All. We know't, we know 't. 1 Cit. Let us kill him, and we 'll have coro at our own price. Is 't a verdict ? All. No more talking on 't; let it be done. Away, away! 2 Cit. One word, good citizens. 1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits yrk, would relieve us: if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are too dear: the leanness that amists us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory.lo- particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become makes: for the gods know, I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. 2 Cit. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? 1 Cit. Very well; and could be content to give him good report for 't, but that he pays himself with being proud. 2 Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously. 1 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. 2 Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. 1 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. Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA. 2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people. 1 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. 2 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 neigh bours, Will you undo yourselves ? 2 Cit. We cannot, Sir; we are undone already. Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care you slander The helms o'the state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies. 2 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 pi ng 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 you; and Did see, 2 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 and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, 2 Cit. Well, Sir, what answer made the belly? With a kind of smile, may make the belly smile, Your belly's answer? What! What then? 2 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sink o'the body, Men. Well, what then? 2 Cit. The former agents, if they did complain, Men. I will tell you, Which you 2 Cit. Y'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, do live upon; and fit it is, 2 Cit. Ay, Sir; well, well. “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? 2 Cit. It was an answer. How apply you this? Men. The senators of Rome are this good belly, 2 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; Enter Caius MARCIUS. Mar. Thanks. What 's the matter, you dissentious rogues, We have ever your good word. you hares; He that depends Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say, Hang 'em! They say? |