Caius Gracchus you have murdered.

Marcus Drusus you have murdered.

Ten thousand good men has your creature Sulla murdered.
Without trial, without defence, were the friends of Catilina murdered.
And now will ye add one more deed of blood to those going before?
Will ye strike down an inviolate tribune, in Rome,--in the shadow of the very Curia?
Ah! days of the Decemvirs, when an evil Ten ruled over the state--would that those days might return! Not ten tyrants but a thousand oppress us now! Then despotism wore no cloak of patriotism or legal right, but walked unmasked in all its blackness! "Hearken, ye senators, and in the evil days to come, remember all I say.

Out of the seed which ye sow this hour come wars, civil wars; Roman against Roman, kinsman against kinsman, brother against brother! There comes impiety, violence, cruelty, bloodshed, anarchy! There comes the destruction of the old; there comes the birth, amid pain and anguish, of the new! Ye who grasp at money, at power, at high office; who trample on truth and right to serve your selfish ends; false, degenerate Romans,--one thing can wipe away your crimes--" "What ?" shouted Cato, across the senate-house; while Pompeius, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, had turned very red.
"Blood!" cried back Antonius, carried away by the frenzy of his own invective; then, shooting a lightning glance over the awe-struck Senate, he spoke as though gifted with some terrible prophetic omniscience.

"Pompeius Magnus, the day of your prosperity is past--prepare ingloriously to die! Lentulus Crus, you, too, shall pay the forfeit of your crimes! Metellus Scipio, Marcus Cato, Lucius Domitius, within five years shall you all be dead--dead and with infamy upon your names! Your blood, your blood shall wipe away your folly and your lust for power.