Had it not been on _Cæsar_, had reveng'd her? He told me so; what shall I do then? _Enter a Servant._ Can other men affect it, and I cold? I fear he must not live. _Serv._ My Lord, the General Is come to seek ye. _Max._ Go, entreat him to enter; O brave _Æcius_, I could wish thee now As far from friendship to me, as from fears, That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not, Is there no way without him to come near it? For out of honesty he must destroy me If I attempt it, he must dye as others, And I must lose him; 'tis necessity, Only the time and means is the difference; But yet I would not make a murther of him, Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye, I have found a way to do it, and a safe one, It shall be honour to him too: I know not What to determine certain, I am so troubled, And such a deal of conscience presses me; _Enter_ Æcius. Would I were dead my self. _Æcius._ You run away well; How got you from me, friend? _Max._ That that leads mad men, A strong imagination made me wander. _Æcius._ I thought you had been more setled. _Max._ I am well, But you must give me leave a little sometimes To have a buzzing in my brains. _Æcius._ Ye are dangerous, But I'll prevent it if I can; ye told me You would go to th' Army. _Max._ Why, to have my throat cut? Must he not be the bravest man, _Æcius_, That strikes me first? _Æci._ You promised me a freedom From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you? _Max._ I am an Enemy, a wicked one, Worse than the foes of _Rome_, I am a Coward, A Cuckold, and a Coward, that's two causes Why every one should beat me. _Æci._ Ye are neither; And durst another tell me so, he dyed for't, For thus far on mine honour, I'le assure you No man more lov'd than you, and for your valour, And what ye may be, fair; no man more follow'd. _Max._ A doughty man indeed: but that's all one, The Emperour nor all the Princes living Shall find a flaw in my Coat; I have suffer'd, And can yet; let them find inflictions, I'le find a body for 'em, or I'le break it. 'Tis not a Wife can thrust me out, some look't for't; But let 'em look till they are blind with looking, They are but fools; yet there is anger in me, That I would fain disperse, and now I think on't, You told me, friend, the Provinces are stirring, We shall have sport I hope then, and what's dangerous, A Battle shall beat from me. _Æci._ Why do ye eye me, With such a setled look? _Max._ Pray tell me this, Do we not love extreamly? I love you so. _Æci._ If I should say I lov'd not you as truly, I should do that I never durst do, lye. _Max._ If I should dye, would it not grieve you much? _Æci._ Without all doubt.