Corio. What makes this change? Menen. The matter? Com. Hath he not pass'd the Noble, and the Common? Brut. Cominius, no Corio. Haue I had Childrens Voyces? Senat. Tribunes giue way, he shall toth' Market place Brut. The People are incens'd against him Scicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle Corio. Are these your Heard? Must these haue Voyces, that can yeeld them now, And straight disclaim their toungs? what are your Offices? You being their Mouthes, why rule you not their Teeth? Haue you not set them on? Mene. Be calme, be calme Corio. It is a purpos'd thing, and growes by Plot, To curbe the will of the Nobilitie: Suffer't, and liue with such as cannot rule, Nor euer will be ruled Brut. Call't not a Plot: The People cry you mockt them: and of late, When Corne was giuen them gratis, you repin'd, Scandal'd the Suppliants: for the People, call'd them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to Noblenesse Corio. Why this was knowne before Brut. Not to them all Corio. Haue you inform'd them sithence? Brut. How? I informe them? Com. You are like to doe such businesse Brut. Not vnlike each way to better yours Corio. Why then should I be Consull? by yond Clouds Let me deserue so ill as you, and make me Your fellow Tribune Scicin. You shew too much of that, For which the People stirre: if you will passe To where you are bound, you must enquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, Or neuer be so Noble as a Consull, Nor yoake with him for Tribune Mene. Let's be calme Com. The People are abus'd: set on, this paltring Becomes not Rome: nor ha's Coriolanus Deseru'd this so dishonor'd Rub, layd falsely I'th' plaine Way of his Merit Corio. Tell me of Corne: this was my speech, And I will speak't againe Mene. Not now, not now Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now Corio. Now as I liue, I will. My Nobler friends, I craue their pardons: For the mutable ranke-sented Meynie, Let them regard me, as I doe not flatter, And therein behold themselues: I say againe, In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our Senate The Cockle of Rebellion, Insolence, Sedition, Which we our selues haue plowed for, sow'd, & scatter'd, By mingling them with vs, the honor'd Number, Who lack not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that Which they haue giuen to Beggers Mene. Well, no more Senat. No more words, we beseech you Corio. How? no more? As for my Country, I haue shed my blood, Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs Coine words till their decay, against those Meazels Which we disdaine should Tetter vs, yet sought The very way to catch them Bru. You speake a'th' people, as if you were a God, To punish; Not a man, of their Infirmity Sicin. 'Twere well we let the people know't Mene. What, what? His Choller? Cor. Choller? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Ioue, 'twould be my minde