The sharp blade, as she tried to seize it, accidentally grazed her hand--I know not how--only the skin was slightly cut.

Yet what a scream she gave over the wound which the son had given his mother! Julia Maesa, her daughter Mammara, and the other women, rushed in.

How they exaggerated! They made a river out of every drop of blood.
"So the dreadful deed was done; and yet, had I let the wretch live, I should have been a traitor to Rome, to myself, and to my father's life's work.

That day, for the first time, I was ruler of the world.

Those who accuse me of fratricide no doubt believe themselves to be right.