PHILIP. "Time calmeth all things." CORNELIA. No time qualifies My doleful spirit's endless miseries. My grief is like a rock, whence ceaseless strain Fresh springs of water at my weeping eyes, Still fed by thoughts, like floods with winter's rain: For when, to ease th' oppression of my heart, I breathe an autumn forth of fiery sighs, Yet herewithal my passion neither dies, Nor dries the heat the moisture of mine eyes. PHILIP. Can nothing then recure these endless tears? CORNELIA. Yes, news of Cæsar's death that med'cine bears. PHILIP. Madam, beware; for, should he hear of this, His wrath against you 'twill exasperate. CORNELIA. I neither stand in fear of him nor his. PHILIP. 'Tis policy to fear a powerful hate. CORNELIA. What can he do? PHILIP. Madam, what cannot men, That have the power to do what pleaseth them? CORNELIA. He can do me no mischief that I dread. PHILIP. Yes, cause your death. CORNELIA. Thrice happy, were I dead. PHILIP. With rigorous torments. CORNELIA. Let him torture me, Pull me in pieces, famish, fire me up, Fling me alive into a lion's den: There is no death so hard torments me so, As his extreme triumphing in our woe. But if he will torment me, let him then Deprive me wholly of the hope of death; For I had died before the fall of Rome, And slept with Pompey in the peaceful deeps, Save that I live in hope to see, ere long, That Cæsar's death shall satisfy his wrong. [_Exeunt._