Cornelia. Yes, news of Cæsar's death that med'cine bears.
Philip. Madam, beware; for, should he hear of this,
His wrath against you 'twill exasperate.
Cornelia. I neither stand in fear of him nor his.
Philip. 'Tis policy to fear a powerful hate.
Cornelia. What can he do?
Philip. Madam, what cannot men,
That have the power to do what pleaseth them?
Cornelia. He can do me no mischief that I dread.
Philip. Yes, cause your death.
Cornelia. Thrice happy, were I dead.
Philip. With rigorous torments.