First Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud; which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. Sec. Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. First Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side o' the city is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol ! All. Come, come. First Cit. Soft! who comes here? Enter Menenius Agrippa. Sec. Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people. First Cit. He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so ! Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you With bats and clubs? the matter? speak, I pray you. First Cit. Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we have strong arms too. Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves? First Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already. Thither where more attends you, and you slander First Cit. Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us yet suffer us to famish, and their store-houses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us. Men. Either you must Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture To stale 't a little more. First Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please you, deliver. Men. There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accused it: That only like a gulf it did remain I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest; where the other instruments First Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? To the discontented members, the mutinous parts They are not such as you. First Cit. Your belly's answer? In this our fabric, if that they— Men. What then? What! 'Fore me, this fellow speaks! what then? what then? First Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restṛain'd, Who is the sink o' the body,— Men. Men. I will tell you; If you First Cit. You're long about it. Note me this, good friend; The strongest nerves and small inferior veins Whereby they live: and though that all at once, You, my good friends,'—this says the belly, mark me— First Cit. Ay, sir; well well. Men. 'Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran.' What say you to 't? But it proceeds or comes from them to you First Cit. I the great toe! why the great toe? Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs : Enter Caius Marcius. Hail, noble Marcius! Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs? First Cit. We have ever your good word. Mar. He that will give good words to thee will flatter Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him A sick man's appetite, who desires most that And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, You cry against the noble senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say, The city is well stored. Mar. Hang 'em! They say! They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise, Who thrives and who declines; side factions and give out Conjectural marriages; making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough! Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, And let me use my sword, I'ld make a quarry With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, Mar. They are dissolved: hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs, That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only with these shreds They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, And a petition granted them, a strange one— And make bold power look pale-they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, Shouting their emulation. Men. What is granted them? Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Win upon power and throw forth greater themes Men. This is strange. Mar. Go get you home, you fragments! Enter a Messenger, hastily. Here: what's the matter? Mess. Where 's Caius Marcius? Mar. Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. Mar. I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators; Junius First Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us; Mar. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. And were I any thing but what I am, I would wish me only he. Com. You have fought together? Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, and he Only my wars with him: he is a lion That I am proud to hunt. First Sen. Then, worthy Marcius, Sir, it is; Attend upon Cominius to these wars. Com. It is your former promise. Mar. And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. Tit. No, Caius Marcius; I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with t' other, |