If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little)
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.
1st 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 answered :—
"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 storehouse 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,)—

1st 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?

1st 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 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?—

1st 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 goest 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.-Hail, noble Marcius!

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.

Mar. Thanks.-What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,

That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?

1st 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 proud. 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
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,
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

Which 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? 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 quartered slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.

SCENE III.-Rome. An Apartment in MARCIUS' House.

Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA: they sit down on two low stools, and sew.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in the embracements of his bed, where he would shew most love. When he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,-considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,— was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. Vir. But had he died in the business, madam; how then?

Vol. Then his good report should have been my son: I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.

Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire

myself.

Vol. Indeed you shall not.

Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum;
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;
As children from a bear, the Volces shunning him:
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
"Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome." His bloody brow
With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that's tasked to mow
Or all or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood! Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords contending.-Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome.

[Exit Gentlewoman.

Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, And tread upon his neck.

Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and her
Usher.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you.
Vol. Sweet madam,-

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What, are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith.-How does your little son?

Vir. I thank your ladyship: well, good madam. Vol. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster.

Val. O' my word, the father's son. I'll swear 't is a very pretty boy: o' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together. He has such a confirmed countenance! I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again or whether his fall enraged him, or

how 't was, he did so set his teeth and tear it: O, I warrant, how he mammocked it!

Vol. One of his father's moods.
Val. Indeed la, 't is a noble child.
Vir. A crack, madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery: I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

Vir. No, good madam: I will not out of doors. Val. Not out of doors!

Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience. I will not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.

Val. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

Val. You would be another Penelope : yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come: I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that

you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

Vir. No, good madam, pardon me: indeed I will not forth.

Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily I do not jest with you: there came news from him last night.

Vir. Indeed, madam?

Val. In earnest it's true: I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is :-The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli: they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour: and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir. Give me excuse, good madam: I will obey you in everything hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, lady as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth I think she would.-Fare you well, then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'y thee, Virgilia, turn thy solemnness out o' door, and go along with us.

Vir. No: at a word, madam: indeed I must I wish you much mirth.

not.