Ful. Away!—thou wilt repent.
Caius. No more of this, for I will know.
Ful. Thou wilt?
Ask then thy sister.
Caius. (alone.) Ask my sister! What!
Is she a murderess? Hath my sister slain
Her lord? Oh! crime of darkest dye! Oh! name
Till now unstain’d, name of the Gracchi, thus
Consign’d to infamy!—to infamy?
The very hair doth rise upon my head,