Cæsar. Thou hast said it.
Alex. Dost thou think
To live, and look upon me?
Cæsar. Some while yet.
Alex. I would there were a God—that he might hear.
Cæsar. 'Tis pity there should be—for thy sake—none.
Alex. Wilt thou slay me?
Cæsar. Why?
Alex. Am I not thy sire?
Cæsar. And Christendom's to boot.