But forward marks, wounds on my breast and face,
   Were meant to thee, O Caesar, and thy Rome? 
   And have I this return! did I, for this,
   Perform so noble and so brave defeat
   On Sacrovir!  O Jove, let it become me
   To boast my deeds, when he whom they concern,
   Shall thus forget them.

Afer. 
   Silius, Silius,
   These are the common customs of thy blood,
   When it is high with wine, as now with rage: 
   This well agrees with that intemperate vaunt,
   Thou lately mad’st at Agrippina’s table,
   That, when all other of the troops were prone
   To fall into rebellion, only thine
   Remain’d in their obedience.  Thou wert he
   That saved the empire, which had then been lost
   Had but thy legions, there, rebell’d, or mutined;
   Thy virtue met, and fronted every peril. 
   Thou gav’st to Caesar, and to Rome their surety;
   Their name, their strength, their spirit, and their state,
   Their being was a donative from thee.

Arr.  Well worded, and most like an orator.

Tib.  Is this true, Silius?

Sil. 
   Save thy question, Caesar;
   Thy spy of famous credit hath affirm’d it.

Arr.  Excellent Roman!

Sab.  He doth answer stoutly.

Sej. 
   If this be so, there needs no farther cause
   Of crime against him.

Var. 
   What can more impeach
   The royal dignity and state of Caesar,
   Than to be urged with a benefit He cannot pay?

Cot. 
   In this, all Ceesar’s fortune
   Is made unequal to the courtesy.

Lat.  His means are clean destroyed that should requite.

Gal.  Nothing is great enough for Silius’ merit.

Arr.  Gallus on that side too! [Aside.

Sil. 
   Come, do not hunt,
   And labour so about for circumstance,
   To make him guilty whom you have foredoom’d: 
   Take shorter ways, I’ll meet your purposes. 
   The words were mine, and more I now will say: 
   Since I have done thee that great service, Caesar,
   Thou still hast fear’d me; and in place of grace,
   Return’d me hatred:  so soon all best turns,
   With doubtful princes, turn deep injuries
   In estimation, when they greater rise
   Than can be answer’d.  Benefits, with you,
   Are of no longer pleasure, than you can
   With ease restore them; that transcended once,
   Your studies are not how to thank, but kill. 
   It is your nature, to have all men slaves
   To you, but you acknowledging to none. 
   The means that make your greatness, must not come
   In mention of it; if it do, it takes
   So much away, you think:  and that which help’d,
   Shall soonest perish, if it stand in eye,
   Where it may front, or but upbraid the high.

Got.  Suffer him speak no more.

Var.  Note but his spirit.