Act 5 — ACT V
Frank Justus Miller translation
Nero [seated in a room of his palace]: Too slow my soldiers' hands, too mild my wrath,820 When citizens have dared such crimes as these. Those torches that they kindled 'gainst their prince Their blood shall quench; and Rome, who bore such men, Shall be bespattered with her people's gore. Yet death is far too light a punishment825 For such atrocities; this impious mob Shall suffer worse than death. But she, my wife And sister, whom I hate with deadly fear, For whose sole sake the people rage at me, Shall give her life at last to sate my grief, And quench my anger in her flowing blood.830 Soon shall my flames enwrap the city's walls, And in the ruins of her falling homes The people shall be buried; squalid want, Dire hunger, grief-all these shall they endure. Too fat upon the blessings of our age Has this vile mob become, and know not how835 To bear our clemency and relish peace; But, rash and reckless, are they ever borne By shifting tides of passion to their hurt. They must be held in check by suffering, Be ever pressed beneath the heavy yoke, Lest once again they dare assail the throne,840 And to the august features of my wife Dare lift again their vulgar eyes. O'erawed By fear of punishment must they be taught To yield obedience to their prince's nod. But here I see the man whose loyalty Has made him captain of my royal guards.845
[Enter Prefect.]
Prefect: The people's rage by slaughter of a few, Who most resistance made is overcome. Nero: Is that enough? Was that my word to thee? "Is overcome?" Where then is my revenge? Prefect: The guilty leaders of the mob are dead.850 Nero: Nay, but the mob itself, which dared to assail My house with flames, to dictate laws to me, To drag my noble wife from off my bed, And with unhallowed hands and angry threats To affront her majesty—are they unscathed?855 Prefect: Shall angry grief decide their punishment? Nero: It shall—whose fame no future age shall dim. Prefect: Which neither wrath nor fear shall moderate?[58] Nero: She first shall feel my wrath who merits it. Prefect: Tell whom thou mean'st. My hand shall spare her not.860 Nero: My wrath demands my guilty sister's death. Prefect: Benumbing horror holds me in its grasp. Nero: Wilt not obey my word? Prefect: Why question that? Nero: Because thou spar'st my foe. Prefect: A woman, foe? Nero: If she be criminal.865 Prefect: But what her crime? Nero: The people's rage. Prefect: But who can check their rage? Nero: The one who fanned its flame. Prefect: But who that one? Nero: A woman she, to whom an evil heart Hath nature given, a soul to fraud inclined. Prefect: But not the power to act.870 Nero: That she may be Without the power to act, that present fear May break her strength, let punishment at once, Too long delayed, crush out her guilty life. Have done at once with arguments and prayers, And do my royal bidding: let her sail To some far distant shore and there be slain,875 That thus at last my fears may be at rest.
[Exeunt.]
Chorus [attached to Octavia]: Oh, dire and deadly has the people's love To many proved, which fills their swelling sails With favoring breeze, and bears them out to sea; But soon its vigor languishes and dies,880 And leaves them to the mercy of the deep. The wretched mother of the Gracchi wept Her murdered sons, who, though of noble blood, Far famed for eloquence and piety,885 Stout-hearted, learnéd in defense of law, Were brought to ruin by the people's love And popular renown. And Livius, thee To equal fate did fickle fortune give, Who found no safety in thy lictors' rods, No refuge in thy home. But grief forbids To tell more instances. This hapless girl,890 To whom but now the citizens decreed The restoration of her fatherland, Her home, her brother's couch, is dragged away In tears and misery to punishment, With citizens consenting to her death!895 Oh, blesséd poverty, content to hide Beneath the refuge of a lowly roof! For lofty homes, to fame and fortune known, By storms are blasted and by fate o'erthrown!
[Enter Octavia in the custody of the palace guards, who are dragging her roughly out into the street.]
Octavia: Oh, whither do ye hurry me? What fate Has that vile tyrant or his queen ordained?900 Does she, subdued and softened by my woes, Grant me to live in exile? Or, if not, If she intends to crown my sufferings With death, why does her savage heart begrudge That I should die at home? But now, alas,905 I can no longer hope for life; behold, My brother's bark, within whose treacherous hold His mother once was borne; and now for me, Poor wretch, his slighted sister-wife, it waits.910 No more has right a place upon the earth, Nor heavenly gods. Grim Fury reigns supreme. Oh, who can fitly weep my evil plight? What nightingale has tongue to sing my woes?915 Would that the fates would grant her wings to me! Then would I speed away on pinions swift, And leave my grievous troubles far behind, Leave these unholy haunts of savage men.920 There, all alone, within some forest wide, Among the swaying branches would I sit, And let my grieving spirit weep its fill. Chorus: The race of men is by the fates controlled, And none may hope to make his own secure;925 And o'er the ever-shifting ways of life The day which most we fear shall come to us. But comfort now thy heart with thought of those Of thine own house who suffered ill, and ask:930 In what has fortune been more harsh to thee? Thee first I name, Agrippa's noble child, The famous mother of so many sons, Great Caesar's wife, whose name throughout the world935 In flaming glory shone, whose teeming womb Brought forth so many hostages of peace: E'en thee did exile wait, and cruel chains, Blows, bitter anguish, and at last a death940 Of lingering agony. And Livia, thou, Though fortunate in husband and in sons, Didst walk the way of sin—and punishment. And Julia, too, endured her mother's fate; For, though no evil deed was charged to her,945 She fell a victim to the sword at last. What could not once thy mighty mother do Who ruled supreme the house of Claudius, By him beloved, and in her son secure? Yet she at last was subject to a slave,950 And fell beneath a brutal soldier's sword. For what exalted heights of royalty Might not our Nero's mother once have hoped? Mishandled first by vulgar sailors' hands,955 Then slain and mangled by the bungling sword, She lay the victim of her cruel son. Octavia: Me, too, the tyrant to the world of shades Is sending. Why delay? Then speed my death,960 For fate hath made me subject to your power. I pray the heavenly gods—what wouldst thou, fool? Pray not to gods who show their scorn of thee. But, O ye gods of hell, ye furies dire,965 Who work your vengeance on the crimes of men, And thou, my father's restless spirit, come And bring this tyrant fitting punishment. [To her guards.] The death you threaten has no terrors now For me. Go, set your ship in readiness,970 Unfurl your sails, and let your pilot seek The barren shores of Pandataria. [Exit Octavia with guards.] Chorus: Ye gentle breezes and ye zephyrs mild, Which once from savage Dian's altar bore975 Atrides' daughter in a cloud concealed, This child of ours, Octavia too, we pray, Bear far away from these too cruel woes, And set her in the fane of Trivia. For Aulis is more merciful than Rome, The savage Taurian land more mild than this:980 There hapless strangers to their gods they feed, But Rome delights to see her children bleed.