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Lart. I shall, my lord.
I that now
790 Com. Take it: 'tis your's.-What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
Com. O, well begg'd!
800 Lart. Marcius, his name?
Cor. By Jupiter, forgot :-
Com. Go we to our tent:
The Camp of the Volsces. A Flourish. Cornets. Enter
I would, I were a Roman ; for I cannot,
Sol. He's the devil.
Auf. I am attended at the cypress-grove : I pray you
840 ('Tis south the city mills), bring me word thither How the world goes; that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. Sol. I shall, sir.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Rome. Enter MENENIUS, with SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
He augurer tells me, we shall have news to. night.
Bru. Good, or bad ?
Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.
Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends,
Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.
Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear.
Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall
Both. Well, sir.
Men. In what enormity is Marcilis poor, that you two have not in abundance ? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all,
Sic. Especially, in pride.
Men. This is strange now : Do you two know how you are censur'd here in the city, I mean of us o'the right hand file? Do you?
Bru. Why, how are we censur'd ?
Men. Because you talk of pride now-Will you not be angry?
Both. Well, well, sir, well.
Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience ; give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures ; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud ?
33 Bru. We do it not alone, sir.
Men. I know, you can do very little alone ; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride : Oh, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves ! O, that you could !
Bru. What then, sir?
Men. Why, then you should discover a brące of as unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias, fools), as any in Rome.
Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.
Men. I am known to be a humourous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of Diij
allaying Tiber in't: said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint; hasty, and tinderlike, upon too trivial motion : one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath : Meeting two such weals-men as you are (I cannot call you Lycurgusses), if the drink you give me, touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I can't say, your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell you you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
66 Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps
and legs : you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fossetseller ; and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the cholick, you make faces like mummers ; set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your