LITMIR.BIZ

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(very gaily)

      I think that this time, for sure, I don’t have long to live.

      (They all leave)

      PROCULUS

      Yet another conspiracy. More work for the executioners of Tiberius.

      (looking toward Nerva’s palace)

      May thunder at least spare that house! Here’s your day over, poor artisan. Rest your weary eyes by the chimney of the workshop. Come savor a moment of air passing through these trees. Especially come, motionless, silently, dazzled—admirer of the shining vision which fills your thoughts and burns your heart. Will the young patrician emerge tonight?

      (Romulus enters joyfully and strikes him on the shoulder.)

      ROMULUS

      Good evening, Barbarian!

      PROCULUS

      Ah!

      (getting hold of himself)

      Good evening, friend Romulus.

      ROMULUS

      Your friend. Still, it’s true. To say that I, Romulus, Citizen of Rome, I, who descend directly from Pasiphae, the Mother of the Minotaur, am the friend of a Barbarian—

      PROCULUS

      You, you stoop—?

      ROMULUS

      Ah, so much the worse! I am not proud and I give you my hand willingly.

      PROCULUS

      And I shake it the same way.

      ROMULUS

      Poor Procula! Truly, you are not humiliated by your condition? Thus, you don’t even know where you were born; you are not sure if you are a Gaul, a German or a Spaniard?

      PROCULUS

      I don’t know. The secret of my birth belongs to Lord Nerva, who raised me with his slaves.

      PROCULUS

      And you’ve never asked him this secret?

      PROCULUS

      Never. He’s been good to me; as a child he let me open his books, admire his paintings, his statues, his mosaics; later he had me taught a trade, he gave me this shop at the gate of his palace. May the Gods reward him for it.

      ROMULUS

      To be a slave; to know nothing more.

      PROCULUS

      I know that I have a love, and that’s enough for me.

      ROMULUS

      To be freed so as to have to work to live!

      PROCULUS

      Work is a beautiful and holy thing which purifies the heart often and always raises it.

      ROMULUS

      For goodness sakes! Work degrades man! Is it possible not to be shamed by dirtying one’s hands handling tools? Scorn industry and commerce for those who, like me, have the honor of being citizens of Rome. It’s up to their Caesar to nourish them.

      PROCULUS

      Not very. I am furious with Tiberius!

      PROCULUS

      Truly!

      ROMULUS

      Tiberius is an old miser who doesn’t give the least largesse to the people of Rome. Would you believe it, it’s reached the point that I don’t have a copper in my pocket? I still need a little to purchase a new tunic.

      PROCULUS (smiling)

      Indeed.

      ROMULUS

      Moreover, I rented a room on the eighth floor in a suburb. The house was very ugly and the street very smelly. At night, you could hear the songs of singers and the howling of dogs. I was surrounded by whores, little Greeks, unemployed grammarians, beggars who spoiled sheep with garlic. I have for a neighbor a mountebank who contrived to cripple a little girl to make tours on the Sublicius bridge. In short, I was horribly bad, but I have simple tastes, and I contented myself with this modest support when my landlord, an Israelite merchant put me out the door—me, a citizen of Rome, because I hadn’t paid my rent. Now that’s what happens friend, under the reign of Tiberius.

      PROCULUS

      Ah, it’s intolerable!

      ROMULUS

      You laugh, yes, but I am very serious and will end by making Tiberius repent of his avarice. Because we are all powerful, the rest of us, the Citizens of Rome; it’s for us to enjoy everything without paying for anything! The Aediles owe us games, Triumphs, money; the Magistrates, wheat; when one is noble or knight they mock the little folk, these men in tunics, but come election day, these fine gentlemen all us by our names, press our hands, buy our votes; the Tribunes pay court to us, and the Caesars care for us. Thus we are like three hundred thousand stockholders at the expense of the state in the city of Rome.

      Do you imagine that, on the day we get angry, Tiberius won’t tremble in all his members?

      PROCULUS

      Friend, forget Tiberius who is stronger.

      ROMULUS

      As for me, I intend that he pay his debts. Augustus bequeathed to the Roman people 45 million sesterces in his will. Tiberius, his heir still owes them to us.

      (Procula turns and notices Kiomara, who stops with an old geezer she’s leading.)

      PROCULUS (pointing her out to Romulus)

      Silence.

      (Kiomara and the old man leave.)

      ROMULUS

      What’s wrong with you? There you are, troubled by two passers-by, crossing the square.

      PROCULUS (lowering his voice)

      Heavens, one more time: forget Tiberius and find another means to fill your empty pocket.

      ROMULUS

      Such as?

      PROCULUS

      Work for me as an apprentice.

      ROMULUS

      Hammers, filings, the stench of copper. Yuck! Won’t you ever understand the dignity of a Roman Citizen?

      PROCULUS

      Then let me loan you some money.

      ROMULUS

      To borrow from the purse of a barbarian!

      PROCULUS

      From that of a friend.

      ROMULUS

      My friendship doesn’t go that far.

      PROCULUS

      All the same—

      ROMULUS

      Don’t insist—you’ll insult me.

      ROMULUS

      At your ease, ragamuffin Lord.

      PROCULUS

      I am no less grateful, my dear friend. But, I’m not worried, go. Jupiter, who protects me, will end by sending me some good windfall.

      (Nerva emerges from his palace with Blandine and Chariclea.)

      PROCULUS

      Shut up!

      NERVA

      Blandine, my cherished daughter, go pray to the Gods of Rome that they render Rome glorious.

      BLANDINE (aside)

      The Gods of Rome!

      NERVA (low to Chariclea)

      Chariclea,

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