_Luci._ Ye speak well Sir; Would all the rest that serve the Emperour, Had but your way. _Claud._ And so they have _ad unguem_. _Luci._ Pray tell my Lord, I have receiv'd his Token, And will not fail to meet him; yet good Sir, thus much Before you goe, I do beseech ye too, As little notice as ye can, deliver Of my appearance there. _Eun._ It shall be _Madam_, And so I wish you happiness. _Luci._ I thank you-- [_Exeunt._ SCENE [III]. [_Tumult & noise within._ _Enter_ Æcius, _pursuing_ Pontius, _the Captain, and_ Maximus, _following_. _Max._ Temper your self _Æcius_. _Pon._ Hold my Lord, I am a _Roman_, and a Souldier. _Max._ Pray Sir. _Æci._ Thou art a lying Villain, and a Traytor; Give me my self, or by the Gods my friend You'l make me dangerous; how dar'st thou pluck The Souldiers to sedition, and I living, And sow Rebellion in 'em, and even then When I am drawing out to action? _Pon._ Hear me. _Max._ Are ye a man? _Æci._ I am a true hearted, _Maximus_, And if the Villain live, we are dishonour'd. _Max._ But hear him what he can say. _Æci._ That's the way, To pardon him; I am so easie natur'd, That if he speak but humbly I forgive him. _Pon._ I do beseech ye noble General. _Æci._ Has found the way already, give me room, One stroak, and if he scape me then h'as mercy. _Pon._ I do not call ye noble, that I fear ye, I never car'd for death; if ye will kill me, Consider first for what, not what you can do; 'Tis true, I know ye for my General, And by that great Prerogative may kill: But do it justly then. _Æci._ He argues with me, A made up Rebel. _Max._ Pray consider, What certain grounds ye have for this. _Æci._ What grounds? Did I not take him preaching to the Souldier[s] How lazily they liv'd, and what dishonours It was to serve a Prince so full of woman? Those were his very words, friend. _Max._ These, _Æcius_, Though they were rashly spoke, which was an errour (A great one _Pontius_) yet from him that hungers For wars, and brave imployment, might be pardon'd. The heart, and harbour'd thoughts of ill, make Traytors, Not spleeny speeches. _Æci._ Why should you protect him? Goe to, it shews not honest. _Max._ Taint me not, For that shews worse _Æcius_: All your friendship And that pretended love ye lay upon me, Hold back my honesty, is like a favour You do your slave to day, to morrow hang him, Was I your bosome piece for this?