Shakespeare's First Folio Part 460

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poison'd, With onely suff'ring staine by him: for him Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll, The Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice: Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift vp Their rotten Priuiledge, and Custome 'gainst My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there Against the hospitable Canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' Citie, Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that must Be Hostages for Rome

Soul. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you ('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither How the world goes: that to the pace of it I may spurre on my iourney

Soul. I shall sir.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius & Brutus.

Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to night

Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they loue not Martius

Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue?

Sicin. The Lambe

Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the n.o.ble Martius

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare

Men. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe.

You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall aske you

Both. Well sir

Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you two haue not in abundance?

Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but stor'd withall

Sicin. Especially in Pride

Bru. And topping all others in boasting

Men. This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th' right hand File, do you?

Both. Why? how are we censur'd?

Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not be angry

Both. Well, well sir, well

Men. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe of Occasion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience: Giue your dispositions the reines, and bee angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud

Brut. We do it not alone, sir

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your helpes are many, or else your actions would growe wondrous single: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make but an Interiour suruey of your good selues. Oh that you could

Both. What then sir?

Men. Why then you should discouer a brace of vnmeriting, proud, violent, testie Magistrates (alias Fooles) as any in Rome

Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too

Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying Tiber in't: Said, to be something imperfect in fauouring the first complaint, hasty and Tinder-like vppon, to triuiall motion: One, that conuerses more with the b.u.t.tocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning.

What I think, I vtter, and spend my malice in my breath.

Meeting two such Weales men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Palat aduersly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your Wors.h.i.+ppes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde the a.s.se in compound, with the Maior part of your syllables.

And though I must be content to beare with those, that say you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly, that tell you haue good faces, if you see this in the Map of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well enough too? What harme can your beesome Conspectuities gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough too

Bru. Come sir come, we know you well enough

Menen. You know neither mee, your selues, nor any thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and legges: you weare out a good wholesome Forenoone, in hearing a cause betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forfetseller, and then reiourne the Controuersie of three-pence to a second day of Audience. When you are hearing a matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee pinch'd with the Collike, you make faces like Mummers, set vp the bloodie Flagge against all Patience, and in roaring for a Chamber-pot, dismisse the Controuersie bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the peace you make in their Cause, is calling both the parties Knaues. You are a payre of strange ones

Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderstood to bee a perfecter gyber for the Table, then a necessary Bencher in the Capitoll

Men. Our very Priests must become Mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous Subiects as you are, when you speake best vnto the purpose. It is not woorth the wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deserue not so honourable a graue, as to stuffe a Botchers Cus.h.i.+on, or to be intomb'd in an a.s.ses Packe-saddle; yet you must bee saying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion, though peraduenture some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen.

G.o.dden to your Wors.h.i.+ps, more of your conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Bru. and Scic. Aside.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as n.o.ble) Ladyes, and the Moone were shee Earthly, no n.o.bler; whither doe you follow your Eyes so fast?

Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approches: for the loue of Iuno let's goe

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home?

Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation

Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee: hoo, Martius comming home?

2.Ladies. Nay, 'tis true

Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at home for you

Menen. I will make my very house reele to night: A Letter for me?

Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't

Menen. A Letter for me? it giues me an Estate of seuen yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the Physician: The most soueraigne Prescription in Galen, is but Emperickqutique; and to this Preseruatiue, of no better report then a Horse-drench. Is he not wounded?

he was wont to come home wounded?

Virgil. Oh no, no, no

Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the G.o.ds for't

Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a Victorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third time home with the Oaken Garland

Menen. Ha's he disciplin'd Auffidius soundly?

Volum. t.i.tus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Auffidius got off