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Scæn. 2.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gent.Ant.
Cut his winde-pipe, I say.
1 Gent.
Fie Antonio.
Ant.
Or knock his brains out first, & then forgive him
2
A Surgeon may see through him.
1.
You are too violent,
2.
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.
Be sure it be so,
Before ye use this violence. Let not doubt,
And a suspecting anger so much sway ye,
Your wisedome 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.
Hang up a true man,
Because 'tis possible he may be theevish:
Alas, is this good Justice?
Petr.
I know as certaine,
As day must come againe; as cleare as truth.
And open as beliefe can lay it to me,
That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence;
Malitiously abus'd, blasted for ever
In name and honour, lost to all remembrance,
But what is smear'd, and shamefull; I must kill him,
Necessitie compells me.
1.
But think better
Petr.
There is no other cure left: yet witnesse with me
All that is faire in man, all that is noble,
I am not greedy of this life I seek for,
Nor thirst to shed mans bloud; and would 'twere possible
I wish it with my soule, so much I tremble
To offend the sacred Image of my Maker,
My sword could onely kill his crimes: no 'tis honour,
Honour, my noble friends, that idoll honour,
That all the world now worships, not Petruchio
Must doe this justice.
Ant.
Let it once be done,
And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour,
Or both be accessarie.
2.
Doe you weigh Petruchio
The value of the person, power, and greatnesse,
And what this sparke may kindle?
Petr.
To performe it,
So much I am ty'd to reputation,
And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,
That all this Dukedome smoak, and stormes that tosse me
Into the stormes of everlasting ruine,
Yet I must through; if yee dare side me.
Ant.
Dare?
Petr.
Ye're friends indeed, if not.
2.
Here's none flies from you,
Doe it in what designe ye please, wee'll back ye.
1.
But then be sure yee kill him.
2.
Is the cause
So mortall, nothing but his life?
Pet.
Beleeve me,
A lesse offence has been the desolation
Of a whole name.
1.
No other way to purge it?
Pet.
There is, but never to be hoped for,
2.
Thinke an houre more,
And if then ye finde no safer road to guide yee,
Wee'll set up our rests too.
Ant.
Mine's up already,
And hang him for my part,
Goes lesse than life.
2.
If we see noble cause, 'tis like our swords
May be as free and forward as your words.
Exeunt.
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