SCENE: Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli and the neigh bourhood; Antium.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Rome. A street.

Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.

First Cit. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. All. Speak, speak.

First Cit. You are all resolved rather to die than to lamish?

All. Resolved, resolved.

First Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.

All. We know't, we know't.

First Cit. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a verdict?

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All. No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away! Sec. Cit. One word, good citizens.

First Cit. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if

they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particu larize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

Sec. Cit. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?

All. Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.

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

First Cit. Very well; and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud.

Sec. Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.

First Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end: though soft-conscienced 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.

41 Sec. Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

First 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!

All. Come, come.

First Cit. Soft! who comes here?

Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA.

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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? 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 neighbours,

Will you undo yourselves?

First 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.

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80 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 star tes 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

A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;

But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture

To stale't a little more.

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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 Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:

That only like a gulf it did remain

I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,

Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing

Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
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 answer'd-

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-

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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.

First 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 fabric, if that they-

What then?

Men.
'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 complain,
What could the belly answer?

I will tell you;

Men.
If you'll bestow a small-of what you have little-
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.
First Cit. Ye're long about it.
Men.

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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; 140 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,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
From me do back receive the flour of 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

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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?

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Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,

First Cit. I the great toe! why the great toe?

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 bale.

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.

Hail, noble Marcius!

Mar. Thanks.

What's the matter, you dissentious

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; 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 greatness

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

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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 stored.

Mar.

Hang 'em! They say!

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