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! Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA. 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 neigh bours, Will you undo yourselves? First Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already. 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, A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; 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 I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments What answer made the belly? Men. Sir, I shall tell you. Well, sir, With a kind of smile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus As well as speak it tauntingly replied - To the discontented members, the mutinous parts They are not such as you. First Cit. -- Your belly's answer? What! The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, In this our fabric, if that they Men. 'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? 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 complain, What could the belly answer? I will tell you; of what you've little Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. Note me this, good friend; Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain; Men. "Though all at once can not that all See what I do deliver out to each, What say you to't? But it proceeds or comes from them to you, 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, But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: Enter CAIUS MARCIUS. Hail, noble Marcius! Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, We have ever your good word. Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, 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! And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, You cry against the noble senate, who, which else Under the gods, keep you in awe, 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'd make a quarry With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, Mar. They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, 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! |