What Gallic legion would not call me friend?
Did they not love Germanicus, my sire?
Oh, I will rouse the cohorts, scattering fire
Till all Rome blaze rebellion!
(She has advanced to a place beside the couch, stands in a defiant attitude for a moment, then covers her face with her hands and sinks to the couch.)
No, no, no—
It could not be, I would not have it so!
Not mine to burn the tower my hands have built!
And somewhere ‘mid the shadows of his guilt
My son is good.