Imatges de pàgina
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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 storehouses 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 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 disgrace with a tale: but, an't please you, deliver.

Men. There was a time, when all the body's mein

bers

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 instru

ments

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 part
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 petty helps

In this our fabrick, if that they

Men.

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 o'the brain;

And, through the cranks and offices of man,

The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency

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?

How apply you this?

1 Cit. It was an answer: 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 publick 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 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,
The one side must have bail.-Hail, noble Marcius!

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.

Mur. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissentious

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 curs,
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud3. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the sun.

Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves great

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

say,

The city is well stor❜d.

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,

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