_AGRIPPINA_: I have come from the lower world to this wicked bridal, carrying the Stygian torch in my blood-stained hand. Poppaea as a bride veils herself with these fires of passion which my vengeance and anguish will turn to bitter destruction. Even among the shades, the memory of my unnatural murder haunts me, and I am oppressed by my unavenged spirit. Deservedly I recall the deadly reward of the ship, the recompense for my ambition, and the night when I deplored my shipwreck. I had vowed to lament the violent death of my companions and my son’s cruel crime--he gave me no opportunity to weep but repeated his wicked crime. Saved from a watery grave, slain by the sword, defiled by wounds, among my own household gods, I breathed my last, nor did I quench with my blood my son’s hatred. The fierce tyrant rages at the very name of mother. He desires to forget benefits; he destroys his mother’s statues and titles of honor throughout the entire empire which her ill-fated love gave to him to control for her punishment. My murdered husband disturbs and threatens me even after my death, and with flames seeks my hated features. He approaches and menaces me; he imputes to me his son’s death and cenotaph; he demands the assassin’s punishment. Cease thy entreaties. Expiation will soon be made. Avenging Erinys prepare for the impious tyrant the lash, disgraceful flight, a worthy death, and punishments which surpass the thirst of Tantalus,[77] the dreadful labor of Sisyphus,[78] the bird of Tityos,[79] and the wheel that whirls the body of Ixion.[80] Although the haughty tyrant may fill the hall with marble statues and cover it with gold,[81] although an exhausted world may send riches, although the suppliant Parthians may bow before his blood-stained hands,[82] although empires may bestow their treasures, yet the day will come when abandoned, ruined, and deprived of everything, he will turn his wicked thoughts to his own crimes and surrender his life to his enemies.[83] Alas, how have my vows resulted? Whither have fury and the fates led thee, my son, that the wrath of thy mother who perished by thy crime may yield to such great misfortunes? Would that the savage wild beasts had torn my vitals before I brought thee, a little child, into the world and nourished thee. Would that guiltless and without consciousness, my son, thou hadst perished. Would that with me thou hadst seen the peaceful home of the lower world, thy father, and thy ancestors, men of great renown. Now disgrace and unending grief await them from thee, wicked son, and from me who gave birth to such a monster. Why do I hesitate to hide my face in Tartarus, stepmother, wife and parent who have brought misfortune to all my kinsfolk and friends?