Men. Though all at once, cannot See what I do deliuer out to each, Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that all From me do backe receiue the Flowre of all, And leaue me but the Bran. What say you too'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 Counsailes, and their Cares; disgest things rightly, Touching the Weale a'th Common, you shall finde No publique benefit which you receiue But it proceeds, or comes from them to you, And no way from your selues. What do you thinke? You, the great Toe of this Assembly? 2.Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe? Men. For that being one o'th lowest, basest, poorest Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest formost: Thou Rascall, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiffe bats and clubs, Rome, and her Rats, are at the point of battell, The one side must haue baile. Enter Caius Martius. Hayle, Noble Martius Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues That rubbing the poore Itch of your Opinion, Make your selues Scabs 2.Cit. We haue euer your good word Mar. He that will giue good words to thee, wil flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you haue, you Curres, That like nor Peace, nor Warre? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should finde you Lyons, findes you Hares: Where Foxes, Geese you are: No surer, no, Then is the coale of fire vpon the Ice, Or Hailstone in the Sun. Your Vertue is, To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that Iustice did it. Who deserues Greatnes, Deserues your Hate: and your Affections are A sickmans Appetite; who desires most that Which would encrease his euill. He that depends Vpon your fauours, swimmes with finnes of Leade, And hewes downe Oakes, with rushes. Hang ye: trust ye? With euery Minute you do change a Minde, And call him Noble, that was now your Hate: Him vilde, that was your Garland. What's the matter, That in these seuerall places of the Citie, You cry against the Noble Senate, who (Vnder the Gods) keepe you in awe, which else Would feede on one another? What's their seeking? Men. For Corne at their owne rates, wherof they say The Citie is well stor'd Mar. Hang 'em: They say? They'l sit by th' fire, and presume to know What's done i'th Capitoll: Who's like to rise, Who thriues, & who declines: Side factions, & giue out Coniecturall Marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobled Shooes. They say ther's grain enough? Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth, And let me vse my Sword, I'de make a Quarrie With thousands of these quarter'd slaues, as high As I could picke my Lance