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Embarkments all of fury, fhall lift up
Their rotten privilege and cuftom 'gainft

My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Againft the hofpitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city; Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hoftages for Rome.

Sol. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove. I pray you, ('Tis fouth the city-mills) bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the

I may fpur on my journey.

Sol. I fhall, Sir.

pace of it

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE, Rome.

Enter Menenius, with Sicinius and Brutus.

MENENIU S.

HE augur tells me, we shall have news to-night.
Bru. Good or bad?

TH

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beafts to know their friends.
Men. Pray you, whom does the wolf love?

Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes 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 fhall ask you.

Both. Well, Sir;

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, have not in abundance?

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Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but ftor'd with all.
Sic. Efpecially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boafting.

Men. This is ftrange now; do you two know how you are cenfur'd here in the city, I mean of us o' th' right hand file, do you?"

Bru. Why,-how are we cenfur'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 occafion will rob you of a great deal of patience: -give your difpofitions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the leaft, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being fo:-you blame Marcius for being proud.

Bru. We do it not alone, Sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or elfe your actions would grow wondrous fingle; 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 furvey of your good felves! Oh that you could!

Bru. What then, Sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of as unmeriting, proud, violent, tefty magiftrates, alias fools, as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't: faid to be fomething imperfect, in favouring the firft complaint; hafty and tinderlike, upon too trivial motion: one that converfes more with the buttock of the night, than with the fore-head of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two fuch weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguffes) if the drink you give me touch my palate adverfly, I make a crooked face at it. I can't say, your worships have deliver'd

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the matter well, when I find the afs in compound with the major part of your fyllables; and tho' I must be content to bear with thofe, that fay, you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell you, you have good faces; if you fee this in the map of my microcofm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? (11) what harm can your biffon confpectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough

too?

Bru. Come, Sir, come, we know you well enough. Men. You know neither me, yourfelves, nor any thing; you are ambitious for poor knaves caps and legs you wear out a good wholefome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a foffetfeller, and then adjourn a controverfy of three-pence to a fecond 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, fet up the bloody flag againft all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, difmifs the controverfy bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their caufe, is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of ftrange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a

(11) What barm can your befom confpectuities glean out of this charafter, &c.] If the editors have form'd any conftruction to themfelves, of this epithet befom, that can be a propos to the fenfe of the context;---Davus fum, non Oedipus: it is too hard a riddle for me to expound. Menenius, 'tis plain, is abufing the tribunes, and bantering them ironically. By confpectuities he must mean, their fagacity, clearfightedness; and that they may not think he's complimenting them, he tacks an epithet to it, which quite undoes that character; i. e. bisson, blind, bleer-ey'd. Skinner, in his Etymologicon, explains this word, cacus; vox agro lincoln. ufitatiffima. Ray concurs, in his north and fouth country words. And our author gives us this term again in his Hamlet, where the fenfe exactly correfponds with this interpretation.

Run barefoot up and down, threatning the flames,

With biffon rheum.

i. e. blinding. It is fpoken of Hecuba, whofe eyes o'erflow and are blinded, both with tears, and the rheums of age.

perfecter

perfecter gyber for the table, than a neceffary bencher in the capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they fhall encounter fuch ridiculous fubjects as you are; when you fpeak beft unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deferve not fo honourable a grave, as to ftuff a botcher's cufhion, or to be intomb'd in an afs's pack-faddle. Yet you must be faying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap eftimation, (12) is worth all your predeceffors fince Deucalion; though, peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good-e'en to your worships; more of your converfation would infect my brain, being the herd men of the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Brutus and Sicinius ftand afide. As Menenius is going out, Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now my (as fair as noble) Ladies, and the moon, were the earthly, no nobler; whither do you follow your eyes fo fast ?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with moft profperous approbation.

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee hoo, Marcius coming home!

Both. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him, the state hath

(12)---who, in a cheap eflimation, is worth all your predeceffors fince Deucalion, tho' peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.] I won't pretend to affirm, this is an imitation of the clofe of Juvenal's 8th fatire; though it has very much the fame caft, only exceeds it, I think, in humour, and poignancy of satire.

Et tamen ut longè repetas, longéque revolvas
Nomen, ab infami gentem deducis afylo:
Majorum primus quifquis fuit ille tuorum,
Aut paftor fuit, aut illud quod dicere nolo.

another,

another, his wife another, and, I think, there's one at home for you.

Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: A letter for me!

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you, I faw't. Men. A letter for me! it gives me an eftate of seven years health; in which time I will make a lip at the phyfician; the moft fovereign prefcription in Galen is but emperic, and to this prefervative of no better report than a horfe-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. Oh no, no, no.

Vol. Oh, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. Men. So do I too, if he be not too much; brings a'victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius; he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.

Men. Hath he difciplin'd Aufidius foundly?

Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that if he had staid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chefts in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffeft of this?

Vol. Good Ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things fpoke of him. Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchafing.

Vir. The gods grant them true!

Vol. True? pow, waw.

Men. True? I'll be fworn, they are true.

Where is

he wounded? god fave your good worships;-Marcius is coming home; he has more caufe to be proud where is he wounded?

[To the Tribunes. Vol. I' th' fhoulder, and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to fhew the people, when he shall stand

for

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