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 ? you. The matter? speak, I pray 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 60 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 Thither where more attends you, and you slander fathers, When you curse them as enemies. First Cit. Care for us! True, indeed! They 70 80 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 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 Rebell'd against the belly; thus accused it: I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest, where the other instru ments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, Unto the appetite and affection common 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— 97. fob off, jest away. 112. Which ne'er came from the lungs. The lungs were regarded as the seat of joyous laughter. For, look you, I may make the belly smile To the discontented members, the mutinous parts They are not such as you. First Cit. Your belly's answer? The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, In this our fabric, if that they Men. What! What then? 'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then? First Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sink o' the body, Men. Well, what then? First Cit. The former agents, if they did com plain, What could the belly answer? Men. If you I will tell you; 'll bestow a small-of what you have little 120 Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. 130 First Cit. Ye'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, 114. taintingly. So Fi Most modern edd. substitute 'tauntingly,' from F4. But the belly's reply (v. 134 f.) is not taunting, and 'taintingly' may well mean attaintingly,' i.e. indicting (them in turn). Which you do live upon; and fit it is, 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 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 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 But it proceeds or comes from them to you 140 150 First Cit. I the great toe! why the great toe? 160 Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: 163. rascal, deer unfit for 163. in blood, in sound con 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 dis sentious rogues, That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs? First Cit. We have ever your good word. 170 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; Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! With every minute you do change a mind, 179. To make him worthy, etc., to rehabilitate the criminal justly condemned, and to VOL. X 17 180 execrate the justice which sentenced him. C |