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And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry+
the other troop? Mar.
They are dissolved: Hang 'em! They said, they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth pro
verbs; That, hunger broke stone walls; that, dogs must eat; 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 an
swer'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?
Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
This is strange.
Enter a Messenger. Mess. Where's Caius Marcius? Mur.
Here: What's the matter? Mess. The news is, sir, the Volces are in arms. Mar. I am glad on't; then we shall have means to
vent Our musty superfluity :-See, our best elders. Enter COMINIUS, Titus LARTIUs, and other Senators; JUNIUS Brutus, and SICINIUS VELUTUS. i Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told
They have a leader,
I any thing but what I am,
You have fought together. Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, and
Then, worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars. Com. It is your former promise.
Sir, it is; And I am constant.--Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face: What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?
No, Caius Marcius; I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with the other, Ere stay behind this business. Men.
O, true bred! i Sen. Your company to the Capitol; where, I
Lead you on:
Noble Lartius! 1 Sen. Hence! To your homes, be gone.
[To the Citizens. Mar.
Nay, let them follow: The Volces have much corn; take these rats thither, To gnaw their garners:-Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. [Exeunt Senators, Com. Mar. Tit, and Mene. Citizens steal
away. Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? Bru. He has no equal. Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the peo
Bru. Mark'd you his lip, and eyes?
Nay, but his taunts. Bru. Being mov’d, he will not spare to gird the
gods. Sic. Be-mock the modest moon,
Bru. The present wars devour him: he is grown
Such a nature,
Fame, at the which he aims,
Besides, if things go well,
Come; Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed, In aught he merit not. Sic.
Let's hence, and hear How the despatch is made; and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Enter Tullus Aufidius, and certain Senators.
i Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
Is it not yours?
Our army's in the field: