Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so.
Let them assemble;
And on a safer judgment, all revoke
Your ignorant election. Enforce his pride,
And his old hate unto you: besides, forget not
With what contempt he wore the humble weed;
How in his suit he scorned you: but your loves,
Thinking upon his services, took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
After the inveterate hate he bears you.
Bru. Lay a fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured
(No impediment between) but that you must Cast your election on him.
More after our commandment, than as guided
By your own true affections; and that, your minds
Pre-occupied with what you rather must do
Than what you should, made you against the grain
To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us.
Bru. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures
How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continued: and what stock he springs of, The noble house o' the Marcians; from whence
That Ancus Marcius (Numa's daughter's son)
Be not as common fools: if you are not,
Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians,
If they be senators: and they are no less,
When, both your voices blended, the greatest taste
Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate!
And such a one as he who puts his "shall,"
His popular "shall," against a graver bench
Than ever frowned in Greece !-By Jove himself,
It makes the consuls base! and my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 't wixt the gap of both, and take
The one by the other.
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Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war,
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they shewed
Most valour, spoke not for them. The accusation
Which they have often made against the senate,
All cause unborn, could never be the native
Of our so frank donation.-Well, what then?
How shall this bosom multiplied digest
The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express
What's like to be their words: "We did request it:
We are the greater poll; and in true fear
They gave us our demands.”—Thus we debase
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble
Call our cares, fears: which will in time break ope
The locks o' the senate, and bring in the crows
To peck the eagles.
More than you doubt the change of 't; that prefer Speak, good Sicinius.
A noble life before a long; and wish
Sic.
To jump a body with a dangerous physic,
That's sure of death without it,—at once pluck out
The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick
The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour
Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state
Of that integrity which should become it:
Not having the power to do the good it would,
For the ill which doth control it.
Hear me, people :-Peace!
Cit. Let's hear our tribune.-Peace! Speak,
speak, speak!
Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties.
Marcius would have all from you: Marcius,
Whom late you have named for consul.
Men. Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
1st Sen. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat.
Sic. What is the city but the people?
Cit. True; the people are the city.
Bru. By the consent of all, we were established
The people's magistrates.
You so remain.
Men. And so are like to do.
Cor. That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation;
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.
Speak briefly, then;
For we are peremptory to despatch
This viperous traitor. To eject him hence
Were but one danger; and to keep him here
Our certain death: therefore it is decreed
He dies to-night.
Men. Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deservéd children is enrolled
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam,
Should now eat up her own!
Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away.
Men. O, he's a limb that has but a disease:
Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy.
What has he done to Rome that's worthy death?
Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost
(Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce) he dropped it for his country:
And what is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all that do 't and suffer it
A brand to the end o' the world.
Sic.
This is clean kam.
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