Tig.She is dead. (They carry Epicharis out.)
Ner.Rufus, proceed
With thy centurion.
Asp.If all hate thee, Cæsar,
How wilt thou bid that hater question this?
Ruf. What, fellow?
Asp.Thou that sittest there to judge,
And shouldst stand here, wilt thou dare question me?
Ruf. I, fellow?
Ner.Ha! Rufus, thou turnest pale.