Her mouth is; and too well, too well I know
Her face is dazzling as a funeral flame
Battened on queen’s flesh!
(Turning angrily from window.)
Oh the blatant shame!
The bungling drunkard’s plot!—Tonight, tonight
I shall swoop down upon them by the light
Of naked steel! Faugh! Had it come to that?
Had Rome no sword, that like a drowning rat
The mother of a king should meet her end?