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Even to the court, the heart; to th' seat o'th' braio ;
2 Cit. Ay, Sir, well, well.
Men. Though all at once cannot
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 counsels, and their cares ; digest 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 you, And no way from yourselves. What do you think? You, the great toe of this assembly!
z Cit. I the great toe! why, the great toe ?
Men. For that, being one o' th' lowest, baseft, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou goeft foremost : Thou rascal, that are worft in blood to run. Lead'st first, to win some vantage.-But make you
ftiff bats and clubs, Rome and her rats are at the point of battle: (3) The one fide muft have bale.
Enter (3) The one fide muf bave bail.] It must be the vanquilht fide, sure, that could want it; and who were likely to be their bail? but it is endless to question with negligence and fupidity. The poet, undoubte edly wrote,, as I have restor'd;
The one fida muft bave bale. i. e. Sorrow, misfortune, must have the worft of it, be discomfited. I have restor'd this word in some other passages of our author; and we meet with it in a play, attributed to him, callid Locrine :
---Yea, with these eyes thou haft seen her, and therefore pull them out, for they will work thy bale. Mr. Rowe, indeed, in his editions of our poet, has erroneously printed bail too in this passage; but in the old quarto which I have of Locrine,
Enter Caius Marcius, Hail, noble Marcius !
(rogues, Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves fcabs ?
2 Cit. We have ever your good word.
Mar. He, that will give good words to thee, will fiatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you
lions, finds you hares : Where foxes, geese : You are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire opon the ice, Or hailstone in the fun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice, did it. Who deserves greatness, Deserves your hate; and your affections are A fick man's appetite, who desires moft that Which would increase his evil. He, that depends Upon your favours, fwims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang yetrust ye ! With every minute you do change a mind, printed in 1595, we find the word spelt as it ought. And it was a ierm familiar both with authors prior in time, and contemporaries with Shakespeare.
and eke her fingirs long and fmale
Chaucer's Troil, and Creseide. Book IV. verse 738.
Spenfer’s Translation of Virgil's Gaat. Aad again,
Said he, what have I wretch defery'd, that thus
First Chorus of Hercules Oet aus from Seneca; printed in 1981.
Do interrupt my tale;
Men. What ,
And call him noble, that was now your hate;
Men. For corn at their own rates, whereof, they say, The city is well stor’d.
Mar. Hang 'em : they fay!
Me?. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded :
Mar. They are dissolv'd'; hang 'em, They said they were an hungry, figh'd forth proverbs That hunger broke stone walls--that dogs must eat,That meat was made for mouths that the gods fent not Corn for the rich men only--With these fhreds They vented their complainings: which being answer'd, And a petition granted them, a strange 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, Shouting their emulation. . is granted them?
Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know notes' th, The rabble should have firft unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me! it will in time
Men. This is strange.
Enter a Mesenger.
Mar. I'm glad on't, then we shall have means to vent
Titus Lartius, with other Senators. 1 Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us, The Volscians are in arms.
Mar. They have a leader,
Com. You have fought together?
I Sen. Then worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
Con. It is your former promise.
Mar. Sir, it is;
Tit. No Caius Marcius,
Men. O true bred !
I Sen. Your company to th' capitol; where, I know, Our greatest friends attend us.
Tit. Lead you on;
Com. Noble Lartius !.
[To the Citizens Mar. Nay, let them follow; The Volscians have much corn : take these rats thither, To
gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth; pray, follow.– [Exeunt,
[Citizens fleal away. Manent Sicinius and Brutas. Sic. Was ever man so proud, as is this Marcius? Bru. He has no equal. Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the people Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes? Sic Nay, but his taunts. Bru. Being movid, he will not spare to gird the gods Sic. Be-mock the modest moon,
Bru. (4) The present wars devour him; he is grown Too proud to be fo valiant.
Sic. Such a nature,
Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,
Too proud to be so valiant.] This is very obscurely express'd; but the poet's meaning must certainly be this. Marcius is so conscious of, and so elate upon, che notion of his own valour, that he is eaten up with pride; devour'd with the apprehensions of that glory which he promises himself from the ensuing war, A sentiment, like this, occurs again in Troilus and Crefida.
He, that is proud, eats up bimself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the dsed, devours the deed in the praise.