_Piso_. O be it farre that I should staine my Table And Gods of Hospitalitie with blood. Let not our cause (now Innocent) be soyld With such a plot, nor _Pisoes_ name made hatefull. What place can better fit our action Then his owne house, that boundlesse envied heape Built with the spoyles and blood of Cittizens, That hath taken up the Citie, left no roome For _Rome_ to stand on? _Romanes_ get you gone And dwell at _Veiae_, if that _Veiae_ too This (His?) house ore runne not.[33] _Lucan_. But twill be hard to doe it in his house And harder to escape, being done. _Piso_. Not so: _Rufus_, the Captaine of the Guard, 's with us, And divers other oth' _Praetorian_ band Already made (named?); many, though unacquainted With our intents, have had disgrace and wrongs Which grieve them still; most will be glad of change, And even they that lov'd him best, when once They see him gone, will smile oth' comming times, Let goe things past and looke to their owne safetie: Besides, th'astonishment and feare will be So great, so sodaine that 'twill hinder them From doing anything. _Mili_. No private businesse can concerne them all: (_aside_) Their countenances are troubled and looke sad; Doubt and importance in their face is read. _Lucan_. Yet still, I think it were Safer t'attempt him private and alone. _Flav_. But 'twill not carry that opinion with it; 'Twill seeme more foule and come from private malice. _Brutus_ and they, to right the common cause, Did chuse a publike place. _Scevin_.[34] Our deed is honest, why should it seeke corners? Tis for the people done, let them behold it; Let me have them a witnesse of my truth And love to th'Common-wealth. The danger's greater, So is the glory. Why should our pale counsels Tend whether feare rather then vertue calls them? I doe not like these cold considerings. First let our thoughts looke up to what is honest, Next to what's safe. If danger may deterre us Nothing that's great or good shall ere be done: And, when we first gave hands upon this deed, To th'common safetie we our owne gave up. Let no man venture on a princes death, How bad soever, with beliefe to escape; Dispaire must be our hope, fame o[u]r reward. To make the generall liking to concurre With others (ours?) were even to strike him in his shame Or (as he thinks) his glory, on the stage, And so too truly make't a Tragedy; When all the people cannot chuse but clap So sweet a close, and 'twill not _Caesar_ be That shall be slaine, a _Roman_ Prince; Twill be _Alcmaeon_ or blind Oedipus. _Mili_. And if it be of publique matters 'tis not (_aside_) Like to be talke or idle fault finding, On which the coward onely spends his wisedome: These are all men of action and of spirit, And dare performe what they determine on. _Lucan_. What thinke you of _Poppaea, Tigellinus_ And th'other odious Instruments of Court? Were it not best at once to rid them all?