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For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak-it taintingly 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?

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—

Men.

What!

What then?

'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 com

plain,

What could the belly answer?

Men.

I will tell you;

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.

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,

114. taintingly. So F.

Most modern edd. substitute 'tauntingly,' from F4. But the belly's reply (v. 134 f.) is not

120

130

taunting, and 'taintingly' may well mean ' attaintingly,' i.e. indicting (them in turn).

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,

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,

140

And leave me but the bran.' What say you to 't? 150 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 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?

First Cit. I the great toe! why the great toe? 160
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,

163. rascal, deer unfit for hunting.

163. in blood, in sound con

dition.

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.

Mar. Thanks.

sentious rogues,

Hail, noble Marcius!

What's the matter, you dis

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

hares ;

you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you
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,

179. To make him worthy, etc., to rehabilitate the criminal justly condemned, and

VOL. X

to

17

180

execrate the justice which sentenced him.

C

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!

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'ld make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;

For though abundantly they lack discretion,

Yet are they passing cowardly.

you,

But, I beseech

They are dissolved: hang 'em!

What says the other troop?

Mar.

They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth

proverbs,

197. side factions, take sides

in factions.

202. quarry (a sporting term:

190

200

a pile of prey living or dead), a heap of the slain.

204. pick, pitch, throw.

That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, 210 That meat was made for mouths, that the gods

sent not

Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds
They vented their complainings; which being
answer'd,

And a petition granted them, a strange one-
To break the heart of generosity,

And make bold power look pale-they threw their
caps

As they would hang them on the horns o' the

moon,

Shouting their emulation.

Men.

What is granted them? Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar

wisdoms,

Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not-'Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time

Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.

Men.

This is strange.

Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments!

220

Enter a Messenger, hastily.

Here: what's the matter?

Mess. Where's Caius Marcius?

Mar.

Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. Mar. I am glad on't: then we shall ha' means

to vent

Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.

230

215. break the heart of generosity, give the death-blow to the power of the nobles.

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