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If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little,) · Patience, a while, you'll hear the belly's answer.

1 Cit. You are long about it. Men.

Note me this, good friend;

Your most grave belly was deliberate,

Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd..
True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he,

That I receive the general food at first,

Which you do live

upon: and fit it is;

Because I am the store-house, and the shop
Of the whole body: But if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,

Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o'the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,

The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural cómpetency

Whereby they live: And though that all at once,
You, my good friends, (this says the belly,) mark

me,

1 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

And leave me but the bran.

flower of all,

What say you to't?

1 Cit. It was an answer: How apply you this? Men. The senators of Rome are this good belly,

And you the mutinous members: For examine
Their counsels, and their cares; digest things rightly,
Touching the weal o' the common; you shall find,

No publick benefit which you receive,

But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,
And no way from yourselves. What do you think?
You, the great toe of this assembly?—

1 Cit. I the great toe? Why the great toe?

Men. For that being one o'the lowest, basest,

poorest,

Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood, to run
Lead'st first to win some vantage.—

But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs;
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle,
The one side must have bail?.-Hail, noble Marcius!

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.

Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissentious

rogues,

That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,

Make yourselves scabs?

1 Cit.

We have ever your good word. Mar. He that will give good words to thee, will

flatter

Beneath abhorring.-What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud3. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the sun.

Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves great

ness,

Deserves your hate: and your affections are

A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,

And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust

ye?

With every minute you do change a mind;

And call him noble, that was now your hate,

Him vile, that was your garland. What's the matter, That in these several places of the city

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 stor'd.

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'd make a quarry*
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion,

Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, What says the other troop?

Mar.

They are dissolved: Hang 'em! They said, they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth pro

verbs;

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,

(To break the heart of generosity,

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 wis

doms,

Of their own choice: One's Junius Brutus,

Sicinius Velutus, and I know not-'Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time

Win

upon power, and throw forth greater themes For insurrection's arguing.

Men.

This is strange.

Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where's Caius Marcius?

Mar.

Here: What's the matter?

Mess. The news is, sir, the Volces are in arms. Mar. I am glad on't; then we shall have means to vent

Our musty superfluity:-See, our best elders.

Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators; JUNIUS BRUTUS, and SICINIUS VELUTUS. 1 Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told

us;

The Volces are in arms.

Mar.

They have a leader,

Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't.

I sin in envying his nobility:

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

Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make

Only my wars with him: he is a lion

That I am proud to hunt.

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