Our fufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our Pikes, e'er we become Rakes: For the Gods know, I fpeak this in hunger for Bread, not in thirft for Revenge.

2 Cit. Would you proceed especially againft Caius Mar

tius?

All. Against him firft: He's a very Dog to the Com. monalty.

2 Cit. Confider you what Services he has done for his Country?

1 Cit. Very well: and could be content to give him good Report for t; but that he pays himself with being proud. All. Nay, but fpeak not maliciously.

1 Cit. I fay unto you, what he hath done famoufly, he did it to that end; though foft confcienc'd Men can be content to fay it was for his Country, he did it to please his Mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his Virtue.

2 Cit. What he cannot help in his Nature, you account a Vice in him: You muft in no way fay, he is Covetous.

I Cit. If I muft not, I need not be barren of Accufations; he hath Faults, with furplus, to tire in Repetition.

[Shouts within. What Shouts are those? The other fide o'th' City is rifen, why stay we prating here? To th'Capitol

All Come, come.

1 Cit. Softwho comes here?

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always lov'd the People.

1 Cit. He's one honeft enough, would all the reft were fo. Men. What work's, my Countrymen, in hand? Where go you with your Bats and Clubs? The MatterSpeak, I pray you.

2 Cit. Our Bufinefs is not unknown to the Senate, they have had inkling, this Fortnight, what we intended to do, which now we'll fhew 'em in Deeds: They fay, poor Suiters have ftrong Breaths, they fhall know we have ftrong

Arms too.

Men. Why Mafters, my good Friends, mine honest Neighbours, will you undo your felves?

2 Cit. We cannot, Sir, we are undone already.
Men. I tell you, Friends, moft charitable care
Have the Patricians of you: for your Wants,
Your fufferings in this Dearth, you may as well
Strike at the Heav'n with your Staves, as lift them
Against the Roman State; whofe course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand Curbs
Of more ftrong link'd asunder, than can ever
Appear in your Impediment. For the Dearth;
The Gods, not the Patricians, make it; and
Your Knees to them, not Arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by Calamity

Thither, where more attends you; and you flander
The Helms o'th' State, who care for you, like Fathers,
When you curfe them as Enemies.

2 Cit. Care for us !----True indeed, they ne'er car'd for us yet. Suffer us to famifh, and their Store-houfes cramm'd with Grain: Make Edicts for Ufury, to fupport Ufurers; repeal daily any wholsom A&t established against the Rich, and provide more piercing Statutes daily, to chain up and reftrain the Poor. If the Wars eat us not up, they will, and there's all the love they bear us.

Men. Either you must

Confefs

your felves wond'rous malicious,

Or be accus'd of Folly. I fhall tell you
A pretty Tale, it may be you have heard it,
But fince it ferves my purpofe, I will venture
To fcale't a little more.

2 Cit. Well,

I'll hear it, Sir

-yet you must not think

To fob off our Difgrace with a Tale:

But, and't please you, deliver.

Men. There was a time when all the Bodies Members

Rebell'd against the Belly; thus accus'd it—

That only like a Gulf it did remain

I'th' midt o'th' Body, idle and unactive,

Still cubbording the Viand, never bearing

Like labour with the reft: where th' other Inftruments
Did fee, and hear, devife, inftruct, walk, feel,
And mutually participate, did minifter

Unto the Appetite, and Affection common

Of the whole Body. The Belly anfwer'd

2 Cit. Well, Sir, what anfwer made the Belly?
Men. Sir, I fhall tell you with a kind of fmile,
Which ne'er came from the Lungs, but even thus
(For look you, I may make the Belly fmile
As well as fpeak) it tauntingly réply'd

To the discontented Members, the mutinous Parts
That envied his Receit; even fo most fitly,
As you malign our Senators, for that
They are not fuch as you

2 Cit. Your Belly's anfwer-What

The Kingly crown'd 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 Fabrick, if that they

Men. What then?-For me this Fellow fpeaks. What then? what then?

2 Cir. Should by the Cormorant Belly be reftrain'; Who is the fink o'th' Body

Men. Well,

what then?

2 Cit. The former Agents, if they did complain, What could the Belly answer?

Men. I will tell you,

If you'll beftow a small (of what you have little) Patience, a while; you'ft hear the Belly's answer. 2 Cit. Y'are long about it.

Men. Note me this, good Friend;

Your moft grave Belly was deliberate,
Not rash, like his Accufers, and thus anfwer'd;
True is it, my incorporate Friends, quoth he,
That I receive the general Food at firft
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the Store-houfe, and the Shop
Of the whole Body. But if you do remember,
I fend it through the Rivers of your Blood
Even to the Court, th'Heart, to th' feat o'th' Brain,
And through the Cranks and Offices of Man,
The ftrongeft Nerves, and fmall inferior Veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live. And though that all at once,

You

You, my good Friends, (this fays the Belly) mark me

2 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 Flow'r of all,
And leave me but the Bran. What fay you to't?
2 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 Counfels, and their Care; digeft things rightly,
Touching the Weal o'th'Common, you fhall find
No publick Benefit which you receive,

But it proceeds or comes from them to yo",
And no way from your felves. What do you think?
You, the great Toe of this Affembly?

2 Cit. the great Toe! Why the great Toe?
Men. For that being one o'th'loweft, baleft, pooreft
Of this most wife Rebellion, thou goeft formoft:
Thou Rafcal, that art worst in Blood to run,
Lead'ft firft to win fome vantage.

But make you ready your ftiff Bats and Clubs,
Rome and her Rats are at the point of Battel:
The one fide must have Bail.

Enter Caius Martius.

Hail, Noble Martius.

Mar. Thanks. What's the Matter, you diffentious Rogues? That rubbing the poor itch of your Opinion,

Make your felves Scabs.

2 Cit. We have ever your good Word.

Mar. He that will give good Words to thee, will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye Curs,
That like not Peace, nor War? The one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trufts to you,
Where he fhould find you Lions, finds you Hares;
Where Foxes, Geefe you are: No furer, no,
Than is the coal of Fire upon the Ice,

Or Hailftone in the Sun. Your Virtue is,
To make him worthy, whofe Offence fubdues him,
And curfe that Juftice, did it. Who deferves Greatnefs,
Deferves your Hate; and your Affections are

A fick Man's Appetite, who defires most that,"
Which would encrease his Evil. He that depends
Upon your Favours, swims with fins of Lead,

And hews down Oaks with Rufhes. Hang ye --- trust ye!
With every Minute you do change a Mind,

And call him Noble, that was now your Hate,

Him Vile, that was your Garland.

That in the several places of the City

What's the Matter,

You cry against the Noble Senate, who

(Under the Gods) keep you in awe, which elfe
Would feed on one another? What's their feeking?
Men. For Corn at their own Rates, whereof they fay,
The City is well ftor'd.

Mar. Hang 'em: They fay!

They'll fit by th' Fire, and prefume to know
What's done i'th' Capitol; who's like to rife,

Who thrives, and who declines: Side Factions, and give out
Conjectural Marriages; making Parties strong,
And feebling fuch as ftand not in their liking,
Below their cobled Shooes. They fay, there's Grain enough!
Would the Nobility lay afide their Ruth,

And let me ufe a Sword, I'd make a Quarry
With thousands of thefe quarter'd Slaves, as high
As I could pitch my Lance.

Men. Nay, thefe are almoft throughly perfuaded:
For though abundantly they lack Difcretion,

Yet are they paffing cowardly.

What fays the other Troop?

But, I beseech you,

Mar. They are diffolv'd; hang 'em,

They faid they were an hungry,

That Hunger broke Stone Walls

figh'd forth Proverbs;
that Dogs must eat,

That Meat was made for Mouths- that the Gods fent not

Corn for the Rich Men only-With these shreds

They vented their Complainings; which being anfwer'd, And a Petition granted them, a ftrange one,

To break the Heart of Generofity,

And make bold Power look pale; they threw their Caps
As they would hang them on the Horns o'th'Moon,
Shooting their Emulation.

Men. What is granted them?

Mar.