1 Cit. Soft; who comes here? Enter Menenius Agrippa. 2.Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people. 1 Cit. He's one honest enough; 'Would, all the rest were so! Men. What works, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you. 1 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? 1 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. 1 Cit. Care for us!-True, indeed! They ne'er car'd for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their store-houses cramm'd 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 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 members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it:- I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, ments Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, 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 reply'd To the discontented members, the mutinous parts That envy'd 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; Of the whole body: But if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, 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? 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, 1 Cit. I the great toe? Why the great toe? 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; cius! Enter Caius Marcius. Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissen tious 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, ness, Deserves your hate: and your affections are ye? With every minute you do change a mind; |