Aeci. No.
Pon. Nor love me for it?
Aeci. That's as thou dost thy business.
Pon. When you are dead,
Your place is mine Æcius.
Aeci. Now I fear thee,
And not alone thee Pontius, but the Empire.
Pon. Why, I can govern Sir.
Aeci. I would thou couldst,
And first thy self: Thou canst fight well, and bravely,
Thou canst endure all dangers, heats, colds, hungers;
Heavens angry flashes are not suddainer,
Than I have seen thee execute; nor more mortal;
The winged feet of flying enemies
I have stood and view'd thee mow away like rushes,
And still kill the killer: were thy minde,
But half so sweet in peace, as rough in dangers,
I died to leave a happy heir behind me;
Come strike, and be a General.
Pon. Prepare then:
And, for I see your honour cannot lessen,
And 'twere a shame for me to strike a dead man,
Fight your short span out.
Aeci. No thou knowst I must not,
I dare not give thee so much vantage of me,
As disobedience.
Pon. Dare ye not defend ye
Against your enemy?