2 Cit. One word, good citizens.

scienc'd 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.

Cit. Come, come.

1 Cit. Soft; who comes here?

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hatn 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

1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens: the patricians, good: What authority surfeits on, would relieve us; If they would yield us but the super- With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray fluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess,

you.

they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are 1 Cit. Our business is not unknown to the senate; too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we inof our misery, is as an inventory to particularize tend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. They say, poor suitors have strong breaths; they Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become shall know, we have strong arms too. rakes: 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?

Cit. Against him first; he's a very dog to the commonalty.

2 Cit. Consider you what services he has done for his country?

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-con(2) Thin as rakes,

(1) Rich.

Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,

Will you undo yourselves?

1 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.

1 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 and 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 accus'd 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 scale't' a little more.

1 Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace2 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 accus'd it :-
That only like a gulf it did remain
I'the midst o'the body, idle and inactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest; where the other
ments

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 flower of all,
And leave me but the bran. 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 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 ?-

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 are worst in blood, to run
Lead'st first to win some vantage.-

instru-But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs;
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle,

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 answered,―

1 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.

1 Cit.
Your belly's answer: What!
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 pretty helps
In this our fabric, if that they—

What then? 'Fore me, this fellow speaks!-what then? what then?

1 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd Who is the sink o'the body

Men.

Well, what then? 1 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 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
brain;

And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency

o'the

(1) Spread it. (2) Hardship, (3) Whereas,

The one side must have bale. Hail, noble Marcius!
Enter Caius Marcius.

Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissen-
tious 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

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

Scene III.

Whether for east, or west: The dearth is great;
The people mutinous: and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you:
Consider of it.
1 Sen.
Our army's in the field:

We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.

Nor did you think it folly,

Auf
To keep your great pretences veil'd, till when
They needs must show themselves; which in the

hatching,

It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,
We shall be shorten'd in our aim; which was
To take in' many towns, ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were afoot.

2 Sen.

Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli:

If they set down before us, for the remove
Bring up your army; but, I think, you'll find
They have not prepared for us.

Auf.

O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more.
Some parcels of their powers are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
"Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike
Till one can do more.

All.

The gods assist you!

Auf. And keep your honours safe!

1 Sen.

2 Sen.

Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

Vol. Indeed, you shall not.

Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum;
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;

As children from a bear, the Volces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,-
Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes;
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords' contending.-Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.

[Exit Gent,
Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius.
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck.
Re-enter Gentlewoman, with Valeria and her
Usher.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you.
Vol. Sweet madam,-

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What, are you sewing here? A fine spot,* in good faith.-How does your little son?

Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, that look upon his school-master.

Farewell. Val. O'my word, the father's son: I'll swear, 'tis Farewell. a very pretty boy. O'my troth, I look'd upon him [Exeunt. o'Wednesday half an hour together: he has such All. Farewell. a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a SCENE III-Rome. An apartment in Marcius' gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it house. Enter Volumnia, and Virgilia: They go again; and after it again; and over and over sit down on two low stools, and sew. he comes, and up again; catched it again: or

Vol. One of his father's moods.
Val. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.
Vir. A crack, madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express your-whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did self in a more comfortable sort: If my son were so set his teeth, and tear it; O, I warrant, how he my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that ab-mammocked' it! sence wherein he won honour, that in the embracements of his bed, where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way;2 when, for a day of king's entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,-considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,-was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter,-I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now in first secing he had proved himself a

Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
Val. Not out of doors?
Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars. Val. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would, your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.