Indeed, Theodat, I doubt you have truly contemplated your actions. Is it possible that having bestowed upon you a grand kingdom, making you ruler of the Ostrogoths and all of Italy, you would exile me to this tiny island of Martana, situated in the midst of a lake, barely enough space for a small castle to stand? No, Theodat, let us not mask the truth. The site of my banishment could more fittingly be called my prison, or even my tomb. Perhaps I will encounter my executioners where I expect to meet my guards, and it might even be that you find my speech tiresome merely because it delays your plan for my demise. However, it is not too late for you to abandon the crime you are on the verge of committing. Contemplate the path you are about to tread, Theodat. My death might equally cost you your life. Rather, make your name immortal through gratitude and not ingratitude. Do not open your reign with an injustice but let this be an opportunity for you to adopt a better intent. Remember, if I did not want you to rule, I would not have made you king. It is hard to believe that I would have elevated you to the throne only to thrust you into the abyss. So, what do you fear from me? Or rather, what should you not fear if you exile me? Do you think that the Ostrogoths and the Italians will tolerate the ill-favored treatment of Theodoric's daughter by a man they already loathed when he was of equal rank with them? Their concealed hatred for you will burst forth the moment they find a pretext. They will seek to avenge my insult and to retaliate for themselves. Thus, without me directly participating in your downfall, my fate will topple the throne on which I have placed you. 

The affront you commit doesn't only harm me. All the kings of the earth should be concerned. And you have neighbors who, under the pretext of protecting my innocence or avenging my death, will invade part of your domains. If fate had dealt me a different hand, if I had lost the throne in some other way, if my subjects had rebelled, if Emperor Justinian waged war on me, if Belisarius had defeated me, or if a conqueror usurped my kingdom, I could console myself with greater ease. But to realize that, by my own hand, I tore off the crown to give it to my tormentor is what truly tests my fortitude and honor. What, Theodat! Can you see me, at the foot of the same throne where not long ago you stood, both as a loyal subject and a complainant? Can you see me here, unjustly condemned to perpetual exile, having committed no crime in my life other than bestowing upon you sovereignty? Perhaps this is how the heavens punish me for my choice, so that all the injustices you will commit are avenged on me, and I taste firsthand what you will surely make others taste? Nevertheless, since my intentions were sincere, I cannot feel remorse for what I have done for you. However, being wise enough to not regret a good deed, be just enough to rectify your ill intent. And if not for my sake, do it for your own. Ingratitude is a flaw that, seen on a throne, only engenders monsters.

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