ble, and dashed with
violence against the ground two favorite cups, which he called
Homer's, because some of that poet's verses were cut upon them. Then
taking from Locusta a dose of poison, which he put up in a golden box,
he went into the Servilian gardens, and thence dispatching a trusty
freedman to Ostia, with orders to make ready a fleet, he endeavored to
prevail with some tribunes and centurions of the praetorian guards to
attend him in his flight; but part of them showing no great
inclination to comply, others absolutely refusing, and one of them
crying out aloud,

"Say, is it then so sad a thing to die?"

he was in great perplexity whether he should submit himself to
Galba,[156] or apply to the Parthians for protection, or else appear
before the people drest in mourning, and, upon the rostra, in the most
piteous manner, beg pardon for his past misdemeanors, and, if he could
not prevail, request of them to grant him at least the government of
Egypt. A speech to this purpose was afterward found in his
writing-case. But it is conjectured that he durst not venture upon
this project, for fear of being torn to pieces, before he could get to
the forum.

Deferring, therefore, his resolution until the next day, he awoke
about midnight, and finding the guards withdrawn, he leapt out of bed,
and sent round for his friends. But none of them vouchsafing any
message in reply, he went with a few attendants to their houses. The
doors being everywhere shut, and no one giving him any answer, he
returned to his bed-chamber; whence those who had the charge of it had
all now eloped; some having gone one way, and some another, carrying
off with them his bedding and box of poison. He then endeavored to
find Spicillus, the gladiator, or some one to kill him; but not being
able to procure any one, "What!" said he, "have I then neither friend
nor foe?" and immediately ran out, as if he would throw himself into
the Tiber.

But this furious impulse subsiding, he wished for some place of
privacy, where he might collect his thoughts; and his freedman Phaon
offering him his country-house, between the Salarian and Nomentan
roads, about four miles from the city, he mounted a horse, barefoot as
he was, and in his tunic, only slipping over it an old soiled cloak;
with his head muffled up, and a handkerchief before his face, and four
persons only to attend him, of whom Sporus was one. He was suddenly
struck with horror by an earthquake,