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17 Britannicus On the eve of Saturnalia his melancholy strains had stirred the drunken mob But words failed him then his spasms on the white alabaster floor soon ended He shall never again roll dice against his elder brother “He shall come to soon enough!” Nero declared with imperial fluency The mother of the murderer and his victim had lost all He had been poisoned before everyone’s eyes to the right of the holy relics He died without giving his sister a farewell kiss and lay thus in the banquet hall After a brief silence everyone dug into their food again ...

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