In Cæsar’s judgment, not subdued by arms,
Nor yet by siege. O base, unmanly slaves!
Your former master dead, go to his heir!
Why will you not earn more than life and more
Than pardon? Let great Pompey’s wretched wife
And let Metellus’ offspring o’er the waves
Be borne in chains; take captive Pompey’s sons;
Let Ptolemy’s deserts be less than yours!
My own head, too, whoever brings and gives
The hateful tyrant, reaps no mean reward.