_Fred._ 'Tis healthful. _John._ Will not you stir? _Fred._ I have a little business. _Joh._ Upon my life this Lady still-- _Fred._ Then you will lose it. _John._ 'Pray let's walk together. _Fred._ Now I cannot. _John._ I have something to impart. _Fred._ An hour hence I will not miss to meet you. _John._ Where? _Fred._ I'th' high street; For not to lie, I have a few Devotions To do first, then I am yours. _John._ Remember. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ Petruchio, Antonio, _and two Gentlemen_. _Ant._ Cut his wind-pipe I say. _1 Gent._ Fye, _Antonio_. _Ant._ Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive him, If you do thrust, be sure it be to th'hilts, A Surgeon may see through him. _1 Gent._ You are too violent. _2 Gent._ Too open undiscreet. _Pet._ Am I not ruin'd? The honour of my house crack'd? my bloud poyson'd? My Credit and my Name? _2 Gent._ Be sure it be so, Before ye use this violence: Let not doubt, And a suspecting anger so much sway ye, Your wisedom may be question'd. _Ant._ I say kill him, And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be, And what is shall be safe. _2 Gent._ Hang up a true man, Because 'tis possible he may be thievish! Alas, is this good Justice? _Pet._ I know as certain As day must come again, as clear as truth, And open as belief can lay it to me, That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence; Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever In name and honour, lost to all remembrance, But what is smear'd, and shameful; I must kill him, Necessity compells me. _1 Gent._ But think better. _Pet._ There is no other cure left; yet witness with me, All that is fair in man, all that is noble, I am not greedy of this life I seek for, Nor thirst to shed mans blood, and would 'twere possible, I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble To offend the sacred Image of my Maker, My Sword could only kill his Crimes; no, 'tis Honour, Honour, my noble friends, that Idol, Honour, That all the world now worships, not _Petruchio_ Must do this Justice. _Ant._ Let it once be done, And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour, Or both, be accessary. _2 Gent._ Do you weigh, _Petruchio_, The value of the person, power, and greatness, And what this spark may kindle? _Pet._ To perform it, So much I am ty'd to Reputation, And Credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires, That all this Dukedom smoak, and storms that toss me Into the waves of everlasting ruine, Yet I must through; if ye dare side me. _Ant._ Dare? _Pet._ Y'are friends indeed, if not. _2 Gent._ Here's none flyes from you, Do it in what design ye please, we'll back ye. _1 Gent._ But then be sure ye kill him.