tude in entertaining his
mother. If she were absent he feigned to miss her sorely, and if she were
present he was lavish of caresses. He bade her ask whatever she desired
and bestowed many gifts without her asking. When he had shaped the
situation to this extent [Footnote: Adopting Reiske's conjecture,
_nv_.], then rising from dinner about midnight he embraced her, and
straining her to his breast kissed her eyes and hands, exclaiming:
"Mother, farewell, and happiness attend you! For you I live and because of
you I rule." He then gave her in charge of Anicetus, a freedman,
supposedly to convey her home on the ship that he had prepared.

But the sea would not endure the tragedy about to be enacted on it nor
would it submit to assume responsibility for the deception wrought by the
monstrous contrivance: therefore, though the ship parted asunder and
Agrippina fell into the water, she did not perish. In spite of the fact
that it was dark and she was full of strong drink and that the sailors
used their oar blades on her, so much so that they killed Acerronia Polla,
her fellow voyager, she nevertheless saved her life and reached home.
Thereupon she affected not to realize that it was a plot and let not a
word of it be known, but sent speedily to her son an account of the
occurrence with the implication that it had happened by accident, and
conveyed to him the good news (as she assumed it to be) that she was safe.
Nero hearing this could not endure the unexpected outcome but punished the
messenger as savagely as if he had come to assassinate him, and at once
despatched Anicetus with the sailors to make an end of his mother. He
would not entrust the killing of her to the Pretorians. When she saw them,
she knew for what they had come, and leaping from her bed tore open her
clothing; exposing her abdomen, and cried out: "Strike here, Anicetus,
strike here, for this bore Nero!"

[Sidenote:--14--] Thus was Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus, grandchild of
Agrippa, descendant of Augustus, slain by the very son to whom she had
given the sovereignty and for whose sake she had killed her uncle and
others. Nero when informed that she was dead would not believe it, for the
monstrousness of his bold deed plunged him in doubts; therefore he desired
to behold the victim with his own eyes. So he laid bare her body, looked
her all over and inspected her wounds, finally uttering a remark far more
abominable even than the crime. What he said was: