Servius, aroused by the alarming announcement, having come upon the scene during this harangue, immediately shouted with a loud voice from the porch of the senate-house: “What means this, Tarquin? By what audacity hast thou dared to summon the fathers, while I am still alive, or to sit on my throne?” When the other haughtily replied, that he, a king’s son, was occupying the throne of his father, a much fitter successor to the throne than a slave; that he had insulted his masters full long enough by shuffling insolence, a shout arose from the partisans of both, the people rushed into the senate-house, and it was evident that whoever came off victor would gain the throne. Then Tarquin, forced by actual necessity to proceed to extremities, having a decided advantage both in years and strength, seized Servius by the waist, and having carried him out of the senate-house, hurled him down the steps to the bottom. He then returned to the senate house to assemble the senate. The king’s officers and attendants took to flight. The king himself, almost lifeless (when he was returning home with his royal retinue frightened to death and had reached the top of the Cyprian Street), was slain by those who had been sent by Tarquin, and had overtaken him in his flight. As the act is not inconsistent with the rest of her atrocious conduct, it is believed to have been done by Tullia’s advice. Anyhow, as is generally admitted, driving into the forum in her chariot, unabashed by the crowd of men present, she called her husband out of the senate-house, and was the first to greet him, king; and when, being bidden by him to withdraw from such a tumult, she was returning home, and had reached the top of the Cyprian Street, where Diana’s chapel lately stood, as she was turning on the right to the Urian Hill, in order to ride up to the Esquiline, the driver stopped terrified, and drew in his reins, and pointed out to his mistress the body of the murdered Servius lying on the ground. On this occasion a revolting and inhuman crime is said to have been committed, and the place bears record of it. They call it the Wicked Street, where Tullia, frantic and urged on by the avenging furies of her sister and husband, is said to have driven her chariot over her father’s