_Phid._ That little meat and means we have, we'll share it, Fear not to be as we are; what we told ye, Were but meer tryals of your truth: y'are worthy, And so we'll ever hold ye; suffer better, And then you are a right Man, _Pontius_, If my good Master be not ever angry, Ye shall command again. _Pont._ I have found two good men: use my life, For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye-- [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Maximus. _Max._ There's no way else to do it, he must dye, This friend must dye, this soul of _Maximus_, Without whom I am nothing but my shame, This perfectness that keeps me from opinion, Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever: A hard choice, and a fatal; Gods ye have given me A way to credit, but the ground to go on, Ye have levell'd with that precious life I love most, Yet I must on, and through, for if I offer To take my way without him, like a Sea He bears his high Command 'twixt me and vengeance, And in mine own road sinks me, he is honest, Of a most constant loyalty to _Cæsar_, And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him, But make a question of his ill, but say What is a _Cæsar_, that he dare do this, Dead sure he cuts me off; _Æcius_ dyes, Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him? Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing, _Æcius_ is my root, and wither him, Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing. Is he not more to me than Wife, than _Cæsar_? Though I had now my safe revenge upon him, Is he not more than rumour, and his friendship Sweeter than the love of women? what is honour We all so strangely are bewitch'd withal? Can it relieve me if I want? he has; Can honour 'twixt the incensed Prince and Envy, Bear up the lives of worthy men? he has; Can honour pull the wings of fearful Cowards, And make 'em turn again like Tigers? he has; And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so: Why should this empty word incite me then To what is ill and cruel? let her perish. A friend is more than all the world, than honour; She is a woman and her loss the less, And with her go my griefs; but hark ye _Maximus_, Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye She was a ravish'd woman? Did not Justice Nobly begin with her that not deserv'd it, And shall he live that did it? Stay a little, Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues Dispute it afterward, and say I gave (Affecting dull obedience, and tame duty, And led away with fondness of a friendship) The only vertue of the world to slander? Is not this certain, was not she a chaste one, And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her, One of so sweet a vertue that _Æcius_, Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it, Out of his worthy love to me, and justice,