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nicety, would fail of success on our theatre, and that for a very obvious reason. Actors (I speak of the troop collectively) must all learn to speak as well as act, in order to do justice to such a drama.
But let me hasten to give the reader what little insight I can into Mr. Gray's plan, as I find, and select it from two detached papers. The title and Dramatis Personæ are as follow:
AGRIPPINA, A TRAGEDY.
AGRIPPINA, the Empress mother.
NERO, the Emperor.
POPPAA, believed to be in love with OтHO.
Отно, a young man of quality, in love with POPPEA.
SENECA, the Emperor's preceptor.
ANICETUS, Captain of the guards.
DEMETRIUS, the Cynic, friend to SENECA.
SCENE, the Emperor's villa at BAIE.
The argument drawn out by him, in these two papers, under the idea of a plot and under-plot, I shall here unite; as it will tend to shew that the action itself was possest of sufficient unity.
The drama opens with the indignation of Agrippina, at receiving her son's orders from Anicetus to remove from Baiæ, and to have her guard taken from her. At this time Otho, having conveyed Poppea from the house of her husband Rufus Crispinus, brings her to Baiæ, where he means to conceal her among the crowd; or, if his fraud is discovered, to have recourse to the Emperor's authority; but knowing the lawless temper of Nero, he determines not to have recourse to that expedient, but on the utmost necessity. In the mean time he commits her to the care of Anicetus, whom he takes to be his friend, and in whose age he thinks he may safely confide. Nero is not yet come to Baiæ; but Seneca, whom he sends before him, informs Agrippina of the accusation concerning Rubellius Plancus, and desires
her to clear herself, which she does briefly; but demands to see her son, who, on his arrival, acquits her of all suspicion, and restores her to her honours. In the mean while Anicetus, to whose care Poppaa had been intrusted by Otho, contrives the following plot to ruin Agrippina he betrays his trust to Otho, and brings Nero, as it were by chance, to the sight of the beautiful Poppaa; the Emperor is immediately struck with her charms, and she, by a feigned resistance, increases his passion; though in reality, she is from the first dazzled with the prospect of empire, and forgets Otho: she therefore joins with Anicetus in his design of ruining Agrippina, soon perceiving that it will be for her interest. Otho hearing that the Emperor had seen Poppaa, is much enraged; but not knowing that this interview was obtained through the treachery of Anicetus, is readily persuaded by him to see Agrippina in secret, and acquaint her with his fears that her son Nero would marry Poppaa. Agrippina, to support her own power, and to wean the Emperor from the love of Poppaa, gives Otho encouragement, and promises to support him. Anicetus secretly introduces Nero to hear their discourse; who resolves immediately on his mother's death, and, by Anicetus's means, to destroy her by drowning. A solemn feast, in honour of their reconciliation, is to be made; after which she being to go by sea to Bauli, the ship is so contrived as to sink or crush her; she escapes by accident, and returns to Baiæ. In this interval, Otho has an interview with Poppaa, and being duped a second time by Anicetus and her, determines to fly with her into Greece, by means of a vessel which is to be furnished by Anicetus; but he, pretending to remove Poppea on board in the night, conveys her to Nero's apartment: she there encourages and determines Nero to banish Otho, and finish the horrid deed he had attempted on his mother. Anicetus under
takes to execute his resolves; and, under pretence of a plot upon the Emperor's life, is sent with a guard to murder Agrippina, who is still at Baiæ in imminent fear, and irresolute how to conduct herself. The account of her death, and the Emperor's horror and fruitless remorse, finishes the drama.
I refer the reader to the 13th and 14th books of the annals of Tacitus for the facts on which this story is founded by turning to that author, he will easily see how far the poet thought it necessary to deviate from the truth of history. I shall only further observe, that as such a fable could not possibly admit of any good character, it is terror only, and not pity that could be excited by this tragedy, had it been completed. Yet it was surely capable of exciting this passion in a supreme degree; if, what the critics tell us be true, that crimes, which illustrious persons commit, affect us from the very circumstance of their rank, because we unite with that our fears for the public weal.
ACT I. SCENE I.
'Tis well, begone! your errand is perform'd:
And would have drop'd, but that her pride restrain'd it?
And please the stripling. Yet 'twould dash his joy
Yet walks on earth; at least there are who know
A thousand haughty hearts, unus'd to shake
His hospitable board: they are aware
Of th' unpledg'd bowl, they love not Aconite.
He's gone; and much I hope these walls alone,
And dost thou talk to me, to me, of danger,
Of flattery's incense, and obsequious vows
Deck'd with no other lustre, than the blood
To fame or fortune; haply eyed at distance
To judge of weights, and measures; scarcely dar'd
High as the consulate, that empty shade
Oped his young eye to bear the blaze of greatness;
To shrink from danger; fear might then have worn
The mask of prudence: but a heart like mine,
A heart that glows with the pure Julian fire,
If bright ambition from her craggy seat
Thro' various life I have pursued your steps,
Have seen your soul, and wonder'd at its daring:
I well remember too (for I was present)
Perish (you cry'd) the mother! reign the son!
As unrequited wrongs. The willing homage
Thus ever grave and undisturb'd reflection
The silken son of dalliance, nurs'd in Ease
Did I not wish to check this dangerous passion,
That in Armenia quell the Parthian force
Mark'd for their leader: these by ties confirm'd,