our cause With the Praetorians who unmake and make Emperors ? Will they have Nero ? Stand there until I have from him the sign , Then let thy sword gleam upward to the dawn . You for the army answerable stand . And , Seneca , I have entrusted Nero 's mind To you , to point an eaglet to the sun . Nero ? What does he ? A torch-lit race ! And yet why not ? My child Should climb all virgin to the throne of the earth , Not conscious of spilt blood : and I meantime Will sway the deep heart of the mighty world . The peril is Britannicus : for Nero , Careless of empire , strings but verse to verse . How shall this dove attain the eagle cry ? What do you mean ? Till the auspicious hour he is not dead . OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS enter Do not disturb your father for this night . Children , he is in need of some long rest . Go back to bed : your father sleepeth sound . Would you then Trouble him , when to sleep is all he asks ? No ! Come softly back to bed ! no — no — this way ! Britannicus , with the first peer of light You shall behold your father ; but not now . So the physician , Xenophon , enjoined me . Now take Octavia 's hand — so , both of you . How long till Rome shall greet her Emperor ? Give the sign ! That music be a dirge : Caesar is dead . Nero , thou art my son ! Nero , upon this arm behold I clasp This amulet . One dawn two murderers Despatched to kill thee , stealing to thy bed Were frightened by a snake which from beneath Thy pillow glided . From that serpent 's skin I made this charm . Wear it , and thou shalt prosper ; But lose it , look thou for calamities . Your pupil now the awful purple wears . You tremble but to grasp the pen ! But they Who dyed it thus , feared not to grip the brand . It is an act to you most necessary , If you would sit secure where I have set you . Now the light things of boyhood , toys of youth , Unworthy that stern seat , you must discard . Acte , the playmate of those careless hours , Henceforth must be forgotten : you shall wed A royal consort — young Octavia , The child of Claudius , of the imperial line . Not while this hand Is on thy brow , and this voice in thine ear . We two will rule the world . When you have need of me , then call me . My dear , dear son ! And Nero , well I know That you could never hurt or injure me . But you will not forget who set you here — You will not , tell me ? Mothers for children have dared much , and more Have suffered ; but what mother hath so scarred Her soul for the dear fruit of her body as I ? Thy birth-pang was the least of all the throes That I for thee have suffered — a brief pain , A little , little pain we share with creatures ; But what was this to torments of the mind , The dark , imperial meditations , Musing with eyes half-closed in moonless night ; The crimes — yes , crimes , the blood that has been spilt — Why , I have made a way for thee through ghosts . Nero , you 'll not forget ? My son , this very night it was foretold ‘ Nero shall reign , but he shall kill his mother . ’ Tell me the stars have lied . Kiss me ; we both of us must sleep awhile . I will speak With you alone , not compassed by these men .To me you owe the height where now you stand . Who took you , schoolmaster , from exile ? Who Unstewarded you , Burrus ? If I have made , I can unmake — Now leave me with my son .You are self-made . Gods ! I 'd no hand in that !Nero , have you forgot who set you there ? You should not need that I remind you of it . Are you the babe that lay upon my breast ? Have I not reared you , tended you , and loved you ? Boy , never since I first looked on the sun From man or woman had I insolence , Who have sistered , wived , and mothered Emperors . Gods ! you have hit on a new thing to tell me .Does your heart beat ? Are you all ice and pose ? Has nothing gripped you — is there aught to grip In you , pert shadow ? Have you e'er shed tears ? O wall of stone ‘ gainst which I beat in vain ! Nero , I will do much to win you back For your own sake : and though it hurts me sore , Your passion for Poppaea I will aid . When did a mother yield herself to this ? Child , I have done with scorn , with bitter words , With taunt , with gibe . Now I ask only pity — A little pity from flesh that I conceived , A little mercy from the body I bore , And touches from the baby hands I kissed . Nothing I ask of you , only to love me , And if not that , to bear with me a while , Who have borne much for you : no , Nero , child , I will not weary you , I yearn for you . Forgive me all the deeds that I have done for you , Forget the great love I have spent on you , Pardon the long , long life for you endured . Leave Rome ! Why , I would die as I did step Outside her gates , and glide henceforth a shadow . The blood would cease to run in my veins , my heart Stop , and my breath subside without her walls . All without Rome is darkness : you will not Despatch my shadow down to Antium ? My age ! Am I old then ? Look on this face , Where am I scarred , who have steered the bark of State As it plunged , as it rose over the waves of change ? I was renewed with salt of such a sea . Empires and Emperors I have outlived ; A thousand loves and lusts have left no line ; Tremendous fortunes have not touched my hair , Murder hath left my cheek as the cheek of a babe . My age ! Who then accuses me of age ? Was this a flash from budding Seneca , Or the boy Burrus ’ inspiration ? Say ? Do I owe it to the shrivelled or the maimed ? Bookman , shall I learn policy from you ? Be patient with me . Nero , you I ask , Not schoolmasters or stewards I promoted . Is it your will I go to Antium ? Speak , speak . Be not the mouthpiece of these men : Domitius ! Then , sir , discharge me not from your employ Without some written commendation , That I can tire the hair or pare the nails , That those who were my friends may take me in ! O , lady now ? Mother , no more ! See the new tiger in the dancer 's eye : ‘ Ware of him , keepers — then , you bid me go ? Romans , behold this son : the man of men ; This harp-player , this actor , this buffoon —— — sitting where great Julius but aspired To sit , and died in the aspiring : see , This mime — my son is he ? And did I then Have one mad moment with a street musician ? This son now sends me forth , Yet it was I , his mother , set him there . And , ah ! if it were known at what a price , Witness , you shades of the Silani ! And witness Messalina on vain knees ! And witness Claudius with the envenomed cup . Not the seas shall stop me now , Raging on all the shores of all the world . Witness if easily my son did reign , I am bloody from head to foot for sake of him , And for my cub am I incarnadined . I 'll go , but if I fall , Rome too shall fall : I 'll shake this empire till it reel and crash On that ungrateful head ; and if I fall , The builded world shall tumble down in thunder . Ah ! To my arms , boy ! Tremble now and shake ! Here is the true heir to the imperial throne , Deposed by me , but now by me restored . I 'll to the Praetorians ! To the camp ! And there upon the one side they shall see Britannicus the child of Claudius , And me the daughter of Germanicus ; And on the other side a harp-player , A withered pedant , and a maimèd sergeant , Disputing for the diadem of the earth . Come , Caesar , away to the Praetorians ! Thou hast done this . This seemeth like to old days come again , Evenings of Antium with a rising moon . My boy , my boy , again ! Look in my eyes . So as a babe would you look up at me After a night of tossing , half-awake , Blinking against the dawn , and pull my head Down to you , till I lost you in my hair . Do you remember many a night so thick With stars as this — you would not go to bed , But still would paddle in the warm ocean Spraying it with small hands into the skies . Or when you would sail In a slight skiff under a moon like this , Though chidden oft and oft . A wilful child — the sea — ever the sea — Your mother could not hold you from the sea . Will you be sore if I confess a thought ? So foolish it seems now . Awhile I doubted whether I should come . Now , do not laugh at me — I say You will not laugh at me ? Why — I thought That you perhaps would kill me if I came ! Truly I did ! ‘ O , ’ I said , ‘ I have wearied him : he is weary of his mother . ’ In my ears there buzzed that prophecy — ‘ Nero shall reign but he shall kill his mother . ’ Now — now — I had not told you had I not Been above measure happy . Now no more Wild words , no more mad words between us two , Who all the while are aching to be friends . O how your hands come waxen once again Within my own : again behind your voice The hesitating tardy bird-like word And the sweet slur of ‘ r 's . ’ O but to-night Even grandeur palls , the splendid goal : to-night I am a woman and am with my child . Beautiful night that gently bringest back Mother to son , and callest all thy stars To watch it . Quiet sea that bringest peace Between us two . Hast thou not thought how still The air is as with silent pleasure ? Child , Is not the night then more than common calm ? Never until to-night did I so feel The lure of the sea that lures me to lie down At last after such heat . Ah , but the stars Are falling and I feel the unseen dawn . Son , I must go at once . Where is my maid To wrap me ? Sweet and warm now is the night And I am glad I had prepared to go By water , not by land . Alas ! Now must I go by land . Yes — yes — I 'll go in her — Why not ? Nero , my maid a moment to enwrap me . As the wrapping is finished . I have slept ill of late : but I shall have A soft and steady breeze across the bay . I shall sleep sound . Now , Nero , now good-bye . For ever we are friends ? Most kind . You shall see me To-morrow . Will you cross the bay to me , Or shall I come to you ? She is . Yes . I see you have my amulet . So bright the night you 'll see me all the way Across the shining water . Good-night , child ! I shall see you then to-morrow . Already it hath dawned . Child !