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Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a bear.

Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You are two old men, tell me one thing that I shal!

ask you.

Both. Well, Sir ;

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all.
Sic. Efpecially, in pride.
Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

Men. This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censur'd here in the city, I mean of us o'th' right hand file? Do you ?

Bru. Why,-how are we censur'd ?

Men. Because you talk of pride now, will you not be angry?

Botb. Well, well, Sir, well.

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud.

Bru. We do it not alone, Sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone ; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single ; your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride-oh, that you could turn your eyes' towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good felves! Oh, that you could !

Bru. What then, Sir ?
Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of as

3 towards the napes of your in which he puts his neighbour's mecks,) With allusion to the fac faults, and another behind him, ble, which says, that every man in which he ftows his own. has a bag hanging before him,

un.

unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias, fools, as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous Patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint; hafty and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion; * one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter ; and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such weals-men as you are, I cannot call you Lycurguges, if the drink you give me touch my palate adversly, I make a crooked face at it. I can't say, your Worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your fyllables; and tho' Í must be content to bear with those, that say, you are reverend grave men; yet they lye deadly, that tell you, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcolin, follows it, that I am known well enough too? what harm can your s biffon Confpe tui ies glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, Sir, come, we know you well enough.

Min. You know neicher me, yourselves, nor any thing; you are ambitious for

poor legs : "you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a Cause between an orange-wife and a fosietfeller, and then adjourn a controverly of three-pence to a second day of audience.—When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the colick, you make faces like mummers,

knaves' caps

caps and

4 ore that convef's more, &c.] you wear out a good, &c.] Rather a late lier down than an It appears from this whole speech early riser.

that Shakespear mistook the of s bibens, blind, in the old fice of Prafetus ubis for the copies, is leefome, restored by Tribune's ofice. Mr. Tbeoball.

fet * bessom

Ed. 1632.

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set up the bloody fag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversie bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing. All the peace you make in their cause, is calling both the

parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter gyber of the Table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a Grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be intomb'd in an ass's pack-faddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good-e'en to your Worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the * herdsmen of beastly Plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of

you. [Brutus and Sicinius stand aside.

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As Menenius is going out, Enter Volumnia, Virgilia,

and Valeria. How now my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler) whither do you follow your eyes so fatt?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches. For the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

7 set up the bloody flag against recompense its grossness. all patience,] 1 hat is, declare * berdmen of Plebeians.] As war against patience. There is kings are called ingere; náwy. not wis enough in this fatire to

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius ; and with most prosperous approbation.

Men. 8 Take my Cap, Jupiter, and I thank theeHoo! Marcius coming home!

Boib. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look here's a letter from him, the State hath another ; his wife, another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.

Men. I will make niy very house reel to night. A letter for me! Vir. Yes, certain ; there's a letter for you; I saw't

. Men. A letter for me! it gives me an estate of feven years' health ; in which time I will make a lip at the physician; the most fovereign prescription in Golen is but Empiric, and to this preservative of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. Oh, no, no, no. Vol. Oh, he is wounded; I thank the Gods for't. Men. So dol too, if he be not too much. Brings a' victory in his pocket? The wounds become him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius. He comes the third ti:ne home with the oaken garland.

A.en. Hath he disciplind Aufidius foundly?

Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Aufidius got off

. Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him

* Take my CAP. Jupiter, and was the custom of that time. I bank sbé-) Tho Menenius There is a pleasantry, indeed, is made a prater and a boon-com- in his way of expressing it, very panion, yet it was not the de- agreeable to his convivial cbafign of the poet to have him pro- racer. But the editors, not phane, and bid Jupiter take bis knowing the use of this cup, alcap. Shakespear's thought is ve. ter'd it to cap. WARBURTON, sy different from what his edi- Shakespeare so often mentions tors dream d of. He wrote, throwing up caps in this play,

Take my cup, Jupiter. that Menenius may be well enouga i... I will go offer a Libation to supposed to throw up his cap ia thee, for this good news : which thanks to Jupiter,

thar.

that. If he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate opoffest of this ?

Vol. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war. He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.

Men. Wondrous ! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

Vir. The Gods grant them true !
Vol. True? pow, waw.

Men. True? I'll be sworn, they are true. Where is he wounded ? - God save your good Worships. [To the Tribunes.] Marcius is coming home. He has more cause to be proud.—Where is he wounded ?

Vol. I'th' shoulder, and i'th' left arm. There will be large cicatrices to shew the people, when he shall stand for his place. 'He receiv'd in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i'th' body.

Men. One i'ch' neck, and one too i' th' thigh ; there's nine, that I know.

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty five wounds upon

him. Men. Now 'tis twenty seven ; every gash was an enemy's Grave. Hark, the trumpets.

(A fout and flourish.

9 Poteft, in our authour's lan- stupid blunder; but wherever guage, is fully informed.

we can account by a probable "He receiv'd in the repulse of reason for the Cause of it, That Tarquin seven hurts i'rb' body. directs the emendation. Here it

Men. One iib' neck, and two was easy for a negligent tranitb'thigh : there's nine, that I scriber to omit the second one as know ] Seven,-one,—and two, a needless repetition of the firit, and there make but nine? Sure- and to make a numeral word of ly, we may safely affiit Menenius 100.

WAR BURTON. in his Arithmetick. This is a

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