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.
Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state; whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by calamity

Thither where more attends you, and you slander
The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.

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
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answer'd-

First Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
Men. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus—
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak-it tauntingly replied

To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that

They are not such as you.

First Cit.

Your belly's answer?
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter,
With other muniments and petty helps

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.
Well, what then?
First Cit. The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?

Men.

I will tell you;

If you
'll bestow a small-of what you have little-
Patience awhile, you 'st hear the belly's answer.

First Cit. You're 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 competency

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?
First 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 public 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?

First 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 bale.

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
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to 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 greatness
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 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
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 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—
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 wisdoms,
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, 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
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.

Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators; Junius
Brutus and Sicinius Velutus.

First Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us;
The Volsces 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'ld revolt, to make

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.
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?

Tit.

No, Caius Marcius;

I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with t' other,
Ere stay behind this business.