insults to the Imperial Majesty, and promise not to repeat them?
FAITH. Why now?
ANTIOCHUS. The scourging should have brought you to your senses.
FAITH. These whips cannot silence me, as they do not hurt at all.
ANTIOCHUS. Cursed obstinacy! Was there ever such insolence?
HADRIAN. Although her body weakens under the chastisement, her spirit is still swollen with pride.
FAITH. Hadrian, you are wrong. It is not I who am weakening, but your executioners. They sweat and faint with fatigue.
HADRIAN. Antiochus, tell them to cut the nipples off her breasts. The shame will cow her.
ANTIOCHUS. I care not about the means, so long as she is forced to yield.
FAITH. You have wounded my pure breast, but you have not hurt me. And look! Instead of blood a stream of milk gushes from my wounds.
HADRIAN. Put her on a gridiron, and let fire be placed beneath so that she may be roasted to death.
ANTIOCHUS. She deserves a terrible death for her boldness in defying you.
FAITH. All you do to cause me suffering is a source of bliss to me. I am as happy on this gridiron as if it were a little boat at sea!
