_Pal._ Ay, if this storm go by, The turns of time may offer us reprisals. At present use all means to gain thy son.
_Pal._ Be bold. The gods protect you. Farewell. 820
Look from the window: thou wilt see ’tis true; He takes all with him.
_Tig._ This much were all: and yet this caravan Is but the least of six; His monstrous Grace Brings up the rear.
_Tig._ ’Tis noble, say you, that the thief go quit With all his plunder from the house he plundered?
_Par._ Hark how the weasel can upbraid the fox! Good Tigellinus, there’s no need to grudge Pallas his scrapings; the sea is full of fish: 830 Rather thou should’st rejoice because thou seest Thy probable hap. Pray that as many mules, Litters and bags and bales, women and slaves May comfort thee.
_Par._ I comfort Tigellinus on the fate Of his predecessor.
Ner._ (_at window_). Gods! see what a train _Drags out the very bowels of the palace. No wonder my good mother’s man resigns With resignation.
_Ner._ I seek the Augusta. She late was here; go find her; say I wait her. 840
Through my discovery, Nero, thy good fortune Lifts thee a corner of the veil whereunder Thy mother plots. Be not thou now deceived To further trust. She is bent upon thy ruin.
_Ner._ Though it be true she urged Britannicus Even in those words, we lack the surety yet She spoke them in good faith.
_Ner._ My mother is very deep, and often looks Far from her meaning. She will use this way To worm a confidence. 850
Ner. Yet must the boy have thought so, for you said That what she urged he took not all in kindness.
_Dom._ Drive not the fault on him. Did Burrus waver, Nothing could save thee. And it seems thy mother Had hope to win him. She comes; now be thou firm. I will be gone. _[Exit._
_Ner._ (_solus_). Now she cannot deceive me.
_Agr._ My son, thy mother comes at thy command.
_Agr._ What would’st thou with me, son? I come to hear, and yet I scarce am fit 860 For banter or abuse. I am ill to-day.
_Ner._ No wonder; ’tis you do too much. ’Twere better You spared yourself. Go rest; my business Will not cure headaches.
_Agr._ My sickness will not pass. To-morrow I shall leave thee; that last grief Will soon engulph the rest: speak while thou may’st.
_Agr._ I would spare thee That worst disgrace of sending me away. I go of myself. 870