For, look you, I may make the belly smile To the discontented members, the mutinous parts They are not such as you. First Cit. Your belly's answer? The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, 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. 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, 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 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 But it proceeds or comes from them to you First Cit. I the great toe! why the great toe? 160 poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost : 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: 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 Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, hares ; you, greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are 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 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 And a petition granted them, a strange one- And make bold power look pale-they threw their 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, Win upon power and throw forth greater themes 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. |