Even to the court, the heart; to th' feat o' th' brain; Men. Though all at once cannot Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flow'r of all, But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you, z Cit. I the great toe! why, the great toe? But make you ready your ftiff bats and clubs, Enter (3) The one fide must have bail. ] It must be the vanquisht fide, sure, that could want it; and who were likely to be their bail? but it is endless to question with negligence and stupidity. The poet, undoubtedly wrote, as I have reftor'd; The one fide muft have bale. i. e. Sorrow, misfortune, muft have the worst of it, be discomfited. I have reftor'd this word in fome other paffages of our author; and we meet with it in a play, attributed to him, call'd Locrine: ----Yea, with thefe eyes thou haft seen her, and therefore pull them out, for they will work thy bale. Mr. Rowe, indeed, in his editions of our poet, has erroneously printed bail too in this paffage; but in the old quarto which I have of Locrines printed Enter Caius Marcius. Hail, noble Marcius! [rogues, Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you diffentious That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves fcabs? 2 Cit. We have ever your good word. Mar. He, that will give good words to thee, will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you The other makes you proud. He that trufts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares: Where foxes, geefe: You are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the fun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy, whofe offence fubdues him, A fick man's appetite, who defires most that And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye truft ye! printed in 1595, we find the word fpelt as it ought. And it was a term familiar both with authors prior in time, and contemporaries with Shakespeare. and eke her fingirs long and fmale She wrong full oft, and bade God on her rue, And with the death to doe bote on her bale: &c. Chaucer's Troil, and Crefeide. Book IV. verse 738. And the black holme, that loves the wat❜ry vale, And the sweet cyprefs, fign of deadly bale. And again, Spenfer's Tranflation of Virgil's Guat. Said he, what have I wretch deferv'd, that thus Into this bitter bale I am out-caft. Thus greatest blifs is prone to greatest bale. Idem ibid. First Chorus of Hercules Oetus from Seneca; printed in 1581. And least my foe, falfe Promos here, Do interrupt my tale; Grant, gracious King, that, uncontroul'd, I may report my bale. Promes and Caffandra, (a Play,) printed in 1578. And And call him noble, that was now your hate; You cry against the noble Senate, who (Under the gods) keep you in awe, which elfe Mar. Hang 'em: they fay! They'll fit by th' fire, and prefume to know Who thrives, and who declines: fide factions, and give out Would the nobility lay afide their ruth, Men. Nay, thefe are almost thoroughly perfuaded : For though abundantly they lack difcretion, Yet are they paffing cowardly. What fays the other troop? But, I beseech you, Mar. They are diffolv'd; hang 'em, They faid they were an hungry, figh'd forth proverbs They vented their complainings: which being anfwer'd, And make bold power look pale; they threw their caps Men. What is granted them? Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wifdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not-s' death, The rabble fhould have firft unroof'd the city, Ere Ere fo prevail'd with me! it will in time Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes Men. This is ftrange. Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments! Enter a Mefenger. Mef. Where's Caius Marcius? Mar. Here-what's the matter? Mef. The news is, Sir, the Volfcians are in arms. Mar. I'm glad on't, then we shall have means to vent Our mufty fuperfluity. See, our beft elders!Enter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senators. 1 Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us, The Volfcians are in arms. Mar. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. And were I any thing but what I am, I'd with me only he. Com. You have fought together? Mar. Were half to half the world by th' 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. 1 Sen. Then worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to thefe wars. Mar. Sir, it is; And I am conftant: Titus Lartius, thou Shalt fee me once more ftrike at Tullus' face. What, art thou stiff? stand'st out? Tit. No Caius Marcius, I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with t' other; Ere ftay behind this bufinefs. Men. O true bred! 1 Sen. Your company to th' capitol; where, I know, Our greatest friends attend us. Com. Noble Lartius!· you; 1 Sen. Hence to your homes-be gone. Mar. Nay, let them follow; [To the Citizente The Volfcians have much corn: take thefe rats thither, [Citizens feal away. [Exeunt, Manent Sicinius and Brutas. Sic. Was ever man fo proud, as is this Marcius? Bru. He has no equal. Sic. When we were chofen tribunes for the peopleBru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes? Sic Nay, but his taunts. Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the godsSic. Be-mock the modeft moon, Bru. (4) The prefent wars devour him; he is grown Too proud to be fo valiant. Sic. Such a nature, Tickled with good fuccefs, difdains the fhadow Bru. Fame, at the which he aims, In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot (4) The prefent wars devour bim; he is grown Too proud to be fo valiant.] This is very obfcurely exprefs'd; but the poet's meaning muft certainly be this. Marcius is fo confcious of, and fo elate upon, the notion of his own valour, that he is eaten up with pride; devour'd with the apprehenfions of that glory which he promises himself from the enfuing war. A fentiment, like this, occurs again in Troilus and Creffida. He, that is proud, eats up bimfelf. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. |