You think me evil? I think so of you.
Before you captured me I was the queen
of Goths, and there I was no lady, but
a woman. None would dare to make me beg
for my son's life, but then they knew enough
to fear a mother's wrath.
                                So what, you ask,
of sweet Lavinia? Her mother's dead
and you're a heartless wretch. Did her spilled blood
make you weep in wonder? Ha! Now you know
what this barbaric heart felt. Yes, she begged
for mercy, just as I had, and I thought
a moment on her fate, but then she cried