Sosib. [Aside.] What can she mean? She neither kills, nor saves.
[Exit Sosibius.
Cas. Now tell me, heart, now answer for thyself!
What wilt thou do, and what dost thou desire?—
His life? No, he's ungrateful; or, his death?
I tremble at that word.—What then? His love!—
His love! my heart. What! by restraint and famine?
Are these the means to compass thy design?—
Revenge! My hand's so soft, his heart so hard,
The blow recoils, and hurts me while I strike.