Not for hate or love.
Death was the lot God bade him draw, if God
Be more than what we make him.
ALEXANDER
Bread and wine
Could hardly turn so bitter. Canst thou sleep?
CÆSAR
Dost thou not? Flesh must sleep to live. Am I
No son of thine?
ALEXANDER
I would I saw thine end,
And mine: and yet I would not.
CÆSAR
Sire, good night.
[Exeunt