Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes: I could weepe, and I could laugh, I am light, and heauie; welcome: A Curse begin at very root on's heart, That is not glad to see thee. You are three, that Rome should dote on: Yet by the faith of men, we haue Some old Crab-trees here at home, That will not be grafted to your Rallish. Yet welcome Warriors: Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle; And the faults of fooles, but folly Com. Euer right Cor. Menenius, euer, euer Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on Cor. Your Hand, and yours? Ere in our owne house I doe shade my Head, The good Patricians must be visited, From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings, But with them, change of Honors Volum. I haue liued, To see inherited my very Wishes, And the Buildings of my Fancie: Onely there's one thing wanting, Which (I doubt not) but our Rome Will cast vpon thee Cor. Know, good Mother, I had rather be their seruant in my way, Then sway with them in theirs Com. On, to the Capitall. Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt. in State, as before. Enter Brutus and Scicinius Bru. All tongues speake of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling Nurse Into a rapture lets her Baby crie, While she chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes Her richest Lockram 'bout her reechie necke, Clambring the Walls to eye him: Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are smother'd vp, Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd With variable Complexions; all agreeing In earnestnesse to see him: seld-showne Flamins Doe presse among the popular Throngs, and puffe To winne a vulgar station: our veyl'd Dames Commit the Warre of White and Damaske In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton spoyle Of Phoebus burning Kisses: such a poother, As if that whatsoeuer God, who leades him, Were slyly crept into his humane powers, And gaue him gracefull posture Scicin. On the suddaine, I warrant him Consull Brutus. Then our Office may, during his power, goe sleepe Scicin. He cannot temp'rately transport his Honors, From where he should begin, and end, but will Lose those he hath wonne Brutus. In that there's comfort Scici. Doubt not, The Commoners, for whom we stand, but they Vpon their ancient mallice, will forget With the least cause, these his new Honors, Which that he will giue them, make I as little question, As he is prowd to doo't Brutus. I heard him sweare, Were he to stand for Consull, neuer would he Appeare i'th' Market place, nor on him put The Naples Vesture of Humilitie, Nor shewing (as the manner is) his Wounds Toth' People, begge their stinking Breaths Scicin. 'Tis right Brutus. It was his word: Oh he would misse it, rather then carry it, But by the suite of the Gentry to him, And the desire of the Nobles Scicin. I wish no better, then haue him hold that purpose, and to put it in execution Brutus. 'Tis most like he will Scicin. It shall be to him then, as our good wills; a sure destruction