Clean. Oh, friend!—for yet I dare to call you so;
Which, if I were a villain, sure I durst not,—
Hear me, or kill me!
Cleom. So, by heaven, I would,
For thy profaning friendship's holy name;
But, for thou see'st no justice hanging here,
On this bare side, thou talk'st secure of vengeance.
Clean. Then, if you had a sword, my death's resolved?
Cleom. Thy conscience answers thee.
Clean. Without more evidence than bare surmise;